Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It happened during senior year, in the first term, sometime before the summer break, in June, about two to three months after the meteor incident.

All in all, Kusuo was without his psychic powers for about two weeks. If he thought hard enough about it, even during that time period, his powers always peeked at the edge, bursting at the seams. Those two weeks had proven educational for him. The benefits of those powers, primarily the ability to protect himself and his friends, outweigh whatever personal detriment he perceived.

Then the meteor incident happened. The urge to save the world again and to prevent his father from being used as a puppet in Kuusuke's schemes actually brought a return to his powers. So things returned to the way they were.

On that particular day in June, Kusuo woke up with a splitting headache. There was a ringing in his ears that would not stop. His precognition ability, which flared-up whenever he had a headache, appeared to have glitched out, showing him random scenes that made no sense. There was not an explosion. No car wreck. No fire. No terrorist attack. No staying up way too late that was bad for his health. Nothing. Just random images, mostly of broken furniture, bunsen burners, beakers, spreadsheet, and strangely rock paper and scissors matches. The images paraded themselves in front of him in a blinding swirl, overlying themselves on top of his regular vision. Added to all the sounds coming in from his telepathy, it was dizzying.

Were his third-generation limiters being faulty?

The first generation of limiters worked flawlessly for over seven years, except that it was easily removable, can be damaged, and the right one was part of a twisted game concocted by his evil older brother.

The second generation of limiters was supposed to erase his psychic ability and that actually worked, for a while. He did not like the design but kept it just in case he felt like experimenting.

The third generation of limiters was far smaller. They were the size of a large sewing pin, large enough to easily hold but small enough to hid perfectly in his hair. It solved the problem of people, namely Nendou and Teruhashi, removing his limiter by accident. Kuusuke also gave him boxes of these things like they were mass-produced candy, in case they broke again.

Since both pins worked as limiters now, instead of one being a dummy, Kusuo was able to change them out without the fear of breaking something while a limiter was out. And if both of them are in, he could get his petrification under control. One less worry to be concerned about in case his glasses slid off his face, spontaneously broke, or otherwise plucked by his errant friends.

So Kusuo changed them out.

No change in status. Headache and random images overlaying each other.

Was he sick?

He levitated in his room and activated his pyrokinesis to burn out whatever possible infection that could be making him ill.

Nope, the headache was still there. The ringing in his ear was just as awful. The random images were still filtering in.

Damn, another mystery he'll have to live and puzzle out for the day.

He went through his daily routine and got ready for school.

"Ku-chan, are you okay?" asked his mother at breakfast. She placed a small bowl of miso soup, a couple of pieces of toasts with jam, a small veggie dish, and of course, a cup of coffee. A somewhat traditional nutritious breakfast for her boy who liked the taste of the coffee. "You look pale."

-Meaning that I look white? Like a ghost?- he thought. He was pretty pale in the first place. But he waved away her concerns. "I'm fine, mom."

His mother, Kurumi, seem unconvinced.

"I just have a headache." He allowed a faint smile to touch his lips, trying to reassure her. "Usual ones."

"And is everything okay?" asked Kurumi. She knew, at least, that headaches were usually a side effect, or precursor, to precognitive visions to disaster. What type, she never knew. Her baby kept to himself and never liked to share more than necessary.

"It's no different than the volcano one from the end of first year," Kusuo sent to her. On a pain severity, that was true. The dream and headache that year were one of the worst. "And that was taken care of." -After a ridiculous number of tries...-

"If you say so," said Kurumi, still looking worried. She never liked how Kusuo's exterior expression had devolved from the occasional genuine smile as a small child to a default disappointed frown now.

At hearing her thoughts, Kusuo forced himself to smile a little wider, not wanting to worry his mother.

Kurumi seemed to detect this. So she occupied her mind on how happy she was to find that he had many friends at school and was a good neighborly young man to Yuuta, the five-year-old next door. He was becoming a fine young man and the simple fact thrilled her.

Kurumi's concerns were distracted by the arrival of her beloved husband, Kuniharu to the breakfast table. She went over to him immediately, greeting him with a smile, a hug, and a kiss on the cheeks. They professed their love to each other again, being sweet and lovey-dovey.

Kusuo turned his attention away from his parents immediately, focusing on eating breakfast, allowing his usual default blank look to return. When his parents doted on each other, their thoughts sometimes turned toward the intimate and no children wanted to listen to the exact process from which they were made.

Kusuo slipped out to school just in time before his father could beg him for a trip to work.

And into another headache of keeping his abilities a secret from most of PK Academy.

Chapter Text

School had a surprise for Kusuo. It was midterm exams.

Well, it was not so much a surprise in that Kusuo never felt the expected anxiety in academic testing. His usual reading topics exceeded high school level knowledge years ago so additional study efforts were not needed.

This day was surprising because he never had to take a test under these conditions.

The headache from the morning had worsened. He felt like his brain was being slowly roasted inside his skull, gray matter itching to dribble out his ears. Mixed in with all the random nonsensical images that were still passing in front of his eyes, he could not focus on making coherent sense of the thoughts of his classmates with telepathy to proceed with his usual cheating and achieve a middling score. He kept on wanting to keep his head down, trying to prevent his breakfast from coming back up. He had such a hard time focusing that he accidentally broke his pen with his psychokinesis.

So he went for the most expedient method to get out of this situation while not making too many problems for himself. For the first time in his high school career, he took his exams without cheating.

He answered all questions as quickly as possible, no stopping to mull over which answer to make incorrect. He wrote just fast enough not to cause a friction fire. He turned the exam in, then asked to be dismissed from the classroom, which was granted.

Afterward, he went and sat hunched over on the schoolyard bench, away from his exam-stressed classmates.

He rubbed his temples, trying to keep the grey matter in his head. In the back of his mind, he hoped that he did not stand out too much from what he just did. He was the first person in school to finish every exam subject. The next person took about twice the time. Almost everyone needed the entirety of exam time.

Getting out of the exam early did provide the benefit of being able to successfully sneak away from people during lunchtime. He took his boxed lunch and hid in a bathroom stall in an unused wing of the school. His head still throbbed. The random precognitive images came in a swirl of formulas now. Greek letters, mathematical proofs, physics formulas, interspaced with random anatomical models of the brain and eyes. The combination made him nauseous enough that he ate three bites of rice in his packed lunch and gave up on the rest.

He did spend the rest of his lunch hour checking in on his friends and family, trying to distract himself. Maybe something was going to happen to them and he was getting warnings about it? His precognitive abilities flared up when there was a physical danger to his person so he knew better than to ignore it. Maybe it had grown to include the people he cared about? It seemed to have worked around Kaido and Nendo at one point.

Crossing his eyes, he activated his clairvoyance.

Dad got to work on time miraculously and had to lick one less shoe. So that was okay.

Mom was in a neighborhood association meeting, chatting up with her mom friends, and exchanging recipes. Surprisingly, the mom friends also included Kuboyasu's mother.

His school mates were moaning in defeat, sighing in indifference, or crowing in triumph over the midterm.

The people in the triumph crowd were the usual students like Hairo, Teruhashi, Kaido, Akechi, and Nendo. For the first four, Hairo, Teruhashi, Kaido, and Akechi, Kusuo completely understood why they did well. They all worked hard to maintain their grades, except for Akechi, probably. Akechi was naturally gifted academically so no surprises there. Nendo was in the triumph group because he was such an idiot that he was happy as long as he was not in last place.

There was the indifferent crowd, namely Saiko Metori, Satou Hiroshi, and Suzumiya Hii who likely got average grades no matter how hard they tried. Saiko did normal because his education was supplemented heavily in running a business empire. It was actually surprising that he even came to school. Satou was the world's most average young man and by the sheer luck of sitting next to Suzumiya, he got her luck to increase to the point of average.

The ones who were in defeat were the regular crowd of Kuboyasu, Toritsuka, Aiura, Mera, and Yumehara. Kuboyasu likely did just about average on midterms and was being hard on himself. Toritsuka and Aiura, his fellow Psychickers had severe personal issues that likely detracted them from studying in the first place. They were also unlikely to depend on their school grades for the next step in life anyways so poor school grades were not exactly a problem for them. Mera's time was preoccupied with her dozens upon dozens of low paying part-time jobs so she did not study, but she likely had tested in the third quartile. Yumehara was somewhat scattered brained and tested average like Kuboyasu, but she schemed how she could get Kaido's attention from this fiasco, if she could get him to tutor her.

Next, he checked in with his grandparents.

Uh oh. Problem. Grandfather just grabbed his chest, doubling over. His grandmother was in the room when it happened.

Good thing that when his older brother's lived with their grandparents that the emergency response system was improved to deal with an event such as this. Well, it was originally for creating an old people zombie robot army, or whatever silly grandiose plans the mad genius had come up with. No matter, the infrastructure worked.

Kusuo kept watching until the ambulance arrived, only a minute later. He might've done something to help the ambulance along. He looked away once he saw that grandpa was attended to. There were only two minutes passed between the onset of the stroke and being attended to. So nothing permanent should occur. Kusuo would have to check back periodically.

Kusuo rubbed his eyes. Crossing his eyes for so long had strained the eye muscles.

For a moment there, Kusuo noticed that his head had stopped hurting so much. Did he fix the issue that causing his precognitive flare-up? Was his head hurting because his family was in danger? And since he saw that the ambulance got there swiftly, that the problem went away? Right?

Kusuo gasped suddenly when the headache came back with a vengeance only moments later, in the form of a pulsating migraine right behind his eyes. The images morphed now, showing him images of kid's things, specifically a rattle, a fidget toy, a baby blanket, a green tricycle, a hockey mask, a snack pack, stacking playing cards, and his green glasses.

Kusuo sighed and pressed his palms to his temples and applied pressure. That relieved the pain somewhat but intensified the nonsensical images. His stomach heaved a bit, but he kept it down. He felt his pulse quicken and a shiver go down his spine. A sense of dread was creeping on the edge of his awareness.

Something was wrong and he could not figure it out.

---

The afternoon had one more set of exams, ones that Kusuo finished in record time. The teacher looked surprised that he turned in his paper so early but made no comment and dismissed him.

This time, instead of sitting on the bench, he laid down. He looked at the clouds, trying to distract himself from the parade of some esoteric text floating in his mind's eyes. Being horizontal felt far better than being vertical. If he had to sit up for one more minute taking that exam, he might spew stomach acid on his test papers.

Exam days were good though, since it meant no physical education period. Currently, he doubted that he could withstand the fine motor control he needed to do the activities without catching people's attention. It did mean a mandatory self-study period that Kusuo had to be in the classroom to demonstrate attendance. Kusuo tried to run away once the teacher marked him as present after roll call. He needed to be on the school roof, another bathroom stall, the janitor's closet even, to get some time to sort himself out. But, as expected, his friends caught him before he could slip away.

"Hey. Aibou!" called Nendo. "How did you do on the test?"

"Yeah, Saiki. How'd you do on the midterm exams?" asked Kaido.

Hairo was stretching and doing situps, to the steady cheer of his admirers. Hairo was very much well-liked and for good reasons. Hairo was a model citizen who went out of his way to help people. Plus, he was athletic, enthusiastic, ruggedly handsome and friendly, all traits that made him the perfect class representative and should be part of the upper eschelon of the school. Though, Hairo seemed to have a special fondness for school misfit of Kuboyasu, Kaidou, Nendou and Saiki and went out of his way to spend time with them.

Sometimes, Kusuo thought psychic powers should have been bestowed on Hairo. At least Hairo would do something responsible with it.

"Yeah, Saiki-kun," joined Hairo. "How did you finish so fast? Did you even answer all the questions?"

"You okay, Saiki?" asked Kuboyasu, echoing the same words as Kusuo's mother from earlier. Kuboyasu was used to reading the intricate body language due to his many years as a punk and all the fighting he did. "You are looking a little pale there. And where did you go during lunch, man?"

-Really, you just noticed?- thought Kusuo, still rubbing his temples, trying to think of something else other than the pulsating pain behind his eyes and his general malaise. Maybe he could prevail upon Toritsuka, Aiura or Akechi to find some hammers and start beating his head with them. On a second thought, maybe only Akechi. He did not trust the other two to aim well enough to miss his limiters.

"Yeah, Saiki-kun. You don't look so hot," mentioned Yumehara, pipping in. "Are you ill?"

-Geez. What gave it away? The wincing? The laying down on the bench? It's not like I haven't been doing this all day,- Kusuo thought to himself.

"They're right Kusuo-kun," now it was Akechi. Of the group, he was the one of few people who freely used his given name due to their association during elementary school. "You were holding your head all morning. You rubbed your temples at least two times a minute, with at least one swirl, one on each side. I observed that you did the same thing during the afternoon exam. Do you have a brain disease? Maybe you got brain cancer? I don' think so because you're Kusuo-kun. I think you've aced the mid-terms, but I'm not sure because I think you didn't answer some of the questions. By the way, you seemed even green at some point. Did you get food poisoning? What did you have this morning? I'm guessing something with coffee in it?"

"Akechi!" yelled Kaido, bewildered by the staccato delivery. "You've got to stop talking."

"I'm alright," said Kusuo, cutting through the cacophony of his friend's concerns. Like the interaciton with his mother earlier in the morning, he gave an encouraging faint smile to his friends, despite the continuous pulsating pain behind his eyes that was making his eye twitch involuntarily. That seemed to do the trick since everyone's thought immediately turned to the next thing.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to go get some ramen to celebrate the end of midterms!" said Nendo.

"Yeah. A bowl of tasty, hot, salty ramen would definitely help you out, Saiki," suggested Kuboyasu to the pink-haired young man.

"That's right, Saiki," said Kaido. "You'll feel better with some food in your stomach."

Before Kusuo could politely reject, Nendo already responded for him. "Of course Aibu is coming. You're coming too, Kaido?"

Kaido nodded. "Of course. I'm coming."

"That sounds like a great idea," Yumehara interjected. Since Kaido was going, she was going to go too. She turned and called to the group boys that had congregated around the school beauty. An tidal wave of 'offu' coming off of them. "Kokomi-chan! Wanna come get ramen with us?"

Teruhashi smiled prettily as her name was called, a trail of imaginary flowers, and the sweet scent of roses seemed to encircle her. "Of course. Chiyo-chan! Ramen sounds great." She turned to her crowd of suitors. "What does everyone say?"

"Hey, I'll come too!" said Hairo, overhearing the conversation. "Who else is coming?"

-The whole damn school, who else?- Kusuo thought.

Sure enough, almost everyone in class responded to Hairo's invitation. Saiko declared that it was Free Ramen Day and generously offered to buy everyone's ramen. Their already unmanageable group of ten-ish close friends ballooned to twenty-five, and maybe to a hundred due to Teruhashi's most public endorsement of ramen. The rumor spread that ramen was the ambrosia of the gods and that every student should have a mandatory serving to keep up. That was about a fifth of PK Academy's student population.

If Kusuo's head wasn't hurting so much, he would've said, "Good grief."

No time for that now. He was swept into the crowd of exam-exhausted students who all now have a brand new purpose of searching for overly salty and savory noodles. The army of students marched out of PK Academy, and innocent bystanders like Kusuo had to come along in order not to stand out.

The situation actually worked in Kusuo's favor. They were seniors and some of the students took leading, or soaking up the admiration of, the underclassman seriously, which meant that they ended up forgetting that he was even there. His classmates led the charge to a ramen shop large enough to take the rush of 100 or so students.

In the crowd, Kusuo slowed his steps, falling further and further behind. After a couple of blocks he was able to slither his way from the middle of the crowd, to the edge, and eventually ducked away.

Chapter Text

The walk home from school was one of the longest he could remember.

Every single step seemed interminably long. The damn migraine was still there and the images kept on coming. This time, the images were banal, like fishing and festival games, mixed in with green and grey yukatas. Were these clues?

Home was only a half-hour walk away, but he felt like he had been walking for days. He thought this would be a repeat of any other day in the process of going through his normal life, since he managed okay in the all day midterm exams and was able to successfully escape the ramen crowd. Maybe he should call his parents, to come and get him?

If he wanted to wait a few hours, maybe. Mom drove sparingly and Kusuo never wanted to make her do anything that made her uncomfortable. Dad kept odd hours and was known to be undependable. Kusuo did not want to wait.

He stopped walking for a brief moment to steady himself. He swore that he could hear sizzling sounds of his brain being fried and the cracking of his skull from the pressure. The nonsensical images came in waves, back to a series of formulas that he could barely pick out. Though the nausea had stopped, he felt dizzy and his balance was off.

He tried to recall when was the last time he felt like this. It had to be the year in the fifth grade, prior to the installation of his first-generation limiters.

His psychic abilities were far more powerful at the time. His telepathic range was too wide and he could barely hear himself in midst of the voices. Every day felt like walking through a damp fog. Normal activities like, eating, walking, breathing, turning his head, and even moving his fingers were burdensome due to the amount of control he had to exert in order to appear normal. He had a school sports festival that day that he somehow managed to participate in the activities without attracting too much attention. He made it home and passed out on the living room floor from exhaustion.

He recalled that his parents freaked out when they found him. Mom cried because she thought he was going to die. Dad pretended to be strong, but he had come to the same conclusion. They were afraid to touch him. He was so drained and dazed that his pyrokinesis and cryokinesis were out of wack, which caused burns or frost bites if touched. He remembered the painful brush of his parent's thoughts, their fathomless despair and anguish when they thought their baby boy was beyond saving.

On that same day, he got his limiters, along with Kuusuke's annoying challenge. And all was well again.

Kusuo was so absorbed by his recollection of that year and distracted by his stupid migraine that he did not even notice that someone bumped into him.

Since when was the last time he actually bumped into someone by accident? He really was losing it.

"Saiki-kun!" came the familiar angelic voice.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Of course. It could only be Teruhashi.

She seemed surprised that she bumped into him. "I thought you came with us to get ramen." Her inner voice confirmed her outer voice. I didn't see Saiki-kun with the crowd at the ramen shop so I lost interest and left. Oh no. He doesn't look great. I don't think I've ever seen him so pale. He is as white as a sheet. In fact, he looked like this all day. "Are you okay, Saiki-kun?"

Now Kusuo was getting slightly annoyed. Will people stop asking me that? But what came out in his message to Teruhashi was appropriately polite. "I am fine. Thank you for asking."

"You're leaning against a wall," pointed out Teruhashi.

She was right. He was leaning against the wall for support. When did that happen? Hopefully he was careful enough not to accidentally break the wall.

Minor cracks only. That was a relief.

"I've noticed that you've been grimacing throughout the day," continued Teruhashi. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I feel just fine, " Kusuo insisted. How many times do I have to repeat myself?

Teruhashi closed in the distance between them and held a hand to his forehead.

The action was so sudden and surprising, without the accompaniment of Teruhashi's usual inner commentary about how she was going to get that elusive "offu" out of him that Kusuo only stood in place. And since she was touching his skin, briefly activating psychometry, her inner voice was incredibly clear through the swirling of precognitive images.

"Well, you do seem slightly hot," observed Teruhashi verbally. Her inner thoughts were lengthy. He didn't...take the mid-terms like this, right? Oh no! Is that why he turned in his test papers so early? He didn't even bother answering any of the questions? Because he was sick? Which meant he probably failed the mid-terms and he won't be able to recover grade wise. How are we going to get into the same colleges if he doesn't pick up the slack? His grades are awfully average as it is. Do I need to convince his mother to send him to cram school so he can pull up his grades? And how am I going to become his wife if he doesn't make it into college, and get a job with a steady income of at least 4 million yen?!

Well, that was an unexpected mix of concern for and obsession with him. And since when did she dropped her expectation of marrying an incredibly rich, handsome guy and live in the lap of luxury for the sole purpose of showing off her perfection to the world? Her original income minimum for the guy was at least 40 million yen a year. When did it drop to a tenth to the poor, pay check-to-pay-check living of 4 million yen a year?

Teruhashi had changed in the year, or five years if counting the time loops, that Kusuo had known her. He came to the conclusion that she had, over time, lost her mind.

What girl would be so obsessed over a guy who clearly did everything he could to make her dislike him and leave him alone? He outwardly gave her the things she hated. He made her play games she disliked and thoroughly beaten her in those games. Got her to eat food she did not like. He steadfast refusal to give her the 'offu' she so desperately craved except for that one time and it was probably a hallucination anyway.

She had so many suitors, some of them were powerful politicians, even princes of kingdoms. She could have anyone she wanted. Saiko Metori, probably the wealthiest young man in the country, had openly asked her to become his. Saiko was not bad looking either. To reject Saiko simply because her name would sound weird when spoken was completely nonsensical. And for what? A magenta pink-haired young man with absolutely mediocre academics and athletics who came from a working family?

"I got some ibuprofen in my bag," said Teruhashi, completely unaware of Kusuo's silent assessment of her sanity. She rummaged around her standard issued blue school bag for the small bottle and produced it proudly. I always carry it just in case it's that time of the month. I can't have people see me all bloated and achy. The perfect pretty girl doesn't get bloated and achy, especially in front of Saiki-kun! "It'll help with the fever and headache. Do you want some?"

Kusuo stared at the bottle. As a rule, he did not take any mind-altering foods and drugs. His psychic powers were closely entwined with his mental state so he kept to nonaddictive stimulants like coffee and tea that increased his alertness, or the ones that helped control the pollen allergy. He hate to consider the consequences if he did become dependent on medication.

But his migraine was distracting enough that he was not confident of being able to walk home without mishap. He did not want to teleport since he was having a hard time telling if people are nearby, judging by the fact that he actually bumped into Teruhashi by accident. He would definitely stand out if Teruhashi had to call someone to come get him because then, he would end up owing an actual major favor to Teruhashi, for which he would rather die first.

Worse, he needed to avoid a meeting between his mother and Teruhashi right now. He did not want to hear his mother squeal about how adorable and pretty Teruhashi was again. He was not going to allow Teruhashi to talk to his mother about cram school. That conversation would raise too many questions. He needed to have that clear head.

"Yes. " Kusuo held out a hand, admitting defeat. "Please."

Teruhashi opened the bottle and took out two gel caps.

"Do you need water?" asked Teruhashi as she rummaged through her bag again. I swear I have a small water bottle in here...

Kusuo shook his head. He quickly popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed. By modulating his psychokinesis, he willed the pill to dissolve almost immediately.

Well now, that was surprisingly helpful. The ice picks at the back of his eyes have been reduced to toothpicks. The whirlwind of precognitive images still abound, but manageable. He still felt a little woozy but his balance was mostly back. Maybe he really was sick?

That sense of dread though, still lingered at the edge of his awareness. He had got to get home and puzzle it out.

Kusuo bowed to Teruhashi lightly in thanks and began walking again toward the direction of his house.

"Wait. At least let me walk you home," said Teruhashi, chasing after him. I care about you, Kusuo-kun. I want to make sure you get home alright.

Kusuo immediately stopped, not sure how to react to Teruhashi's genuine inner voice of concern that was not laced with ulterior motives. For god's sake, she even called him by his given name, something she had never done for any other male classmate.

" Fine," Kusuo conceded.

Kyaa!!! Yes! We're finally walking home together! Alone! Teruhashi was so elated, so pleased with the rare occasion that the pink-haired young man actually bowed to her unspoken will that she unconsciously took hold of Kusuo's hand, squeezed and began dragging him along.

Kusuo allowed her to do so since he was not certain that he could control his strength with that migraine still crunching away at his brain cells and stabbing the back of his eyes. Despite this, he heard her internal exuberance loud and clear.

Thank you God! My prayers are answered! I don't even care that I'm walking him home instead of the other way around! Once we get to his house, I'll get his mother to send him to cram school. Then his grades will pick up, so he can get into college, then we'll date for a few years. Then we'll graduate. He'll get a job and propose to me. Then I'll become Saiki Kokomi and we'll get a big house. He'll go to work while I stay home and make foods that he likes. Then we'll have four babies together. No. Six babies!! No. Twelve babies!!! They'll have my hair, my looks, and his beautiful magenta eyes. And....

For the next twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, Kusuo was presented with all variation of their future children's names, what they would look like, and what their personalities are going to be. Whether she would allow her brother, Makoto near them. How their parents were going to dote on these precious grandchildren. How she was going to be still so gorgeous after having twelve babies and getting the daily 'offu' from her smitten husband.

Who would've thought that Teruhashi, a girl who always ranked in the top 20 academically in their grade, competitive in sports, had such conventional, domestic aspirations for the future ?

Yes. Teruhashi had most certainly lost her mind.

----------------------

Kusuo was able to bid Teruhashi goodbye just before he reached the house. That avoided two simultaneous high pitched babble that just might really make his head pop at this point.

Kurumi, ever so perfect of a mother and a wife, she had already prepared a nutritiously delicious dinner for him and dad. It was breaded pork chops, a couple of colorful vegetable dishes, a bowl of rice and of course, miso soup.

"Ku-chan, dinner is ready, come eat" his mother sang when he walked through the door. "Papa said he's going to be late tonight. So don't wait up."

Per habit, Kusuo dropped his school bag at the base of the stairs. He then walked over to the dinner table and quietly sat down. His mother joined him, fully intended to have the meal ritual with him.

The food smelled absolutely delicious after only having three bites of rice and two gel capsuls of pain medication since breakfast. He picked up his chopstick, said the usual meal benediction in his head, was ready to dig in when an ultra-sharp pain stabbed him in the back of the head.

"Ku-chan?" his mother, Kurumi, looked up from her own rice bowl. "You dropped your chopsticks." Like a good old mom, she got up and went over to the dropped eating utensil to pick it up. She walked close to her younger son.

Kusuo shut both of his eyes tightly. This was new. The pain had always been at the temples or the back of his eyes. Now it's hurting the back of his head. It must had bothered him so much that he lost fine motor control.

"Ku-chan," his mother looked at him worriedly. "Did your headache get worse?"

He did not respond. His mind was distracted by the precognitive images that were filtering in again at a pace much faster than before. He held his head and took a few deep breaths. The one-time stabbing left very much memorable throbbing ache but it seemed to be over. The pain level was back to manageable levels.

Kurumi rubbed the base of her son's neck, disquieted by the look on her son's face. Kusuo had never been sick. He had never broken a bone, never needed stitches. Heck, he never saw a medical doctor outside the first three days that he was born. Sure, he had moments of discomfort due to his psychic abilities, but those resolved itself soon enough. Even if there was a reason to seek medical help, she was convinced by her eldest son to never take Kusuo to a medical doctor since an examination might lead to uncomfortable questions about psychic powers. As time progressed, she discovered that Kusuo would never need to see a regular family doctor since there was already someone better.

"Ku-chan, whatever this is, you've had it all day. You should get it checked out. Maybe I should call-" Kurumi's words were cut off by a ringing landfill phone. She went to the landline phone and picked up. Her expression immediately morphed into one of horror as she chatted with her mother.

Meanwhile, Kusuo recovered from whatever that bout was. He was now able to catch bits and pieces of Kurumi's conversation on the phone. It was exactly what he had expected.

"Oh no! Grandpa had a stroke! and is in the hospital!" Kurumi cried. She immediately looked to Kusuo, her thoughts to her baby boy's psychic abilities. "Ku-chan, is grandpa okay?"

"Yes," Kusuo managed to send between the nonsensical precognitive images bouncing back and forth in his mind. "He'll be fine. I've already checked on him. He'll make a full recovery."

His mother heard the reassuring words, but she was still drastically worried. It was her father, after all. A man who had a gruff exterior and would never ask for help when he needed it. This was the precisely the moment that any concern, no matter how small, but be attended to. Her mother was old and might not be as mentally quick to the treatment methods of modern medicine. Kurumi felt that she should be there and advocate for her father. So often are old people's complaints of pain dismissed by the hospital staff.

"Oh, Ku-chan. I hate to ask you this, but can you take me to the hospital?" asked Kurumi. "I've got to go see him."

Kusuo took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. Despite his current condition, he felt compelled to satisfy her request. "Of course I'll take you." You are my mother. You know you don't have to ask...

Kurumi quickly grabbed her purse, packed some of her own dinner in a bento box in case grandpa didn't like hospital food. "Please let Papa know when he gets back. He'll likely want to visit grandpa too. So you bring him okay?"

Thus, the time after school became a time of shuttling his parents back between the hospital and the house, visiting grandpa, getting whatever comfort material from the grandparent's house, and trying to keep his sanity intact.

Chapter Text

Hospitals were miserable places for Kusuo mainly due to his telepathy. The thoughts that flittered through a hospital were often intense, and extreme, undignified and loud.

 
First, there was the hospital staff. Rural hospitals were often understaffed, underpaid, and underequipped compared to city hospitals. That led to grumbling, discontent, stress, apathy, and sometimes, outright mistreatment of patients. 

The patient and family lie so often to themselves, to the doctors, all for the sake of appearing far nobler than they were. They never say exactly what they did to get themselves in their current predicament, and lied about their medication. Then the family told the doctors that they want absolutely the best treatment, to keep someone alive, when they secretly just want their lingering relative who had been a lump on a bed for the last six months to just die already. 

Then there were those patients with insanity, dementia, or Alzheimer's. It was like listening to a broken record of emotional gibberish, without warning of violence or laughter. The people around them were just a fickle in their thoughts and often frightened. In this case, they were even less than ghosts in flesh. 

The worst were the ones who experience genuine heartbreak and agony. No, Kusuo did not enjoy hearing the thoughts and wails of a wretched mother who just lost her baby boy due to an accident. Or the thoughts of those who knew they were about to die.

But, Kusuo was still here, in a hospital. Combine the variety of thoughts at a hospital with a day-long headache and indecipherable images, Kusuo felt a heated, hazy fog in his head, like his brain had turned into jelly. That irritating high pitched noise was back. The precognitive images seemed foggy too, like seeing through gossamer silk where everything had a white film. He could make out something round, something squarish, but no idea what they were.

And that creeping anxiety was still there, seemingly taunting him to solve the mystery of the problem that he woke up with.

"You okay, Kusuo?" asked his dad, Kuniharu, looking concerned. "You look...green." 

The father and son pair were confined to the lobby visitor waiting area due to visitor limits in the intensive care unit. Mom and grandma were in grandpa's hospital room, making sure that everything was taken care of. The father and son did not have to be there since it was obvious that mom and grandma were the unquestioned decision-makers in grandpa's health. Still, both felt obligated to be present, to sit around and be bored since this was a close family member. Moral support was important.

Great. I'll aim for blue next time, thought Kusuo of his father's remark. What's with people comment on his color? They were in a hospital and everyone was on edge. So, for far too many times that day, Kusuo repeated, "I'm fine." He looked at his father speculatively. "You're nervous."

Kuniharu expected his son to observe this. "My father died in a rural hospital like this," said Kuniharu. "The doctors told us that he's going to be fine to then he died after we all went home. I know that Kumagoro is going to be just fine. The doctor said it. Your mom believes it. You've said it so it must be true. But I cannot help but be nervous."

The explanation oddly surprised Kusuo. As a psychic, there was almost nothing about his parents that he did not know. His parents were elemental people, though, focused on living the day-to-day, being happily married to each other, raising their boy together. His parents relived their happy times together, the meeting, the dates, but rarely anything before that. It was almost if there was a gaping hole for the time before their life together and no thoughts as to the future.

Come to think of it, Kusuo also never met his paternal grandparents. All he knew was that dad, like mom, was an only child and that paternal grandma was still alive. No, in all the time they had visited family, it was with the maternal grandparents. Dad rarely thought about his family. This seemed strange in a patrilineal society like theirs.

"How come we never visited grandmother and grandfather?" asked Kusuo of the obvious question at hand. 

Kuniharu shrugged. "My dad, your paternal grandfather, died before I got college and I'm estranged from them because I married your mother and at a relatively young age," said Kuniharu. "Your grandmother, Risa, didn't approve."

That reasoning seemed strange. Kurumi was a cheerful, devoted mother and wife, involved member of the neighborhood association, and highly respected by other moms. She was the primary reason that her sons were generally good, a feat in itself. 

Hearing Kuniharu's other internal thoughts, Kusuo realized that his father was not lying. His father's memory of Risa was rift with images hellfire and ice hail. She must had been a scary woman or bipolar. Could this perception be due to his father's usual gutless nature? Grandpa Kumagoro inspired similar imagery in Kuniharu. But to Kusuo, Kumagoro had always been a softie who loved his daughter and grandsons. Kumagoro disliked Kuniharu, mainly because Kumagoro considered Kuniharu as the man who stole away his precious daughter. 

"You want to see a picture of them?" asked Kuniharu, his thoughts still on the woman named Risa.

Kusuo nodded ever so faintly, actually curious now. His telepathy let him know details thought words, not so much the detailed thought images.

Kuniharu fished out his smartphone from a pant pocket. He scrolled through several work-related manga work before pausing at the personal photos. "I recently visited your grandmother. She lives in the city near the office and I thought to take some pictures of old photos, just in case she disowns me again. Here is their wedding photo." Kuniharu handed over the phone.  

It was an old photo, the one where the colors saturation seemed off. But it was a formal photo of a couple in their traditional Shinto wedding costumes along with members of their extended family. 

The couple seemed normal enough. They were of average lanky built, with brown-black hair. They looked like the type of people that most people would look at and not give a second thought. Since it was a wedding, the groom wore the traditional male costume of a black jacket and muted blue hakama. The bride was in a traditional white wedding kimono, with a decorated bridal hat. They seemed happy and somber at the same time.

Most of the wedding party looked their part, with the women wearing tasteful kimonos and the men electing for a more western look to accentuate and celebrate the happy new couple. There were more than what Kusuo expected, probably two dozen or so people in the wedding party. In the faces and people's images, Kusuo saw the remnants of his own facial features and body build and that reassured him. 

Ever since he was born, Kusuo had this unspoken question of whether he was Kurumi and Kuniharu's child, or anyone's really. Kusuo knew that his eyes and hair were drastically different from his parents and sibling, even if his bone set were similar to them. If Kuusuke was not related, that was fine; no need to be related to that jerk. That question was eventually pushed to the back of his mind. His telepathy told him that everyone, his parents, his maternal grandparents, even his evil older brother, recognized him as their kin. But, as Kusuo learned early on, people can lie to themselves just as easily. Since Kusuo's telepathy picked up on surface thoughts, he had no way of knowing if there was a deeper reason why people came to their current beliefs. He could be the unwanted son of another family adopted by Kurumi and Kuniharu. Seeing the photo helped pushed that question even further away. 

Kusuo kept on studying the photo on the small smartphone screen, looking away every once in a while so he did not end up looking at the phone circuitry. In his study, someone caught his eye. There was this particular little child, probably between five and seven-years-old, standing to the far side of the bride with a number of women relatives. The girl wore a pale green child's kimono with a thick red obi belt. Her tiny hands clutched at the tall woman beside her, seemingly trying to hide in between the colorful kimono fabrics. Despite the faded quality of the picture of a photograph taken at least fifty years ago, there was no mistaking the color of that hair. 

Magenta pink. There was someone in his extended family, with that same ugly, unusual, overly loud, eye-catching, impossible, magenta pink hair.

Kusuo felt his world view change fundamentally. How come he just learned of this now? 

Then, doubts entered Kusuo's mind. What if it was hair dye? A trick of the picture's color saturation? His eyes playing tricks on him because of his headache. Or what if it's another convoluted parallel universe, time travel thing where it was himself in the picture? 
God, if he did exist, hated him. The universe disappointed him so often that he approached anything that went swimmingly his way with suspicion.

"Who is this?" Kusuo enlarged the area of the photo and showed the image to dad. Due to the original picture size and the small features, the girl's face was blurry. 

"I don't remember her name," said Kuniharu. "I was told that she was the youngest sister of your grandmother. So that would make her your grand aunt."

Seriously? Do I have to spell out the question for you? thought Kusuo. Were his parents really that blase about how different their son looked from everyone else? And they never mentioned this person in the family that would've assured him? "Her hair. Is it natural?"

"Oh. That! Yes. yes. Of course! You know people don't allow hair dying of a child so young. Yes, in my family, children of your coloring pop up every once in a while. So we didn't find you all that odd when you came out looking like you did. More than anything, we thought you were adorable...well, not as adorable as mama, but adorable nonetheless."

The explanation made Kusuo felt a tiny bit glad. He always had a problem in trying to feel that he belonged. His parents were so unlike him, mentally and physically. He could barely relate to people and their emotional experiences. As a child, he was desperate enough to use mind control on the world, to change people's genetic makeup on a fundamental level, just to change the hair color so he could even slightly feel that he belonged, that he did not stand out. 

But right now, in one of the places he hated being in, he received unexpected hard evidence that he belonged to the Saikis, that his place in the family was unquestioned; that he was truly of their flesh and blood. That lingering doubt was completely banished. 

Kusuo felt an unexpected tug at the corner of his lips, one that was not part of his successful attempt to get people to leave him alone. 

Then, god decided to be up to his usual tricks and sent Kusuo yet another stabbing pain in his head. This time, he doubled over in his chair, and clutching his head, putting enough pressure that would've pulverized concrete. This time, his heart was raced at the unfamiliar stress that was placed on his body. Unrelated images, with that white film appeared in his mind's eyes again. The combination of his headache and precognitive images scrambled all the inner thoughts of people that were trickling into his brain through telepathy, causing people's voice to sound like garbled noises through a poorly tuned radio.

This had to be a continuation of his psychic ability trying to warn him of something. But what? Did something bad happen to grandpa? That cannot be because repeated clairvoyance indicated that grandpa was getting the ideal treatment. He already checked on his friends previously. Maybe something happened to the extended family that he did not even knew existed? No, he was not familiar with them so he had no point of comparison. 

"Kusuo?" Kuniharu looked at his son curiously, unfamiliar with the possibility of physical ailments afflicting his younger son. At least, not in recent time. "Are you sure you're alright."

Before Kusuo could respond, Kurumi and her mother, Kumi, came out of the double door that led to the treatment wing of the hospital. They look relieved, but still rightfully concerned. It looked like grandpa would have to stay overnight so the doctors can make sure that nothing neurological had occurred and a second night for observation. 

"Mama!" greeted Kuniharu, his concern immediately turned toward news of the grandfather. "Everything went well then?"

Kumi smiled encouragingly. There were still traces, and lines of worry on her face, but she was relieved, compared to how confused and scared she was during lunchtime. "Yes. The doctors said everything is alright. He's already up and complaining about the food and how the nurses are being so awful to him. What do you think, Kurumi?" 

Kurumi was behind Kumi, busy looking at her phone and frowning. "Why isn't...*garbled*...picking up?" Realizing that Kumi was looking at her, Kurumi put her phone away in the purse. "I'll just try *garbled* later." 

"Yes. He's back to his usual irritable self," Kurumi said with an encouraging smile. Her father was fine and she saw it with her own eyes. Her father was just getting old and these things are to be expected. "He's kept on telling us to go home, go to bed."

Kusuo still had enough presence of a mind to catch the euphemism. Meaning that he practically yelled and commanded you to leave, while begging you to stay in his head?

In the next few moments, the adults in the family chatted with each other while Kusuo recovered mostly from his most recent bout of the sudden head stabbing pain. The pain had depressed down to bearable level again, but that creeping anxiety was no longer at the edge of his awareness. He felt the strangest urge to panic. 

Perhaps this was side effect from such an awful day. He did have an all-day mid-term exam, grandpa's health scare, the stressful encounter with Teruhashi, having to teleport people to the hospital and having dad drop that bombshell of a fact about his paternal family. He had barely eaten anything all day and all the events of the day made it impossible to even want food. He really needed some time alone and some sleep. He seriously considered skipping school tomorrow. 

"Ku-chan," called Kurumi. "Thanks for helping out. Can you do us one more favor? Can you teleport all of us home?" 

The day might finally end.

Chapter Text

It was around 11:45 p.m. On June 15.

Kusuo laid in bed, in his ordinary everyday baby blue pajamas, taking deep breaths, rubbing his eyes, still trying to will this mysterious whatever-this-was away. He felt that a good night's sleep, a clear head, would be far more useful than attempting to resolve the issues now.

By now, he had finally seen everyone in the family through their pre-bedtime routine, including himself. The precognitive images seemed to have gone into overdrive within that same time. Now the images included random Shonen Jump Magazines, academic papers, books, certificates on the walls, limiters, random board games, and even fistfights. None of it made sense. It was like having psychometry, one of his less welcomed abilities, active at all times when he was not even touching anything. Unlike earlier in the day, despite the headache that came and went, he was able to still function, mostly. Now, this was so distracting that he could not sleep.

Kusuo stared at the clock on his nightstand, watching the seconds tick by.

If there is a God, please make this stop, he thought to the universe.

As if answering his prayer, the nonsensical images all suddenly stopped. The relief was much welcomed, but brief. A whole new set of mysterious physical symptoms manifested.

His entire body trembled uncontrollably and his heart began to pound. He could barely catch his breath as he felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.

The change was so severe and noticeable that he sat up in his bed immediately, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

The anxiety he felt earlier had increased, like having the world watch him in P.E. to look out for anything abnormal but many times worse. His entire body felt tight, his nerves were tingling and taut.

What is happening?

Did he catch something because his psychic powers were inactive for a while? A delayed infectious onset? He already tried to burn out whatever it was out three times with pyrokinesis so that could not be it. What about brain tumors? His x-ray vision did not bounce off mirrors. That cannot be it either since he was thoroughly checked out when his powers returned.

Maybe this is a side effect of his power returning and physical growth? People seemed to attach growth with the age of 18 and he was going to turn 18 in a couple of months.

Perhaps it was an issue with the five-time loops that he had to utilize? He could tell that his physical body turned back along with the time loop, but not his psychic abilities or his memory.

Or was his physic powers still trying to warn him about something? Like some sort of cataclysm so severe that even he could not resolve. Was humanity about to be wiped out? Was he about to die? His precognition was fickle and it seemed broken somehow, not with the amount of pain that it was giving him.

He needed answers now.

----------------------

"Aiura." Kusuo called out to the girl telepathically and got straight to it, "I need your foresight."

There were some sleepy mutterings and tossing and turning. But the girl got up quickly enough. She was alone in her heavily decorated sparkly bed. She had already gone to bed much earlier. A chick can only stay beautiful if she got enough sleep. "Kusuo...it's almost midnight...can't this wait?"

"No. It cannot." His voice was firm.

At the tone, Auira felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured on her. Kusuo was known to be straight to the point. Maybe Kusuo was about to confess his eternal love for her? Encouraged by her positive imagination, Aiura got up immediately and grabbed her crystal ball that was on the nightstand. "What do you want to know? You got a question?"

"Where do you see of me, say a month from now?"

"You woke me up for question as vague as that?" asked Aiura. You're not even going to ask me who your soulmate is?

"It's a question."

"Oh fine..." There was a moment of brief silence. "My crystal ball shows you still going to school, looking gurmpier than usual," responded Aiura. Her thoughts were immediately followed by an internal commentary. If that's even possible. My soulmate is a crabby and selfish enough of a man already.

"Thank you, Aiura-san. And no, I did not hear that."

Auira made a devious and impertinent expression. Kusuo was feeling generous enough to attach a "-san" to her name. But the question was strange enough that Aiura had to ask why. "Is something going on, Kusuo? Is this another end-of-the-world as we know it, again?"

"I'll let you know when I discover something."

----------------

So that was his answer. Whatever it was, he would be able to overcome it and continue going to school. But something bad was going to occur between now then. He picked up on the "grumpier" part so whatever it was, it was going to be upsetting, but not upsetting enough to mess up his routine a month from now.

But what? He never felt anger or sadness in his life because nothing was surprising. Mild annoyance, or even vengeful when his dessert disappointed his expectations, that's for certain. What would actually upset him? Another sports festival? His secret being out in the open? The ultra fancy coffee jelly was so disappointing and he had to burn down the manufacturer's factory for revenge? No, those were just irritations of life. His precognition ability did not activate at irritation.

But he knew that he cared deeply for people so maybe that was the source of upset.

Activating clairvoyance for far too many times that day, he crossed his eyes.

Did something happen to grandpa? And grandma? No. Clairvoyance told him that grandpa was recuperation just fine at the hospital and the doctors were still certain that he'll make a full recovery. Grandma was already asleep back in her home. They're fine.

What about his friends?

Did Nendo or Kaidou meet up with unexpected violence? His friends were accident-prone. No. That could not be it. They were both asleep in their bed, likely dreaming about ramen and Jet Black Wings.

Did Kuboyasu nearly got killed by one of his former gang associates? Doubt it. Kuboyasu's ability to survive physical harm was legendary for a human. No, Kuboyasu was getting into bed, after staying up late to read manga.

Was Hairo in some sort of an accident? No. The spikey red-head was sleeping peacefully in his bed after an after-dinner workout and scheduled study time. As expected, their enthusiastic class representative was dreaming about beating Nendo in sports.

Did something happen to Teruhashi? Was there some sort of weird psychic feedback because she had a crush on him and she was god's chosen angel who had all the luck? Or even something happened her perverted brother? A peek indicated that the world's most perfect pretty girl was asleep in her bed, feeling triumphant from her performance on the mid-term exam and the extra time she got to spend with Kusuo earlier. Her brother, Makoto was also home too, too tired from a weeklong movie shoot to bother his sister.

What about Yumehara? No. Yumehara was in her bed, sound asleep, after a bout of heady angst over about how she did less than well on her midterms than Kaido. The fact allowed her to pester Kaido for personal one-on-one tutoring but also hurt her chances of getting into the same college as Kaido. Aiura was back in bed too, already snoring.

And even, god forbid, Akechi and Toritsuka? Nope, Akechi was still up, his mind still racing with disjointed thoughts so he ended up looking into college choices, some of them were of extremely high reputation. Akechi was a smart young man, almost on the level of genius so it should be no problem for him. Toritsuka was sentenced to scrubbing the temple floors for hiding a raunchy magazine in the budda statues again and was currently plotting an escape from his duties.

Did Mera die from starvation? No. Ever since her father came back, Mera had begun to eat more regularly. Kusuo also made sure that he left his uneaten lunch in her locker earlier and he knew she ate that.

What about his parents? Peacefully asleep in their beds, relieved that grandpa was doing okay. Maybe his friend's parents and siblings? Come to think of it, he had never met Teruhashi's parents. What about the magician Chouno Uryoku and his sidekick Michael? Or Takahashi? Or Satou and Suzumiya?

All of his inner circle of friends and family were okay. Except for his grandfather and the ailments of old age, everyone was going about their ordinary lives peacefully.

Kusuo took a deep breath but it did not help. His heart was still beating like there was no tomorrow, and pounding so loud that he could hear it in his ears, feel it in his throat. He tried to think peaceful thoughts like the image of the Earth from outer space, or a world without cockroaches, or a sea of desserts. It was not helping.

Instead, he began to dry heave, trying to catch his breath. His body feels clammy and sweaty, but he still shivered and trembled terribly. It was not even hot in the room. Was he losing control over his pyrokinesis and cryokinesis?

Kusuo felt his throat catch. His eyes and cheeks were burning. Everything somehow ached, his heart was hurting, something he did not think was possible. He grabbed his chest in confusion. He felt emptier, like something, some part of him had disappeared, and not because he had not eaten all day. It was far more potent than the time that he used the second-generation of limiters, the one that took away his psychic powers for a time. That came with a sense of relief, not having to constrain his powers at all times, and not having to worry about every little movement was liberating.

Whatever this was came with an incredible sense of deepseated foreboding, like watching a horror movie, the music was crescendoing for the inevitable, inescapable reveal. Something very bad just happened and he did not know what. On a good note, whatever it was, it must had ended because the headache was noticeably ebbing away and his mind was finally clearing. His sight was becoming blurry though, likely from the exhausting day. Maybe his blood sugar was low since he did not have much of anything since breakfast earlier.

Then he felt something wet dripped on the back of his hand, on to the top of his bedsheets.

Startled, he touched the wetness. A few more drops later, he traced the source of the wetness to his chin and up to his face to his eyes.

Water was coming out of his eyes.

Kusuo was alarmed at this newfound development. He could not recall the last time this happened. He could communicate his wants well enough as a baby that he never had use for that outward expression to get what he wanted. He had to learn what emotion connected to tears meant through watching day-time television; he determined that tears meant many things, good and bad.

It was not even pollen season so the cause was not something as simple as that.

Were the tears a result of sadness, pain even joy? He was not hurt to the point of unbearable physical pain. Nothing about this day was joyful or funny.

So why was there water coming out of his eyes?

He employed all his will power to stop the waterworks. He had to focus and figure this out now. He was convinced that something was deeply wrong. Now that the headache mostly went way and the images had stopped, he could think clearly again. He took a general truthful reevaluation of his life in an attempt to go from a broad overview to detailed analysis so he could root out the problem.

His powers were in check, mostly. He managed to achieve a relatively normal, peaceful life so far, despite all the disastrous daily troubles. He stopped the destruction of Japan and the Earth a couple of times in the past year. He was a senior in high school with a close circle of friends and family who cared for him and all seemed well. Time was finally moving again. The future looked bright, peaceful, and ordinary. He was somewhat looking forward to it.

He ransacked his brain, trying to think of a reason why he was having such a physical sympathetic response while nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Kusuo looked back at the clock again, noting the time. It was just a little past one in the morning of June 16. Did he just stew on his bed for over an hour? And he still had not figured out why his body and his psychic powers were malfunctioning? What kind of all-powerful, ESP user was he?

Wait...today is June 16th. June 16th is important because June 16th is exactly two month before my birthday but it's someone's birthday...

Kusuo gasped and jumped out of his bed. A blossoming panic was setting in.

He forgot to check on the one person he never had to help or protect.

Kuusuke!

Chapter Text

-Calm down,- Kusuo told himself. - Everything is fine. It's Kuusuke. Kuusuke always took care of himself. Nothing happened. He's probably up to one of his tricks again.-

Kusuo took a moment to remind himself of all the stupid crap Kuusuke put him through. The endless impromptu competitions. The lies about the first generation limiters. Trickery involving Kusuo's friends and the elderly. Weird pleasurable reactions to the idea of winning against a psychic. The convoluted schemes with robots like Warp, the full-body armor, and human androids. The many experiments with explosives that would've killed a person. The long periods of radio silence when Kuusuke was away in the UK. The sincere disregard for the general good of humanity in favor of the personal wishes of a little brother.

-Probably won't hurt to check on him.-

At the risk of becoming permanently cross-eyed, he activated clairvoyance again.

Smoke. A lot of smoke. Black, pitchy, flaked with white embers. Endless smoke, rain, and darkness; nothing distinctive enough for him to grab hold of as to a location for teleportation.

Kusuo stamped down his normal assumption for the worse. His psychic powers were indifferent to human interpretation and that had lead to misunderstandings. The one winter day where Kusuo thought something terrible would befall his friends Nendo and Kaido came to mind. Were they in danger? barely.

In this case, Kuusuke might be having a grand ol' time testing a new energy weapon and just incinerated something. That would have easily explained the smoke and embers.

I just need to find him, and make sure.

Kusuo teleported to the last place he knew where Kuusuke resided. The lab.

---

Kusuo teleported just outside the lab. He stared at the edifice for a few minutes, taking in details provided by his x-ray vision, assessing the situation simultaneously with his general telepathy, and allowing time for his teleportation ability to recharge.

The lab location was isolated so that there was no one around for at least a kilometer radius. The only souls were the few sleeping forest animals and fish in the streams. Combined with the early morning time, that constant background hum of thoughts filtering through Kusuo's mind was blissfully absent. Kusuo did not hear his older's brother's thoughts. Maybe Kuusuke wore the telepathy canceler to sleep?

The lab building itself and the surrounding area was quiet. All the lights were out. The holes in the wall that came from the cat tank's energy discharge were patched. New trees were planted where they were wiped out so now there were rows of low laying areas fanning out of from the test bunker.

From having been there during that embarrassing match, Kusuo knew that most of the building was dedicated to lab space, testing bunker and a small area in the center for living area. X-ray vision had already told him that there were no other movements in the lab and test bunker area. Logics said that he was to find someone, he would have to locate the living area.

There.

The residential quarter was distinct from other areas. It was the only location with a bed, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Most of it was obscured by the monitoring equipment covering every open area on the walls. The teleportation recharge was over and Kusuo teleported to his brother's bedroom.

This was the first time Kusuo had been to his older brother's personal living space in recent times. Like a modern work environment, the lights and air conditioning turned on automatically upon sensing movement.

-I'm not an intruder...?-

Strange. Kuusuke should have utilized some sort of state-of-the-art security system. Kusuo had expected some sort of drone and an announcer over the loudspeaker of his presence.

Never mind that. Kusuo was here to find him.

The bed was made. The small kitchen was cleaned. The fridge was devoid of food. X-ray vision indicated that behind nearly all the walls were hidden push-to-open drawers containing an uncountable number of trinkets, tools, and tiny spare parts. Behind the drawers and directly behind most other walls were massive computers and data servers. Vacuum and cleaning robots, initiated by the presence of a person, slowly paced along, making very faint whirring noise as it cleaned. The place had an air of someone who had packed up for an extended leave.

The work desk was clean too. The stationaries and laptops were put away in drawers. The accessories like keyboard, headsets, mouse, were also in their drawers. All monitors were off. The only thing that was left out was the telepathy canceler.

-I should be able to find him by thought alone...unless...-

No. No need to contemplate that possibility now. Find the asshole first, deck him for making the little brother worry, then ask questions later.

On a whim, Kusuo took off a glove and touched the telepathy canceler.

The last memory on this particular object was immediately prior to the presentation of the psychic erasing limiter, nothing afterwards. So it seemed that Kuusuke had not worn the telepathy canceler for quite a while or that this area had been undistrubed since then.

What about the bed? No. The covers and sheets not been used in a while either and Kuusuke really did use the bed for just sleeping. There were no sexual acts typical of males their age which somehow did not surprise Kusuo.

In some ways, Kusuo knew he resembled his older brother closely in many aspects. Both were immuned to human physical beauty and deceitful lies. Both achieved feats that normal people could not ever hope to dreams of. Both had the ability to know what people were thinking at all times. Both had murderous thoughts when even slightly irritated. Both seemed unmoved by biological urges that should have been common. Even intelligence wise, Kusuo knew he could get close to Kuusuke's intellect, if the effort was put in.

Those similarities would have explained why they had such a hard time getting along. Both were too competitive and headstrong.

Kusuo rubbed his eyes. He had used his X-ray vision to the fullest extent here. No one was here. No hidden skeletons. No odd temperature differentials. No unusual pacement of stuff in the odd places. This was a dead end.

Kusuo needed to regroup and think this through. He teleported back to the house.

----------------------

Back home again, Kusuo took a moment to sink in his desk chair and think.

He was up against Kuusuke here, not some normal human. If Kuusuke wanted not to be found, it would take extraordinary measures even for someone like Kusuo. Simple teleportation to location or detection of thoughts by telepathy was unlikely to work. This would be tricky.

At that same time, Kusuo noted the smartphone on his desk and made a face.

-How about just call him instead? Idiot,- Kusuo berated himself.

Kusuo had to go get a smartphone back when he thought his power was permanently sealed and thought that his psychic powers would no longer work. At that time, Kuusuke distributed smartphones to everyone in the family. Kusuo had rolled his eyes, since he suspected that was just another way for Kuusuke to creep on him but took it anyways. It was not like the Saiki family had a lot of money and he doubted that his parents had budgeted a phone for their younger son.

There were only a few numbers programmed into the phone. Kusuo did not make a habit of sharing the number outside of the family. Not even the classmates at school knew he had a personal number. He heard plenty enough through telepathy, he did not need to hear it through a phone too. Worse, he would have to suffer the indignity of actually speaking with his mouth.

He dialed Kuusuke's number.

It rang, and rang, and rang. Then it picked up.

"Ah, it's my adorable little brother actually calling me!" came Kuusuke's cooing singsong voice from the phone.

Upon hearing that overly cheerful voice, Kusuo was about to remove his limiter and send a psychic blast at Kuusuke for making Kusuo be even worried about that annoying masochist.

"-But I'm not here. Leave a message after the beep."

Kusuo stared at the phone for five seconds and resisted the urge to throw the phone into outer space. What did he expect? Someone to actually pick up? Refused to be deterred, he hung up and called again.

-Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.- Kusuo repeated the word in his mind. Each time he heard his brother's annoying customized voice message, his sense of urgency and irritation deepened.

Still no answer. Kusuo sent a very rare text with the words , "Where are you?"

But Kusuo had another trick up his sleeves. He teleported downstairs where his mother's phone was charging on an end table in the living room.

Kuusuke was a mama's boy. He would never ignore mom's calls.

Kusuo quickly cracked her phone unlock PIN and went to the call feature.

The call history came up first.

There was one call in the morning to Kuusuke, sometime around seven in the morning. Kuusuke did not pick up.

Afterward, there were several calls to different people in the neighborhood association. It seemed that Mrs. Kaido and Mrs. Nendo were close to mom as they had several calls together. There was a call to Mrs. Kuboyasu. There were also calls to dad, no doubt to cheer him on during the workday.

Lastly, several calls late in the day and evening time to Kuusuke and no answer. These were likely calls to tell Kuusuke about grandpa's situation.

Curious, Kusuo checked the text message information.

Mom had also sent Kuusuke several text messages. She sent pictures, random links to tricks to prevent the seasonal flu, stupid internet videos, all of which Kuusuke provided the standard low effort response of "likes," "thumbs up," and "smiley face." Some of these were relatively late responses, but no more than 12 hours.

The earliest text message to Kuusuke from yesterday was soon after the morning call.

- Can you check on Ku-chan? He isn't feeling well. -

Somehow, the message hurt. Did Kusuo not take care of himself well enough that his mother had to ask Kuusuke for help? Kusuo had always tried hard to not cause problems for his mom.

The next few messages were details about grandpa's condition. All of it, one-sided text messages and no response.

The sinking feeling kept on growing. Kusuo called from mom's phone.

Same thing. The phone rang, and rang, and rang before going to voicemail. The recorded message was customized. "Mama. I'll call you back soon. No need to leave a message. Everything is alright."

Never before did Kusuo wished that the overly large TV in the living room would suddenly turn on and see that pale visage of his fair-haired brother. He would not even mind the automatic impulse to make the TV explode when he saw that face.

-Another dead end. So vexing...next option.-

He briefly considered asking Aiura again as a possibility due to her reliable ability to locate items, but immediately dismissed the idea. Of his friends at school, only Teruhashi and Toritsuka had true extended interaction with his older brother. Both of those meetings resulted in only in trouble.

Kaido and Nendo had met Kuusuke too back in London. Since one was an idiot and the other lacked social awareness, neither understood the true masterful manipulator that was Kuusuke. To them, Kuusuke was just some wacko who sent them airplane tickets and say strange things to make them uncomfortable. No. It was best if no one else gets involved.

Besides, he already owed a major favor to Aiura for earlier. He was not looking forward to the collection on that favor.

Kusuo made a face at the idea the next possible, most likely to succeed, solution.

Thoughtography. He hated having to use thoughtography, the ability to transfer an image onto paper.

The most obvious use was thoughtography was to transmit images of his imagination onto paper. This was useful when he had to fill out worksheets quickly. Or, if he wanted to, to finish a test within a minute. Generally, not a very useful skill outside of filling out a bunch of workbooks, so to convince Kaido's mom that he and Nendo were a couple of smart kids that Kaido should be allowed to associate with.

The second use was to transfer the image of an item in the world as if a real physical camera was pointing at the scene. This aspect of thoughtography was useful in locating objects, but it was fickle.

First, the ability required complete focus for one minute for one image development, without being distracted at all. That was hard to do typically, not when he was constantly bombarded by his telepathy.

Second, the "locating" ability was as tangential benefit based on background imagery surrounding the object, not the thing to be located first. Which led to the third issue.

A minimum number of three pictures was needed to triangulate the relevant item he was looking for. Added to the recovery period to interpret an image, often distorted because it was not a perfect image transcription, that would easily be ten minutes to fifteen minutes to look for something that was lost. This was assuming that the item to be located was something nearby.

He was trying to find a person, this time, not a dog, a baseball, or just trying to put together some sort of passable artwork. He did not have the luxury of time for this ability to be unreliable. It needed to work absolutely the first time.

The solution would have to be aggressive, creative and foolproof. Sloppy brute force won't work against the likes of Kuusuke. It took Kusuo a few minutes to think of an appropriate method.

After teleporting back to his room, Kusuo quickly found a ream of 500 sheets of paper stacked on a bookshelf. He ripped the outer wax paper packaging and placed it on the desk.

Taking care to gently remove one of the two limiters in his head, slipped it into a small box for safekeeping, and put the box in a pocket. With one limiter out, certain ability recharge times were reduced significantly. The issue of his strength is magnified significantly as well, but the other limiter should keep him from accidentally doing too much damage. He would need thoughtography development restrictions to be reduced in this exercise.

Kusuo stood in the middle of the room and levitated with his legs crossed, one hand out. Calling the ability with a mental voice command, Kusuo's eyes glowed a brilliant white. With psychokinesis, the sheets of paper, one by one, flew from the paper stack and briefly brushed by a finger, before spreading out as if being hung to dry in a dark room, creating a layered vault of paper around him.

All in all, it took about 5 minutes to process all 500 sheets of paper. The simultaneous development of the pictures themselves took another 5 minutes.

Next Kusuo sorted the images by relevancy. As expected, images of his friends were scattered though out, as well as his parents and grandparents. Unexpectedly were also images of food like curry and coffee jelly. Those images went to a separate pile.

But none of Kuusuke's person. Most of the expected related images were of smoke and embers. Some had some architectural features in the background, which were important clues.

Activating psychokinesis again, all the images that were part of the location effort was cut up into confetti and balled up into thousands of little colored dots, reordered and spread out in the middle of his room to create a three-dimensional image of the location detailed enough for his mind to grab hold on to for teleportation.

Kusuo had his answer. It was an office building fairly far away.

Cambridge.

----

The scene was chaos. Firetrucks, police cars, emergency management vehicles crowded and blocked off the streets. Lights shone like a perverted Christmas light display. There was a large, seven-story office glass-lined building that was engulfed in white-hot flames. Bystanders and evacuees standing around, watching from across the street. A large plume of black pitchy smoke drifted into the stratosphere.

Kusuo teleported to the scene, directly to the front entrance of the building. It was raining hard, quickly soaking through his clothes. The combination of the plume and the weather caused the generation of lightning. The heat from the flames caused a windstorm. He looked up and saw the building's name, "Psi Industries."

"Excuse me, Sir!...with pink hair, in the pajamas. You're not supposed to be here! You'll get hurt," a firefighter yelled. "You need to get back across the street!"

Kusuo did not turn, busily listening to the voices picked up by his telepathy and allowing x-ray vision to penetrate the building.

It seemed that a fire had broken out about a couple of hours ago.

The witnesses and bystanders all recalled a sudden breaking of all the windows of the building before being engulfed in flames. Firefighters were on the scene within minutes. Since it was raining heavily already, the firefighters thought that with some firefighting foam spray, the flame should be easily reduced.

Not so. The fire burned without abating. Whatever caused this fire appeared to have some sort of unlimited fuel source. The emergency workers just shut off the natural gas line already so that possibility was eliminated.

The only good thing was that the fire had started after regular working hours and that the building was almost empty when the fire started. As far as the emergency workers knew, almost everyone made it out.

Almost.

Kusuo clenched his fist to keep from reacting. He was reminded of his crime drama and novels that he liked the read. Assume nothing until he had proof.

Kusuo stared at the fire again. Judging by the color of the flame, the x-ray vision of the structural supports in the building, and his general pyrokinesis, this fire was not natural at all. Instead of the typical 250 to 500 degrees Celsius of ordinary fire, this fire had an average temperature of molten rock, well over 1,000 degrees Celsius.

At this temperature, even Kusuo had to be careful.

Putting the fire out was out of the question. There were too many people around and it would require an exercise of an ability that Kusuo had not a lot of practice with. He already had gotten the attention of a firefighter. He was not about to get the attention of the bystanders. He would need to be in the fire.

"Hey you! Are you even listening to me? Get away from there! It's dangerous" the fireman from earlier was still yelling at him. "Why are you trying to go in? Wait...where did you go?"

Kusuo teleported into the lobby of the building.

-So hot.-

Kusuo raised his arms and squinted his eyes. The heat was so intense that his clothes dried immediately upon teleportation to the lobby of the building. The flames were so bright that it would have blinded a normal person.

It was a good thing that he had to remove a limiter because he doubted that his regular cryokinesis could keep up under normal circumstances. Plus, with only one limiter in, the teleportation recharge time reduced to seconds, and x-ray vision required far less time to penetrate the various layers of the building.

Now that he was inside the building, he noted a very particular cool spot. Only on the second floor, was a spot right around 70 degrees Celsius. There was something in the shape of a person. That had to be what he was looking for.

It was a small room, full of books. This had to be the old fashioned library of whatever company this was. Scattered on the floor were blue journals and next to the journals was a shape and figure that looked to be a gray statue of Kuusuke, in his usual characteristic lab coat, laying down, face up.

Kusuo looked away for a brief moment, tamping down on the thudding in his chest.

This might not even be who he thinks. This could be another one of Kuusuke's sick jokes. Granted, Kuusuke had yet to burn down a building this large to prove a point, but it was not out of the realm of possibility.

Mustering the courage to look again, Kusuo looked to the shape on the floor. His heart immediately began to pound when he realized what he was seeing.

This was not a statue. This was ash. There were no muscle, bone, internal organs. It was a solid mass of ash of varying density that seemed to match the internal densities of a human being, preserved in the shape of his older brother. There was no time to burn off the soft tissues, leaving a skeleton. No, whatever had happened, the heat had been so intense that the physical body, bone included, turned into a delicate matrix of ash.

Not all was lost, yet. Kusuo teleported again, spanning the short distance between the standing and kneeling on top of the journals, next to the ash form. Hovering a hand so close to very faintly touching the figure's head, he summoned the ability that his father requested of him far too many times.

-Restoration.-

The gray ash slowly began to fade and skin color was revealed. The effect was very much like rewinding the burning edge of a piece of paper to reveal the original sheet. This ability also took a lot more power this time. He was not simply returning the body state to what it was 24 hours prior, but converting matter from a state of unorganized, non-living carbon atoms to active cellular life. He was not even sure if it would work.

Kusuo felt a sense of relief when he saw his older brother's face appearing again. It was confirmation that this was indeed Kuusuke. Never had he felt so glad to see that messy mop of dusty blonde hair, now at shoulder length, and that overly pale face. The eyes were closed, as if sleeping. He even felt the need to hug this annoying sibling, followed by a punch in the face, of course.

Kusuo lifted the hand, feeling the need to rub his face due to how suddenly tired he felt. It had been an overly long day. Now even more so that he had expanded so much psychic powers in such a short period of time. The adrenaline that he kept him awake so far had finally begun to diminish. He felt that he was at the finish line of a terrible trial.

As soon as the hand was lifted away from Kuusuke's form, the body began to disintegrate. This time, instead of turning back into a delicate matrix of ash, the form turned into embers that vaporized and disappeared into the air.

Within seconds, there was not even a speck of dust left.

Kusuo knelt there, staring at the space where Kuusuke's form formerly occupied, not sure how to react. He tried to summon a coherent thought, to explain how impossible this was, but could not. He felt frozen in place, dumbstruck. It was like those the few times that he had time traveled, and figured out that the future had somehow been destroyed or that the butterfly effect had resulted in a future he did not want. Unlike those times, though, he felt completely paralyzed as unfamiliar sympathetic bodily response threatened to take over his being.

He could only think back to the one solution he must take when backed into a corner.

-Turn back time!-

Immediately, the temperature in the building seemed to cool and the world seemed to groan. The journals on the ground seemed to fly back onto the shelf. The darken charred ceiling tiles began to lighten. The effect seemed extremely slow somehow, like something was not working.

The space where Kuusuke's form previously occupied though, remained absent, as if the turn-back time ability was voided in the space-time where Kuusuke's form previously existed.

-No! The powers overlapped too closely!- Kusuo realized the oversight. -This isn't going to work!-

The unfamiliar physical sympathetic response he felt earlier back home manifested again with a vengeance. His entire body throbbed. His nerves were wounded so tight he thought he was going to break in two. His heart was beating so loudly, so rapidly that he thought it was going to stop.

-This is not happening. This is not reality. This is just a nightmare. I'm going to wake up soon.-

At that same moment, the room was beginning to catch on fire. The building groaned again as the structural steel, weakened from the intense, prolonged fire, began to buckle. The telecommunication equipment from the roof, too heavy for the melted steel to stay in place, began crashing through the floors below. The scorching heat, hot enough to harm an all-powerful psychic, began to encroach on Kusuo, causing him unfamiliar physical pain, reminding him of the reality of a very present physical hazard.

Almost mindlessly, Kusuo teleported again, this time, back home.

---

The results of this last teleportation effort were messy. The journals, the bits of charred commercial carpet, a toasted office plant, and half burnt ceiling tiles all were teleported back home with him. As a consequence, his desk, some of his book collections were apported back to the office fire.

Kusuo was worse for wear. Bits of his pajamas were burnt. There were dirt and soot on his hands and cheeks. He sat crouched on the bed, shaking hard. His expression was pained.

In his memory, he could only recall one event that felt familiar to this one. He recalled his parent's feelings back in fifth grade, when he was just beginning to understand that there was a point of no return. The brush of his parents despairing thoughts when they thought their baby boy was dying.

Whatever this was had to be many times worse.

He tried clairvoyance again and again, wishing and hoping to see that familiar nasty smirk or a mop of messy unkept hair.

Nothing. Not even the smoke and embers. It was confirmation.

Kusuo buried his face in his hands. He finally got it. The precognitive images throughout the day made obvious sense now.

-Those were our shared memories and some of his own.-

The childhood toys. The rock-paper-scissors. Evidence of daily life growing up together. The broken furniture from his nighttime bed psyching. Kuusuke sharing esoteric books and writing entire books full of proofs in his constructions of the limiters and the rather grotesque requirement for pins to penetrate through the skull and into the frontal lobe of Kusuo's head. The fistfights. Kuusuke's own chaotic, complex, incredibly violent unfiltered thoughts in pursuit of winning a one-sided competition. The endless formulas as part of Kuusuke's job.

Kusuo hugged his knees and he felt unfamiliar, uncontrollable sensation wash over in his entire body, which caused him to tighten his arms. Unrecognizable noises emitted from his throat and chest.

He ignored his bodily reactions as he came to another terrible conclusion.

His psychic powers were not malfunctioning at all. In particular, his precognition ability was working perfectly this entire time. The danger to his person was very real.

That protective assurance that his older brother had provided and represented all these years as the indisputable creator of the limiters and his near-equal was gone.

If Kusuo ever run into trouble again with his psychic powers, there would be no one who can help him.

Chapter Text

"Mama! I'm ready and pumped for another day of work," said Kuniharu as he made his grand entrance to the breakfast table. "And it's going to be a beautiful day because of you."

"That's wonderful, Papa," greeted Kurumi with a wide smile. Though there were bags underneath her eyes from worrying about her father the night before, she was immediately bright at seeing her beloved husband. "My day is going to be perfect because of your love."

Kuniharu smiled wide, encouraged by the positive feedback he received.

This was a good start to the day. Grandpa's health scare had everyone on edge. Kuniharu, as the head of the household, wanted to be there for his wife and his family. So he got up extra early, so early that he was able to beat his son, Kusuo, to the breakfast table. This meant plenty of time to enjoy his wife's presence, alone and still have the time to drive to the train station, catch the train to town and get to work just on time.

It looked to be a good decision to get up early, too, since it was raining outside. Traffic was going to be bad and the commute even longer.

There was no rest for the salaryman.

The breakfast spread was thinner than the previous day, since Kurumi got up a little later than usual. This was to be expected because they did get to bed later than usual. Breakfast itself was still a healthy mix of fruits, juice, coffee, and heavenly pancakes.

The couples began their breakfast in no time, wanting to spend the ritual with each other.

As a thank-you-for-teleporting, Kurumi placed a coffee jelly at Kusuo's usual sitting place. Hopefully, Kusuo wouldn't mind her request to teleport her back to the hospital again, sometime today. The visit was not absolutely necessary, but Kurumi was not 100 percent certain that her mother was at an age to remember all the detailed hospital instructions. It would do well for her peace of mind if she spends the day with them.

Speaking of Kusuo. Where was he? He was typically a punctual young man who followed a predictable morning routine. Maybe he was still sick?

Still concerned, Kurumi checked her phone to see if her elder son had responded to her text from yesterday.

Nothing. Maybe Kuusuke was busy?

Seriously, did the Saiki family hit a stretch of bad luck? First Ku-chan was not feeling well. Then her father got a stroke. Now Ku-kun was not responding to her. At least Kuniharu was still cheerful. Something still bothered her since she was usually the first to get up in the family.

"Papa. Did you hear someone crying from Ku-chan's room last night?" asked Kurumi with a frown

"Yeah. He probably was up late watching TV, or left it on," said Kuniharu. "You know how he is, rotting his brain with so much TV."

Kurumi nodded, agreeing with the explanation. Kusuo did watch far more TV than any normal kid should. Despite how he now has plenty of friends who dragged him to plenty of after school leisure activities, Kusuo still liked to be alone and doing solitary activities. "You're right. He might just be tired from midterms and wanted to vegetate in front of the TV."

"Huh. Midterms?" asked Kuniharu. His life was very much one of the salaryman, focused mostly on work, pleasing the bosses, and providing the financial means for the family. Details of his children's academic life were rarely on his radar. It was not for the lack of interest, but more due to the pointlessness of it.

"Yes. I heard from Kaido-san that her son stayed up to midnight studying for two weeks straight for yesterday's midterms. She said that she was going to boost his allowance if he made it to the top 25 places. Do you think we should do the same for Ku-chan?"

Kuniharu raised an eyebrow, slightly incredulous. "Are you actually worrying about Kusuo's grades?"

Kurumi played with the hem of her apron. "A little. I know he does average because that's what he aims for. But I can't help but think about him getting good enough grades so he can get into a good college and getting a good job in the future. University entrance exams are coming up, you know."

Now Kuniharu was completely surprised by this. "Since when are you concerned about Kusuo's academics? And where is this coming from?"

"Kuniharu," she addressed her husband formally, something she did only when it was serious, "I know that we've agreed to let the kids develop as they wished and teach them to do right instead of do great. That we should be more concerned about their happiness than their achievements. But aren't we a little too hands-off with both of them? Kaido-san knows all her three children's schools, clubs, and cram school schedules by heart and where they are at all the time. She knows all their grades by subject. I haven't even seen Ku-chan's report card since the second grade."

"Honey, we are talking about our children here. You know that they are not like other kids."

"But..."

"Stop comparing yourself to the other moms. No one else has children like Kuusuke and Kusuo. Considering what they are and how they haven't started World War III, I think you are doing an amazing job."

Kurumi still did not seem convinced.

"Look, don't worry about testing and school academics. Did you forget that Kuusuke got into Cambridge Unversity at fourteen and already graduated with a doctorate? If you think about it, he's already been out in society (1) for years. You know he didn't do all that to challenge himself. None of the other moms have a kid like that.

"And you know Kusuo can be just as academically gifted as Kuusuke, he just chooses not to show it. We're lucky that Kusuo decided that he wants to appear normal and that we actually got to experience raising a kid. Kuusuke was barely home since he could walk. So stop worrying about Kusuo's grades and comparing yourself to the other moms. They are both perfect the way they are and it's all owed to you."

At long explanation and encouragement, Kurumi seemed to relax and reassured. Kuniharu had gotten quickly to the root of the problem. It was useless, trying to compare herself to her other mom friends. Her mom friends would probably outcast her if they knew how truly exceptional her two sons were and how little effort that Kurumi expanded on their education. It made her feel slightly guilty to be so blessed with such understanding husband and two flawless angels as her babies.

"Well, in other news," said Kuniharu. This time, it was his turn to fidget. "My mother, Risa, is coming for a visit."

Immediately Kurumi looked as if she was struck by lightning. She nearly choked on her juice. "But...but...didn't she disown you?"

"She did. And she somewhat un-disowned me. She wants to see where we live. Actually visit with us."

Kurumi made a face. "You think she's still mad at me?"

"I think it's more on me, the whole getting-married-before-graduating-college sort of thing. And, it's been over 20 years. Relax. No one can hold on to that silly grudge for so long."

"I'll let Kuusuke know. I don't think he's ever met her," said Kurumi, looking at her phone and quickly tapping out a message.

-Your dad's mom, Risa, is visiting in a couple of days. It would be nice if you're here.- She only looked at the phone for the briefest moment longer, hoping for the typical quick response.

"I know, wouldn't he be surprised," said Kuniharu with a mysterious smile. He did not catch the flash of disappointment on his wife's face when there was not an immediate return text. He was onto the next topic. "Speaking of which...today's Kuusuke's birthday, right?"

At that, Kurumi brightened. "That's right! It's Ku-kun birthday. His 20th." Her eyes gleamed in the memory of her eldest son, the joy and fear when he was first placed in her arm, compared to the handsome adult he was now. "Do you remember the day he was born? That silly doctor said he wasn't going to make it this far. That 'he'll be lucky if he makes it into his 20s.'"

"Yes. We were so worried, since he was premature (2). But it all turned out to be fine. He gained weight in no time, no health issue at all," said Kuniharu. Then in a side whisper. "And started insulting me by the time he was two months old..."

Kurumi was not focused on that. Her mind was already thinking of ways to bring a smile to her first baby. "I know! We should record us singing a happy birthday song to him!"

"Eh...!?" Kuniharu made a face. Birthdays were a big thing between the married couple and one of the many reasons to be upbeat and celebratory in their years together. Their children, not so much. As far as he knew, both of their children hated the attention that came with cringy birthday celebrations and went to incredible lengths to avoid it. "Wait...honey. Are you sure that we should?"

"We absolutely should. It's the least we can do for all those times Ku-kun gave us presents for our wedding anniversary and birthdays. He never missed one, you know. And we should with all of us, you, me and Ku-chan. We should record us singing him a happy birthday song and send the video."

The idea was greeted with an incredulous expression. "You do know Kusuo is going to gag at that, right? As in, he might physically vomit, especially if it's for his older brother."

"Ku-chan doesn't have to sing," said Kurumi. "He just has to be in the video. Come on. It'll be fun. We'll send it to my parents too. It'll cheer my father up to know that he lived long enough to see a grandbaby turn 20."

"I don't know that's such a great idea," said Kuniharu with a grimace. Seriously? Did she not remember how the two beat on each other every chance they get? Kurumi certainly had a selective vision of her two boys. They'll be lucky if Kusuo did not accidentally destroy the recording device. "Kusuo is going to say no," Kuniharu said, trying to be the voice of reason.

At this point, Kurumi pulled her usual overly-sweet-but-near-explosion-smile. She was about to snap if she did not get what she wanted. "Just go get him."

Appropriately cowed at such a scary expression, Kuniharu had to go along with the suggestion. "Sure. I'll go get the great Kusuo-sama."

"Thank, Papa!" said Kurumi, now back to her no-worries, no-stress self. "I'll go dig around for some candles and a lighter. We'll use the pancake as the cake."

----------------------

On the way up the stairs, Kuniharu briefly looked out the window of the second-floor stairs. Darn. It seemed like it was going to another one of those all-day raining days. It was summer though and rainy days like this were to be expected.

Kusuo can hear us just fine. I wonder why he didn't come down in the first place? thought Kuniharu.

Not giving the question any further thought, Kuniharu proceeded to Kusuo's door. His hand on the door handle, not even bothering to knock.

The door was locked. Now, that was strange. Since when did Kusuo lock his door?

That brat probably locked it because he heard me coming! thought Kuniharu, a bit annoyed. When did he, the head of the household, become the doormat of the family? He knocked, probably a little louder than he had to.

"Yo. Kusuo. Mama and I are going to video record us singing the happy birthday song for your older brother and send it to him," Kuniharu yelled at the door. He did not need to, but just in case Kusuo was still asleep. "We want you in the video."

There was no response. He did hear a slight shuffling so he knew someone was inside.

Probably ready to run off with teleportation already, thought Kuniharu. Then he remembered how frightening Kurumi could get if she did not get her way. Plus, he did love her and find doing things to make her happy a pleasure.

"Kusuo, I know you and Kuusuke have your problems and I'm sure you don't want to, but he is your brother. Just come down. It'll make your mother happy."

At that, the lock on the door clicked and the door was opened to a slit just wide enough to see a full face.

Kusuo was still in his pale blue pajamas, which was odd. Were those scorch marks on the edges of the sleeves and cuffs? There were heavy bags underneath his eyes. He had his usual frown, like the world overly disappointed him, that he had to stoop so low as to tolerate humanity for all seventeen, going on eighteen years of life. But there was a slight downcast undertone to it.

"Did you stay up too late to watch a movie about a kid and his dog, huh?" asked Kuniharu. Those sad heartwarming stories about man's best friend could move anyone's hearts.

As usual, Kusuo's expression did not even twitch.

Kuniharu grinned, thinking that he had guessed right. "You, my young son, should take a bit of advice from your elders. You should learn to get to bed early and get ready for school early, like your fine father." For effects, Kuniharu lightly adjusted his tie at his throat. It was rare for Kuniharu to have gotten ready earlier than the almighty Kusuo.

The door slammed closed.

Two seconds later, Kuniharu heard his wife's enthusiastic happy chirpy voice from downstairs. "Good morning Ku-chan! You're just in time! I can't find the lighter, so can you light these candles for me?"

Kuniharu slouched a bit. The damn kid. He got dressed in a second and teleported!

Still grumbling about how disrespectful his children were to their elders, Kuniharu made his way downstairs

Back to the breakfast table again, Kurumi looked happy and proud. On the table was a stack of pancakes with exactly 20 tanned candles jammed on top in the shape of the number 20.

Kusuo, now in his usual school uniform, without the jacket, was next to the impromptu birthday cake. Per his mother's request, he lightly touched the tips of the candles with a finger, pyrokinesis activated to lit the candles one by one. He seemed a unsteady, like he was going to be positively sick from this exercise.

"Oh, no don't look so ill at the idea of pretending to be happy for Kuusuke. It will literally take only seconds of your life," quipped Kuniharu.

"Papa! No ruining this day. No one is pretending. It's Ku-kun's birthday and we are happy about it." Kurumi held her phone up so and flipped to selfie-function. She angled the phone so that the makeshift pancake cake was in view with lit candles. The important part was to make sure the three of them were in view of the phone camera.

At the same time, Kuniharu checked the watch and almost fell over. "Ah! Honey, hurry up. I'm going to be late if I don't leave in 5 minutes!"

Kurumi quickly positioned the smartphone again and hit record. "Ku-kun. Happy 20th's birthday. We want to wish you a happy birthday. We're going to sing in three, two, one!"

For the next thirty seconds, discordant soprano and horrible tenor voices sang a rendition of the traditional happy birthday song that was so cacophonous that it sent the family's outdoor cat Amp and the indoor cat, Warp, screeching and ducking for cover. Birds that were hiding in the trees on the family property flew away disoriented. It was so awful, some of the cups and the glasses of the picture frames in the family dining room cracked.

"Ku-kun," said Kurumi to the camera, looking mighty proud once she was done. "Mama will make you a real cake when you come visit. Okay?" She hit the stop-recording icon then hit the send button.

Back at the dining room table, Kusuo was still leaning over the pathetic looking pancake cake. One finger hovered on the last candle that had remained unlit. The other hand covered his mouth and his chest heaved.

Kuniharu observed this phenomenon and poked at his wife. "See, I've told you that he was going to gag at this."

This time, it was Kurumi who was in a hurry. "Honey! You're going to be late!"

The couple made an elaborate dance of professing eternal love to each other again while getting the work bag, the large coat, the umbrella, the house key, the cellphone, the wallet, and all the other little trinkets needed for work. They bid each other goodbye, spoke of the eternal heartbreak that was to be for the next several hours, before the door was finally opened and Kuniharu finally made it out with no time to spare.

"Ah! It's raining cats and dogs out here!" yelled Kunihaur before turning a corner to get into his car and drove off.

Back at the breakfast table, Kusuo had already blown out the fire hazard of the numerous tiny candles and started to clean up. As the youngest in the family, and therefore closest to the heart, he was the one who helped out mom with the domestic work.

"Thank you, Ku-chan," said Kurumi when she was finally back at the breakfast table. She smiled at him happily. What her husband said was true. Ku-chan was perfect the way he was. He was such a thoughtful kid.

Kusuo busied himself with cleaning off the breakfast table. He didn't touch his food. The fruit was packed away. The remaining juice and coffee poured down the sink. A touch restored the cracks in the glasses and cups that cracked during the hellish rendition of the Happy Birthday Song. The pancake was not salvageable, now all soggy with syrup, candle wax, and odd concoction of sugar so it was chucked into the garbage. As for the pack of coffee jelly, he looked at it and quietly tossed it in the garbage too.

Kurmi saw this and recalled that coffee jelly is best served immediately out of the fridge. It had been out for nearly half an hour. Oh well, it wasn't the best brand of coffee jelly anyways and her baby boy had refined tastes.

There was a moment of silence before something unusual happened. Kusuo initiated a conversation.

"Ka-san. I am not well today. I'm staying home."

"Is it your headaches again?" asked Kurumi, automatically troubled.

"No. That is over."

Kurumi tilted her head curiously and observed him now washing the dishes. Did he really find doing something nice for his brother that odious? No. Something was clearly off. "Ku-chan. You're shaking a little. Are you sure you're feeling alright? How about I call your older-"

"No!"

Kurumi jumped slightly, not sure how to react. Kusuo had never raised his voice, telepathic and actual, in her recollection, at least not to her. She felt hurt.

Kusuo detected this and soften his dour facial expression down to his usual, blank stare. "Sorry. I am not going to school today. Can you let the school know? Tell them I'm sick or something."

Something about Kusuo's posture caught Kurumi's eyes. This was her baby boy, after all. He seemed dispirited, lacking his usual snarky spite. She wanted to say something, but she remembered the conversation she had with Kuniharu earlier. About how both of their children were simply perfect and that they've taught them right. It was not a wrong thing for her to be so hands-off and not prying. If he needed help, he would let them know. At this moment, he was asking her for a small favor, a very rare event indeed.

"Of course, Ku-chan. Take the day off," said mom. Papa was right. I shouldn't have make Ku-chan be in the birthday greeting....

Then she thought about Kuusuke's possible reaction to the birthday video. Would he make a face? Would he shake his head? Would he rush home to say "thank you" to her and Papa? Would he rag on Kusuo for being badgered into this? Kuusuke would laugh, of course. He did enjoy teasing his younger brother. She thought of his bright smile and the feel of his gratitude and hug when he visits them the next time. She loved how tall he had gotten, even taller than Kuniharu, and in spite of having such a short mother.

She then imagine how Kusuo was going to be when he was twenty. Probably just as tall, but a little more stout. Of the two, Kusuo had always been the healthier child. She'll have to remember to get Kuusuke to sing also for Kusuo in a couple of months. Kusuo would be so embarrassed and probably would try to stop it now he knew that she had the idea, but she was sure that such awkward displays of affection secretly made her baby boy happy.

Her babies were growing up just beautifully and her heart felt full.

Outside, it only rained harder.

Chapter Text

It was the unusualness of the day that put Aiura in a foul mood.

It had started with Kusuo's odd request last night. In her recollection, it was the first time Kusuo had asked for a fortune-telling of his own fate.

Aiura did as was directed and found Kusuo's fortune to be very dull indeed: continue going to school, wearing the same uniform, looking even unhappier than he usually was. Knowing Kusuo's usual self-absorbed tendencies, he probably had to spend too much time with Teruhashi or Cafe Mami closed.

Then he said, "thank you."

At the time, Aiura brushed it off a common courtesy. Once she got up in the morning and had the time to process the words, she realized that not even helping Kusuo with the whole end-of-the-country volcanic eruption had gotten a "thank you" out of him.

It could have been the fact that she automatically asked him if she could kiss him, after he and his clones stopped the eruption. Did she expect a "yes" to the question?

Absolutely.

Aiura, unlike Toritsuka, generally did as Kusuo instructed and did it well. She avoided talking to him at school. She did a favor for a romantic rival, Teruhashi, per Kusuo's instructions. She deliberately screwed over her cash cow by lying at her fortune-telling job after he saved her from a gang. She pretended to be Kaido for an entire day when Kusuo accidentally turned Kaido and Nendo into stone. She risked her life by trusting Kusuo's clones and finding eruption locations. Without her help, Japan would have been destroyed.

None of that got a "thank you."

It never bothered her because he usually paid her back by not telling her to leave when she ambushed him at a cafe. On certain rare occasions, he actually paid for her cafe snack and admitted that she was reliable. He was her soulmate and he appreciated the fact by ordering her around.

Kusuo really was an asshole.

A god-like asshole. But an asshole nevertheless.

His telepathic voice last night, though, did sound distracted. His immediate gratefulness to her was completely out of character for him. His answer to her question of possible future doom and gloom sounded uncertain.

If Kusuo was anything, it was that he was perturbed by nothing.

The volcanic eruption that would've ended the lives of millions did get him to clench his teeth as he suppressed the raw power of a planet, but that was understandable. With everything else, he was always as unmoved as a statue.

Then today, Aiura woke up to rain.

And it rained, all day long.

That was something that was not an Aiura's radar. It was supposed to be hot and sunny, perfect for her to show off the glow of her perky boobs.

As a powerful fortune teller, Aiura had never missed the weather forecast. She was one of those rare chicks who never had a bad hair day or forget an umbrella because she usually checked the weather the night before and lo-and-behold, the weather was exactly what she predicted.

If that true miss in fortune-telling did not give her the willies, the effects of Kusuo's coincidental absence from school did.

Everything at school seemed to be going wrong.

First, in the morning, there was a metal fire in the school cafeteria because one of the self-proclaimed geniuses in freshmen class decided to show off by throwing a piece of purified sodium into an udon noodle soup. That got three people sent to the nurse's office.

That sodium fire led to a fire alarm, for which a lot of people got wet not just from the sprinklers, but the fact people had to stand outside in the pouring rain. Actual firefighters tried water first, which made the fire worse, before trying a chemical fire retardant.

At some point, there was lightning and weird coronas in the sky. It was all pretty looking, until the lightning struck the main power substation in town and the power went out. Not exactly a problem, until lunchtime when there was no power to make actual food.

The weather was so bad that a tree fell into the gym, narrowly missing the boys who were playing basketball at the time. Good thing Nendo, Hairo, and Kuboyasu were there. Their instinctive thinking got most of the kids to a safe hallway. Akechi was smart enough to slip out to the library and avoided the whole situation but it was too dark to read because the power was out.

In the afternoon, a tanker truck full of diesel fuel crashed into the front gate of the school and started a second fire. This time, several people had to go to the nurse's office and a couple to the hospital.

The number of people asking her to fortune tell break up scenarios went through the roof.

Let's not even get started on misfortune to people's pets.

Then that no good, horrible-improved-to-bad luck Suzumiya from 3rd year, Class 2 decided that she wanted to talk with Toritsuka about doing a temple visit to increase her luck. Without Satou's incredible ability to stay average and mitigate her barely manageable useless guardian spirit, Toritsuka had somehow tripped, crashing into Aiura, for which there was a bucket of dirty mop water that got thrown up in the air and got all three of them wet.

Aiura was so fed up by the day's all-around bad karma that she went down to the 3rd year's Class 4, took a minute to find Satou, dragged him to Suzumiya who was now looking grosser because another student who was carrying a trash can tripped and dropped trash all over her.

"Get your girlfriend out of here and back to your class!" huffed Aiura, not even caring about the amount of attention was at her.

Satou blushed at the mention of "girlfriend." Suzumiya blushed slightly too, but was preoccupied with her current state.

Toritsuka, being the hormone-addled young man that he was, tried to get sympathy for his sorry state.

Aiura saw this and felt like strangling Toritsuka. She dragged him out into the near-empty hallway and yelled at him. "And you, Toritsuka, why didn't you channel an actual firefighter spirit in the morning instead of letting those idiots use water and worsen the fire?"

"I was in the bathroom when that happened," said Toritsuka. "And that's a really dangerous situation. You know those things can really hurt us, even if we are the PK Psychikers."

Aiura felt like drop-kicking the monk into next week, despite the truth in his words.

Where was Kusuo when you needed him? All of this was something that Kusuo could've easily dealt with without anyone noticing. If he was here, he could've dealt with the fuel truck, the tree, and the sodium fire. Aiura herself was almost dragged into those messes. She never liked seeing the death sign across her own face. Trying to keep accident-prone Chiyo and Chisato out of it was even harder.

Why did Aiura have to be the responsible Psychikers at school? Toritsuka had been here longer than her!

"Um, Aiura-san," came that overly soft angelic voice.

Great. Just great. Now her romantic rival was initiating conversation with her. What now? Did Teruhashi want to know if she marries Kusuo in the future? Or compete with Aiura and see who becomes Kusuo's mistress? Aiura wouldn't mind the one-man, two-women arrangement, but she was certain that Teruhashi would mind.

"Can you do a little fortune telling for me?" asked Teruhashi in her slightly trembling, help-me voice that worked on pretty much everyone. She was working that angle so hard that the crowd about her was on the verge of tears. They fawn over her, many promised right then and there that they'll sacrifice their entire year's worth of allowance to the temples to get a good fortune for her.

Aiura wanted to say no. This was Teruhashi, someone that gave Kusuo trouble and therefore, Aiura's enemy.

Plus, Aiura was not in the mood. The events of last night, a day of actually missing the weather forecast, and weird accidents at PK academy where she had to do something because that good-for-nothing pink-haired esper was absent was positively pissing her off.

Something about Teruhashi, though, needed placating. The goodness of her aura pulsated to overwhelm even the powerful fortune teller's aura.

"Fine. Whatever," puffed Aiura.

The two of them were able to get away from the student crowd between a break period. They went to the usual upper landing area before the personnel access to the roof. It was quiet and anyone coming could easily be heard. Teruhashi, being the perfect girl, would never suffer the indignity of having her fortune told in front of an audience.

"Could you check on Saiki-kun? See where he is? See if he's okay?" asked Teruhashi. She looked nervous.

Aiura gave her a look. Seriously? That's it? Was this chick playing her, mocking her for not being a damsel in distress because her man who happened to skip a day of school? Well, Aiura can play the same game. "What for?"

"I heard from the administration that he's at home sick," explained Teruhashi. Her lips were still trembling, even without an audience. Seriously, her acting was way too good. "He did not seem to be doing well yesterday so I want to make sure that he's okay."

Aiura nearly rolled her eyes. Kusuo was indestructible. Using her ocular gift just to see if a god is 'okay' was almost like an insult.

Still, the day had started oddly and since Kusuo was one of the few people who could defy Aiura's fortunes, she was curious herself. It probably would not hurt to do her romantic rival a favor, for a price.

"Four thousand yen," said Aiura, holding out a hand.

"You're going to charge me?" asked Teruhashi, aghast.

"You have two questions and a chick has to eat, ya know," said Aiura, lightly touching her breasts. "And these babies need maintenance."

Aiura almost laughed to see Teruhashi's magnificent white ball glowing aura diminish a tiny bit. That was one thing that the perfect pretty girl did not have over Aiura, an enviable womanly chest. It made Aiura feel just slightly better about the day overall.

Teruhashi stiffened, but pulled out one a small money purse and forked the money over. She didn't say anything. She looked very much to be on the verge of tears with worry.

The gesture made Aiura doubt herself. Did Teruhashi actually, truly cared for Kusuo? Did Teruhashi not see Kusuo as just another "offu" conquest? Or just another male classmate that she must demonstrate her absolute perfection for the world to see? Maybe Aiura misjudged Teruhashi.

Wordlessly, Aiura accepted payment and stared into her decorated crystal ball, summoning her clairvoyance. "He's at a hospital," Aiura began.

Teruhashi gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes liquidy.

"Calm down! I haven't seen everything," said Aiura. Geez. What's with people and their automatic assumption of the worst? "Ah. He's with his grandparents. It looks like he's just sitting in a chair, listening to some spiel about medication schedules. He's in street clothes." He was in track pants and a hoodie sweater, the kind that people wore when they wanted to be comfortable or slovenly. He also had on a baseball cap, as if trying to hide his eyes. It's odd since Kusuo typically took care to dress appropriately.

"So he's okay!" Teruhashi said, automatically brightened.

Aiura made a face. Upon closer inspection, Kusuo looked tired and haggard, like he hadn't eaten or slept in a while. The way he sat was also odd. Normally upright with good posture, he slouched in the chair and wrung his hands. Then, without warning, he looked straight at Aiura through the crystal ball. His voice flittered through Aiura's mind.

"Not now."

Damn freak of an esper. Of course Kusuo would know if someone was looking at him through clairvoyance.

"He's okay," Aiura made a final determination, looking away from her crystal ball. "It looks like one or both of his grandparents are having health trouble and he's at the hospital trying to sort it out with his mom. He's fine."

The final fortune made both young women concerned and relieved. Both of them had met Saiki's grandparents so there was a person in their minds to relate too. Still, it did confirm that the alleged "sickness" was probably simply more like the Saiki family taking time off to help resolve the health issue of the grandparents. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Teruhashi took a breather. Much of her earlier restlessness vanished. "Oh. I'm so glad. I'll just call his house a little later, asking how he is. Thank you for helping me out."

"Why are you so concerned for Kusuo?" Aiura finally had to ask, point-blank. "Aren't you way out of his league? Like, by a thousand times?"

Teruhashi was startled by such direct question, and a little miffed too. People, men, and women tend to be gentle and fawning over her every need due to how irresistibly perfect she was inside and outside. But this gyaru chick was being difficult for the sake of being difficult, praying on Teruhashi's inner torment and concern for Saiki. It was a challenge that Teruhashi was not going to back down from.

"He sits next to me and I want to know how he's doing," said Teruhashi. "Isn't Saiki-kun way out of your league by a thousand times?"

"Oh, I definitely know that," Aiura yielded quickly. She had seen the many of hair-raising things Kusuo could do, things that barely scratched the surface of Kusuo's psychic abilities. "Kusuo is totally amazing in every way. There is no one comparable to him. But you seemed to act like you have a chance, strangely enough."

It took a moment for Teruhashi to realize that Aiura was saying. That the most perfect pretty girl in the world was the one who was less than Kusuo, not the other way around.

"You....you're the second person to say that to me," said Teruhashi, looking slightly unsure of herself. Why was everything about Saiki-kun made her doubt her perfect self so often? He made her so confused and act so embarrassingly strange. Just being in his presence made her happy and his absence made her heart ache. "I...just...never mind. It's not worth it. Not with you. Thank you for your help Aiura-san. I won't bother you again."

Aiura looked at Teruhashi's retreating steps, feeling like she had won one against the world's most perfect girl. A rare victory indeed.

On a whim, Aiura indulged herself with another peek at Kusuo a little bit into the future. Surely he'll forgive such a small infraction.

Ah. It looks like he'll visit her at the fortune teller's house later. How exciting!

Aiura hugged her crystal ball with a wide smile. She would have to wear her most showy dress, most glittery lips goss and fabulous heels tonight. To think, Kusuo would be willingly come to visit her. The gods are definitely in her favor.

------------------------

For the expected occasion, Aiura decided on a bare shoulder wine-red evening gown with tasteful slits cut to reveal her supple thighs. She re-did her nails to be of the same color as her dress and picked her favorite cherry-flavored lip gloss. She paid close attention to her eyelashes and eye shadow. Her hair was curled perfectly. She put on a new hair clip and facial glitter. To complete the effect, she used a bittersweet perfume that mimicked the scent of a cafe.

Business was slower these days, now that she ranked 4th in the fortune teller house. She did not mind too much, since she still made enough money to buy the stuff she wanted and that it may get Kusuo to like her a little more. Kusuo never showed much expression in the first place, so it was hard to know if he even noticed.

The first couple of customers was as expected. Someone was about to give a presentation and wanted to know how that went and how he could improve. The second person wanted to know if Bitcoins would ever make a recovery.

There was a lull between the customers so Aiura took a moment to look outside the window.

It was still raining. Damn. How long was it going to rain? The humidity is going to be through the roof and make her hair frizzle.

The door clicked right on time. Aiura prepared her most winsome smile.

"Kusuo!" Aiura cheered, running over and hugging him. She made sure to press extra hard with her boobs, swung her thigh to brush between his legs. "I missed you at school today!"

Per expected, he stood there stiffly. His arms were loose about his side. He was still in those jogging slacks, sweatshirt hoddie, basketball cap, and sneakers. Come to think of it, his clothes were of an odd choice, considering that it was summertime. Rain or not. Wasn't he hot in it?

"Come, sit," said Aiura. She grabbed his hands and led him to the customer's chair and sat him down. "What brings you here? Another gang attack? You want to adjust the accuracy of my fortunes? You're going to vow eternal love to me and take me right here? "

"I need your prescience," said Kusuo, completely ignoring her other questions. He fished out a sheet of paper from the kangaroo pouch in his sweatshirt.

Aiura watched in amazement as a life-like portrait developed. Thoughtography. Another ability that Aiura never knew about. Honestly, how many abilities did Kusuo have?

"Can you find this man? " Kusuo asked, handing her the paper.

Aiura took the paper and studied it. The portrait was a man with shoulder-length blonde hair styled to cover his left eye, wearing a button-up lavender collared shirt and a lab coat. The lips were slightly smiling. The single visible hazel eye was tinged with intelligence that bordered on madness.

"Why are you asking me?" asked Aiura, waving the photo. "If you've seen this person before, then your clairvoyance can find him just fine."

"It's never been simple with this person," said Kusuo. " I can't find him with my clairvoyance. I was hoping that you can."

"What? Is he an archenemy or something?" joked Aiura. "You need to find him and go beat him up or something?"

" ...You could say that..."

There was it was again. That sense of uncertainty. In a way, that made Aiura slightly apprehensive. What would disturb such a powerful esper like Kusuo?

"Well, search no further as Mikoto-chan will provide you a foolproof fortune."

Aiura felt extremely pleased with her psychic abilities. She had become someone whom Kusuo could depend on. No doubt a plus in his books. She looked into her crystal ball as it glowed. Aiura was already happily imagining Kusuo's second-ever "thank you" to her.

The next fifteen minutes turned out to be one of the most frustrating times in Aiura life. She looked. She glared. She stared. She begged. She cursed. She demanded her power to show her something, anything.

Kusuo seemed to stare off into the distance, as if his mind was somewhere else completely.

Aiura kept on trying and trying and trying. Her crystal ball glowed and groaned. The images would be foggy, blurry even, as if straining against fate, but always ended with nothing. It was not even black or white. Just blank.

Aiura had seen this result only a three of times before, when she had to locate some shut-in's imaginary girlfriend, someone's long-dead great, great, great, great, great grand whatever and a woman whom Aiura later found out was cremated and remains scattered in the ocean.

Kusuo's attention eventually came back to the present. He was the one who broke the uncomfortable silence. " Well?"

"Are you testing me?" asked Aiura, irritated, looking up from her crystal ball. "This man is either a figment of the imagination, or a completely not-even-a-body-exists type of dead and gone."

Everything in the room that was glass sudden cracked and shattered. Aiura looked away quickly as her crystal ball suddenly cracked and fell into a mass of glass shards. She felt the wind and rain from the shattered window behind her blow in, causing a minor windstorm inside her fortune teller room.

For a split second, Kusuo looked angry, like towering fury type angry. His usual blank expression returned quickly enough, after a deep breath.

It was all over soon enough. With a negligent wave of Kusuo's hand, the window, the decorative paperweights, Aiura's crystal ball, were restored as if nothing happened. The only evidence of it was the raindrops that were now on the floors and walls from the outside and Aiura's now wind-swept hair.

Aiura let out a breath that she did not know she was holding. For that same split second there, her ocular vision showed a desolate world, humanity destroyed. It was frightening.

"Kusuo, what the hell was that!?" she demanded.

Kusuo shrugged. " I heard bad news and I reacted."

"What? I've failed your stinking little test?" Kusuo was such an overly demanding soulmate.

"No. Your prescience is just reliable as ever," Kusuo said.

"Then what is it? Why are you toying with me?" Aiura demanded. "You've been acting weird since last night, you missed school today and now you test me by asking me to find something you know doesn't exist"

Kusuo just stared at her with his blank face, looking way past her.

Suddenly, the stressfulness of the day got to Aiura. It was like she used up all her positivity reservoir and all that was left was the crud at the bottom.

"What the fuck, Kusuo? Why do you have to always act like an asshole? If this was a test, then say so. And next time, don't fucking miss school on the worst karmic day of the year. You're prescient too so I know you've seen what happened at school. Several people went to the nurse and hospital because of a bunch of freak accidents. I know you don't give a damn about helping people unless you help yourself in the process, but do you have to be so selfish!?"

There was a moment of silence between them. It was long enough that Aiura doubted her outburst.

Was it not her place to say those things?

Kusuo was a freakishly powerful esper. She did not doubt that he could kill people with a simple blink of an eye if he was annoyed He could do anything he wants, really, good and bad on a whim. Did she strike a cord? Tell him something he did not want to hear and reap his ire?

"You are right. I can do anything I want," said Kusuo, his telepathic voice sounded more hollow than before. "As a child, I estimated that it would take me about three days to destroy humanity. It's probably down to hours, maybe minutes by now."

Aiura shivered at the coldness of that voice.

"But all that power isn't not going to wake me up from this nightmare," continued Kusuo. He retrieved the photo. He stared at the portrait as he activated his pyrokinesis, the image burned up, slowly consuming the image.

"My temporal abilities will not change the conclusion," said Kusuo with a sigh, shaking his head. "I've been trying all day. I've seen it, and now you've confirmed it. He was never going to see his 20th birthday."

Kusuo watched the paper turned to dust as the flaming edge burned through the image, leaving only dust.

"This fact gulls me," Kusuo continued to say. "I can change humanity's fate at any time with a thought. Destroy the Earth, save it, at will." At this point, Kusuo look down. He lightly swept his eyes with his sleeved forearm and took a shuddering breath. "But this one life that mattered to my person, this one fate that I absolutely want to change, I am powerless. It makes me very angry."

He stood up.

The lighting hitting the young man's face differently, Aiura noticed that the paleness of that face, the heavy bag, and slight puffiness about the eyes. He looked somewhat thinner. His posture almost had a wounded animal quality to it.

Kusuo turned, walking toward the door.

"Thank you, Aiura-san," said Kusuo, his telepathic voice back to a flat monotone. "For trying to find him, and everything you did today at school. I am grateful."

With that, Kusuo disappeared, likely teleported home.

Aiura felt like a lightning bolt struck her. It was not that she received the second-ever "thank you" or the elusive words "grateful" out of Kusuo. She felt like the worse soulmate in the world. How did she miss the signs?

Kusuo was not angry, as he had stated. No Far from it. He was grieving.

Chapter Text

"Hey. Any of you guys know where Saiki is?" asked Kuboyasu.

The close guy friend group of Nendo, Kaido, and Kuboyasu gathered around the Saiki's empty desk chair during the break between the first and second period.

It had been about three school days since mid-terms. Saiki was absent for all three. This was day four.

In everyone's recollection, that had never happened. One day absence was common enough since people get do get sick. Three days, though. That was unusual.

Of course, there were those who would miss a week before anyone noticed. People like Toritsuka who mysteriously missed a week of school sometime back in Year 2 came to mind. Still, that was not unexpected. He came from a temple family and talked about how he can see spirits. The religious types were a little funny when it came to education.

"I heard from Yumehara that his grandparents are having health trouble," said Kaido. Out of the group of four close guy friends, Kaido seemed to know most of the rumors around the school. It had something to do with his semi-not-so girlfriend of his who was always hanging around him. "I've heard that they live far out in the boonies, so he's out for a while."

"That's too bad," said Kuboyasu, already thinking about the one activity that three of the four friends usually did with the fourth; copying homework. "I guess we'll have to do that next assignment on our own."

"What, partner is sick?" noted Nendo, who had just begun to catch up on the conversation.

"No, you idiot. His grandparents are sick," explained Kaido. Seriously. Does Nendo ever keep up?

"What does that have to do with partner? Don't his mom and dad handle stuff like that?" Nendo followed up.

Kuboyasu and Kaido looked at each other. In the education obsessed society that they lived in, it was usual for people to miss out on school due to something that their parents would've taken care of. People like Mera who had to work and provide for younger siblings aside, it did seem that Saiki came from a normal, average family.

The class idiot did see things really clearly.

"You're right," said Kaido, his imagination now running wild. "Why did Saiki had to go with his parents though? When normally he would've still come to school while his mom and dad handle the details? Maybe the situation is worse then we imagined? I mean, it's possible that his grandparents are on their death beds. Do we really know?"

"Now you're just making up stuff," said Nendo. "Partner would tell us if something is going on."

Kaido and Kuboyasu looked at each other. Would Saiki tell them if something was going on?

If there was ever anything going on, that is.

Saiki's life was boringly normal, so normal that no one noticed that he was there. He almost never initiated conversation. He did not have any hobbies outside of reading, manga being his choice of literature. He didn't play popular video games. He was part of the occult club but he rarely went. He liked sweets and coffee but who doesn't like those things? He came to school daily, did his homework, participated in the activities as required. He was average at sports.

The only thing that was out of the norm was that Saiki's parents were very nice, actually seemed to still love each other, and had no words of criticism for their son's educational attainment.

Simply put, there was never anything going on in Saiki's life. He lived in peaceful, dull life of a normal high school student being average in everything. Since he was so uninteresting that he became somewhat of an outcast at school.

Nendo, Kaido, and Kuboyasu were outcasts too. Generally thought of poorly by their peers for being an idiot, a chunni kid, and a feared delinquent, the three guy friends were drawn to Saiki who seemed like their anchor to honest goodness. Oh, they were others in their close friend group, namely Hairo and Teruhashi. Yumehara, Mera, and occasionally Saiko, were also part of the friend group, though to a much lesser extent. Those others aside, the four boys hung out the most.

So as Saiki's friends, they felt the need to make his boring life a little more exciting. It was one of the many reasons that they automatically included him in ramen trips, arcade visits, beach day, homework copying sessions, building secret hideouts in the woods, and even the movies. By now, Saiki was part of their crew, an undisputed brother-at-arms, and they would stick together through thick and thin. They were going to be there for him, no matter what.

"Anyone called his house recently?" asked Kuboyasu.

"Yeah. But no one picked up," said Kaido. "And when the hell is he going to get a cell phone? He's got to be the only one in school without one."

In the middle of their conversation, the sliding door to the classroom was yanked open. One of the kids in their class announced. "Hey! They just posted the midterm scores!"

Nearly half of the class rushed out of the room, anxious and excited. They were seniors, a time where the academic scores determine the number of opportunities that would be open to them at the next stage of life. The public display of scores on large plaques was a method to spur competition among the students and segregate out the promising from the dross.

Kaido and Kuboyasu moved to see the midterm scores along with everyone else. Nendo followed his friends.

The location of Third Year Class 1 meant that the lowest score, and the person who did the worst, the 180th place was the first to be seen.

Nendo stopped first as he spotted his name. He looked at his ranking with clear puzzlement on his face. "I got 162th place...but this means good, right?" said Nendo to himself. "The higher the score, the better!"

At that, Kuboyasu shook his head and said, "No no. You're in the last 18th place."

"But isn't the higher test score the better?" Nendo continued to reason.

"That's your ranking, dumbass!" said Kaido, continuing the explanation for their poor friend. "You scored 18th lowest out of 3rd year."

"So you're saying that this is like golf? The lower score the better?"

For the next couple of minutes, both Kuboyasu and Kaido tried, without success, to explain to Nendo the difference between score and placement ranking.

"Oh no, moment of truth," said Yumehara as she approached the display plaques with fear.

Sure enough, Yumehara felt her legs soften as she nearly fell. "145th place!" she wailed. "My mother is going to disown me!"

Teruhashi, who was with her, was there to prevent her fall. "That's okay, Chiyo-chan, you did better than 35 other people! You'll make it back up in no time. I know! Now you have an excuse to spend more time with your crush to study"

All around Teruhashi, men caught the utmost kind gesture from the PK Academy goddess to a female friend and many were moved to tears.

"Wow, busty got 130th place," remarked one of the classmates about Mera. "I bet she never had a chance to study."

Kuboyasu continued down the hall, having given up on trying to explain the ranking details to Nendo, went looking for his name. He found it, evenly at 116th place. It wasn't the absolute middle of the pack of the 180 students in the third year, but it was still pretty decent. As a student who had avoided studying most of his life and still somehow advanced through school, Kuboyasu had no doubt that the score would be pleasing to his honest working parents who valued hard work and the straight and narrow life.

"Feast your eyes on your superiors, peasants!" declared Saiko, looking mighty proud of himself. He scored a solid 55th place, within the upper range of the second quartile. Not bad for someone who barely came to school and missed enough days to be expelled. Life was hard for a rich boy who had to oversee so many adult money matters that these peasant knowledge was simply beneath him to study for.

Kaido clenched his fist and did a couple of fist pumps in victory when he saw his ranking.

"Wow! Great job Kaido!" declared Kuboyasu. "25th place. Impressive!"

"Oh, it's nothing," said Kaido with barely disguised false modesty. Inwardly, he was excited for the bump in ranking and the promised increased allowance. Even more ramen trips and card games were in his future. "I barely studied, you know. If only I had not prevented Dark Reunion's evil take over last week, I would've made first place!"

Kaido's declaration was completely overshadowed by the crowd that had formed around the top 14 places.

"Offu! Our goddess made 14th place!" gasped a crowd of at least a dozen students. A cloud of sparkles, and red and pink hearts fell over Teruhashi's very public score.

"She's still just perfect."

"14th place is the new 1st place!"

"I'm in love with the number 14. It's like getting her Valentine chocolate all over again."

Teruhashi blushed prettily, looking embarrassed at her adoring crowd. "Oh. You all stop it. I just want to do well, that's all."

Another "offu" bomb went off as the crow of boys' heart nearly exploded from witnessing such a perfect girl.

The trio of guy friends, minus their 4th, observed this and made a deliberate move away from the adoring crowd, least they get sucked into it. Teruhashi was simply out of reach. And since Teruhashi was in their inner circle of friends, they knew that Teruhashi already liked someone and was, therefore, even more unattainable.

"Hey, anyone see how Saiki did?" asked Kaido. Competition was still a thing among the four brothers-at-arms. "I thought he would be next to you, Aren."

Kuboyasu picked up on that. He looked thoughtful. "Yeah. I thought he would do right about 90th place but I don't see his name."

The three walked back through the ranking board, looking for their friend's name. They started around the middle. Some kid, Satou Hiroshi, was smack dead in 90th place. So they look to the slightly lower and higher rankings around 90th place. No luck.

So they started back at the 180th place, trying to look for Saiki's name.

"What's with this?" commented Kuboyasu as he carefully reviewed the names. He had not seen Saiki's name yet. "Did the school lose Saiki's test papers?"

"I'm not seeing his name either," muttered Kaido. He started from the higher scores and met Kuboyaus in the middle.

Nendo followed Kuboyasu, but reading was not his strong suit.

"You got to be kidding me!" someone yelled from the front of the ranking board.

Nendo, Kaido, and Kuboyasu shuffled toward the voice. They went to the ranking list in the first 10 places of class.

"What's going on here?" remarked Kaido.

The commotion came from Tanihara Kenji, the class representative for 3rd year, Class 2. For the past couple of years, he had always aced the exams and made first place. He looked like he was about to faint, seeing that he managed 3rd place.

"This...this had to be a mistake!" cried Tanihara. "They must've cheated! That transfer student and that four eyes must've cheated! Iguchi-sensei! What's the meaning of this?!"

Iguchi-sensei, who was checking out the ranking board for accuracy responded to Tanihara. "I doubt it, Tanihara-kun. This result is in line with Akechi-kun's historical academic scores. As for Saiki-kun, we thought so in the first place so we had his answers vetted by professors at University of Tokyo. They were so impressed that they wondered why he isn't in a doctorate program."

Curious, Kadio, Kuboyasu, and Nendo took a look at front of the test ranking board. The first ten places were rarely of interest because they were often the people who had no life and studied all the time. Hairo was probably the only exception.

Once the trio saw the name, two out of three jaws nearly dropped to the ground.

The person who ranked first place in midterm exam was Saiki Kusuo.

Below Saiki Kusuo's name was the actual numerical score. Full 900 points. The next guy was 185 points below and it was that annoying transfer student, Akechi Touma.

In third place was Tanihara Kenji, who still looked like he was about to have a meltdown. He was only five points away from Akechi.

Saiki completely blew everyone out of the water. It was not even a contest.

"First place?" muttered Kaido, looking like a shadow passed over him. It made no sense. He had never seen Saiki do anything that remotely resembled studying, outside of doing his homework on time.

"Oh. Aibou did better than me. Oh well, I'll get him next time," said Nendo.

A bunch of people sweatdropped. That's right. Nendo had actually ranked higher than Saiki before. Plus, Nendo had no concept of the difficulty to rank No. 1.

"Oh wow," said Hairo who happened to walk by. "Look at that. I never thought Saiki-kun would score number one. I'm surprised but that's great!"

Akechi, who was standing around in front of his name plaque, looking puzzled. He seemed neither pleased nor upset at the score at his score. He did look at Saiki's score with approving nod.

"Hey Akechi-kun," started Kuboyasu, "Look at you. You're number two. But I didn't think Saiki could make number one. That's so unexpected."

Akechi gave one of his soul-sucking looks. "Why is that unexpected? Doesn't Kusuo-kun always make number one? He's actually really smart. Why, when he was in elementary school, he was good at sports and always made first place in our grade. None of us noticed and I think it's because we're in elementary school and the school doesn't publically display the grades. Now that I think about it, no one asked him about his grades because he barely talked. I was so surprised when I saw his scores for the finals last year since there was no way he's just average. This result here is more like him. And I talked to him about it. In fact, this is the most I've ever seen him talk is now. How many words do you think he says in a day? Do you think he says more than 100 words a day? 500 words-"

Kuboyasu was on non-sequitur information overload, "Akechi. You got to shut up. I can't even follow what you're saying."

Kaido, one of the smarter ones, actually followed. "Wait. What do you mean by number one? And Akechi, if you say more than one sentence at a time, you'll feel the wrath of the Jet Black Wings!"

"And in short sentences!" added Kuboyasu, grabbing Akechi by the collar in a classic bully threatening posture.

Akechi looked like he had a plastic bag over his head and was about to suffocate from the rule. "Kusuo is academically very smart."

The two young men who were listening, and one who was just along for the ride, looked at Akechi like he was a sudden treasure trove of pay dirt.

"Please elaborate. What was he like, academically in elementary school? You're allowed two sentences this time," said Kaido.

Akechi looked pained, as if trying to cram his thoughts into two succinct sentences was going to break him. "Kusuo had always finished the exams first. He had always made first place."

"Okay. Now. Three sentences. What else can you tell us?"

"He likes to read. He likes watching TV. He's a routine fiend."

"Academically!" this time, it was Kuboyasu who tried to steer the conversation.

Akechi was about to open his mouth when the bell rang, signaling the start of the next class.

Forced by the school schedule, the mini interrogation of the annoying genius was over. There would be plenty of time to get Akechi to talk during lunch.

Chapter Text

Generally, at school, Aiura and Toritsuka avoided each other, Saiki, and Saiki's 'normal' friends. Their boss, Saiki, had said, with no minced words, that he disliked attention, especially at school, and the consequences of them disturbing his singled-minded goal could be dire. If either one of them wanted something, they can just repeat in their heads and if Saiki deemed the "something" worthy of note, he would respond to them.

For the two PK Academy Psychikers, not counting Akechi, who was more of an honorary Psychiker, the avoidance of each other was not a difficult request.

Aiura had her band of worshippers and grateful people who found her sexy and reliable. While she was no match for Teruhashi or the Rifuta in Year 2, she was attainable. Her words of advice were trusted. Her best friend was Chiyo, who cheered Aiura on nonstop about getting together with her soulmate. Outside of Aiura's usual pestering of Saiki from time to time outside of school through her specialized skills and 'accidentally' bumping into him, Aiura had plenty to keep her from getting bored.

Toritsuka was, in one word, perverted. His habits were certainly in violation of whatever purity vows he had made long ago. He preoccupied his time with skirt-chasing, Kokomins activities, rare occult club activities, and dealing in x-rated magazines. Since the start of the third year, though, he had matured a bit. He became a little more responsible and kept his skirt-chasing to more like an 8-hour a day addiction instead of a day-long obsession. He still indulged in temple mischief, self-benefiting possessions, but kept the consequences of those activities to himself.

However, Saiki had been absent for three, going on four days now. The two PK Academy Psychikers had to meet to discuss the methods to deal with the poor karma that seemed to be plaguing the school.

The first day of absence, Tuesday, was probably the worst. That day, Aiura dealt with some of the more difficult ramifications. No one died, but many people got wet, uncomfortable, experienced romantic and pet heartbreak, went to the nurse's office, and a couple of rare hospital visits.

The second and third days were much better.

For one, the number of disasters seemed to have reduced to only a fraction of day number one.

Secondly, Aiura and Toritsuka prepared.

Aiura took the time to read the fortunes before school started. She ordered Toritsuka, on the threat of burning his porno collection, to channel the appropriate spirits to deal with disaster while she took her share of the problems.

A wet spot that wasn't mopped up and would've caused a chain reaction of a cracked jaw and broken elbow? Aiura took extra time with cleaning duties and got scolded for getting to class late.

Luggage falling from an airplane? They stole gym mats, cones, and caution tape and placed them at the landing site on the school track.

A bomb left at the school door? An experienced police bomb squad tech spirit possession for which Toritsuka almost pissed his pants.

Both espers made a point to bump fists with Satou in between class, due to the superstition that Satou's near ESP level of average everything canceled out whatever deliberate danger and misfortune they were putting themselves in. This may sound easy, until they've considered that Suzumiya was Satou's girlfriend. So far, though, both espers managed to avoid the girlfriend and the tactic seemed to work as neither of them had gotten hurt.

At the moment, Aiura and Toritsuka took some time to cut the third and fourth periods to take a breather on the rooftop. Earlier, they had to be plumbers and prevent a nasty sewer backup this morning. Without their efforts, all those excited students at the exam ranking board would've been wading through ankle-deep pool of urine, muck, and poop.

They sat underneath the roof access door awning, looking at the overcast sky that threatened rain.

It had been raining for the past three days, going on four. Not too usual, considering the valley terrain and the summer weather patterns. It was only unusual to Aiura whose previously fail-safe weather forecast, including this morning, had proven false.

She was beginning to think that someone was deliberately screwing around with the weather and she had a good idea who.

"Man, this is the pits, Tits McGee," groused Toritsuka to Aiura. He had been slapping himself on the cheeks, trying to keep the spirits organized and not end up possessing him. "When is Saiki-san going to come back? I don't think I can take any more of this."

Aiura kept on watching the sky, seriously thinking about the Toritsuka's question and Kusuo's words a couple of nights back. She was still processing what she had seen, the unnatural fear she had felt. She had witnessed Kusuo distraught, something she thought was not possible for the overly powerful esper.

And over what? Some nameless blonde?

Aiura still had not figured out who the blonde was. Even with her fortune-telling abilities, her internet savviness, the results were blank. Granted, she had seen the portrait for only a few minutes, before Kusuo burned it. Still, this failure of her prescience to just find a person really bugged her.

Aiura could ask Toritsuka if he knew more, except that Aiura did not want to tell Toritsuka of Kusuo's visit to her fortune teller house, at least not until she figured out what was going on. Kusuo was touchy about his personal life, and Aiura had to go through the difficult trial of earning his trust by keeping her mouth shut about things that he divulged to her, as imperfect as she was at it at times. Her attempt to maintain that trust was the reason why Aiura had yet to ingratiate herself to his parents. She wanted Kusuo to like her, not tolerate her like he tolerated his 'normal' friends.

"What? Our chicken shit spirit medium PK Psychiker already calling it quits?" teased Aiura, deciding that was the appropriate response to Toritsuka's complaint. She had to get him back on the name-calling.

"Well, yes! I am about to, you leather-skinned bimbo. All of this would be so easy for Saiki-san to fix," said Toritsuka, adding his own insults back at her. "He needs to shape up and come back to school. This is so damn death-defying that I'm not even pissed about midterms anymore."

"Oh yeah? How did you do on midterms? I made 157th place."

"Well, I got 163th place!" said Toritsuka. "I'm dumber than Nendo!"

"So what? It's an improvement. Didn't you rank in the 170s before, perverted scum?" asked Aiura with a light tease. "It's not like either one of us wants to or needs to attend college. I'm planning on working my fortune telling gig until the day I die so I don't care how I do."

"Speak for yourself, you brainless broad," groused Toritsuka. "Do you know how many chicks will refuse to talk to me because now I'm certified-dumber-than Nendo?"

"You have always been certified-dumber-than Nendo," said Aiura. "Penis aura."

"Hey! I resent that!" complained Toritsuka, then added, "Gyaru floozy."

"Never mind that, you pit-stain germ. Did you see Kusuo's score?" asked Aiura. She still recalled the odd, begrudging feeling when she saw his ranking. Was he not already so perfect that he had to also showed up everyone else? "I know that he expects to go to college and all. I just didn't think Kusuo would cheat though."

"Cheat?" Toritsuka made face at that comment. It caught him off guard. "What do you mean by cheat?"

"He made first place, you nitwit," said Aiura as she rolled her eyes. "I know he's telepathic and can read the teacher's thoughts so it would be easy to cheat. I just never thought he would actually do it, you know, him being all righteous about not using his ESP for such obvious personal gain like that."

Toritsuka scrunched his nose and thought about that. "Oh, I really doubt that. I going to guess that this is the result of him not cheating."

"What? He was cheating before?" asked Aiura. The possibility never occurred to her.

"Well. Of course. Saiki-san's life revolves around trying to look normal," said Toritsuka. "He's so all around overpowered that the challenge for him is to appear average. Why do you think he has such a weird obsession with Satou? Saiki-san didn't seem to be doing too hot that day so I'm guessing that making 1st place is his natural default."

Aiura took that logic in and frowned. Kusuo did give off the brainy impression, she never got the hint that he was a super smart or anything. "Just what makes you think that?"

"Well, look at him when he was without psychic powers a while back when we got assigned writing a report on a G7 country. He managed to turn in that thick report on Canada, handwritten, in one night, on a team of two people, and got the only full homework grade in our year. Sure, he had Teruhashi on his team and she's pretty smart, but Yuemahara said that Saiki did most of the work while Teruhashi watched him. I'm sure that barely scratched the surface of what he can do."

Aiura recalled that assignment and the circumstances surrounding it. Kusuo did get his psychic powers erased around the beginning of third year. How that was possible and why, Kusuo didn't say. Aiura only noticed because Kusuo's aura changed from canceling out everyone's aura, to an aura so bright that he became this overly bright pinkish-white thing that moved around school.

Then one day, after that freakish broadcast of an end-of-life-as-we-know-it-meteor and its miraculous dispersion into the Pacific Ocean, Kusuo came back to school wearing those green-tinted glasses of his again. He did stop wearing those power limiting hairpins though, at least from what Aiura could tell. It made him look a little more normal, and more handsome in her eyes. As usual, he never said anything about the details.

"But that's just crazy," said Aiura. "You're saying that outside of his psychic abilities that he's actually a genius?"

"Pretty much. I used to think he is just a self-righteous surly dude with more useful and powerful ESP than me. But after meeting his older brother and seeing how they interacted, I wouldn't be surprised if Saiki-san is peculiar in the head too."

Aiura stared at Toritsuka blankly, then her eyes widen, fascination stars in her eyes. "Older brother...?" she repeated. "He has an older brother?"

"Oh. Crap," said Toritsuka, his eyes widen in realization of what he just said, "I'm not supposed to say that." Toritsuka began to beat his fist against his skull. "Damn it! Those two are telepathic. They'd known I've flubbed the moment they talk to me or you. Ug. Kill me now. I want to live the life of a ghost where only the nicer one can threaten me."

Aiura was not going to let this go. She had so many questions. A wide smile was on her lips as her positive imagination ran wild. "What's his name? What's he like? Is he like Kusuo? Is he an esper too? Oh my god! How come I'm just learning about this now?"

Aiura imagined what Kusuo's older brother would look like. Probably someone with similar magenta-pink hair and none of Kusuo's gloominess. She dreamed of herself between them, Kusuo calling her "sweetheart" and her brother-in-law calling her "little sister." Further into her fantasy was Christmas and New Years at the Saiki family, happily having the Christmas cake with her inlaws then later hitting the rave scene with the hip Saiki Grandmother, Kumi. Maybe Aiura can get her mother-in-law to join too.

Toritsuka seemed to understand what was going on in Aiura's head, judging by the dreamy look on Aiura's face and all the sudden fog of sparkles around her face. He held up both of his hands and shook them for emphasis. "Look. They are not what you think. There's a reason why Saiki-san doesn't talk about him. I mean, Saiki-san even refused to tell me his older brother's name, saying that it's not his place. All I got was a "Ku-" something from when I first met him and I spent a week with him. It's been almost a year now and I still don't know his name."

Aiura was completely not hearing the warning tone in Toritsuka's voice. She was still in her dreamland, now thinking of how she could get this mysterious brother to get Kusuo out of the current depressive rut. "Is he is anything like Kusuo? Tell me, I must know!"

Toritsuka shook his head. "That's the exact problem. He is a lot like Saiki-san in that they are both on a completely different level of messed up."

Aiura made a face at that description. Trust Toritsuka to be dramatic. "Yeah right."

Toritsuka did not look like he was kidding. In fact, he looked like he believed those words.

"How are they mess up?" Aiura pressed.

At that prodding, Toritsuka shook his head. "I've already said too much. I don't want both of them to be mad at me. You know what Saiki-san can do. Now imagine someone else who is just as capable, but have none of Saiki-san's scruples. I might be stupider than Nendo but even I'm not stupid enough to piss off both of them."

"So you're just saying that you're already dead meat. You might as well spill the beans." Aiura reasoned. "How about this. I'll 'fess up to the boss with you. You know he likes me and won't make a spirit out of me."

"But that doesn't mean he won't make a spirit out of me!"

"It'll be fine, Reita-toto," said Aiura with a wheedling voice. "We PK Academy Psychikers need to stick together. And in order to do that, we need to know about the boss's older brother. You know, to help the boss out."

Toritsuka seemed to consider it. "Well..you're not wrong about his older brother being able to help him..." Then Toritsuka vigorously shook his head. "But no. Absolutely not. Saiki-san is going to be mad if he knew we went to his older brother without his knowledge. And that's not counting what his older brother might do to us!"

"Reita, Kusuo has been absent for three days, going on four," reminded Aiura purposefully. To be honest, she was getting concerned. "House calls are not answered. When Chiyopipi delivered his homework, she said no one was home. His mom is ALWAYS home. The last time I saw him, he was...distracted, like something very serious had happened, something even he can't handle. Maybe if we all get together, we can fix whatever was bothering Kusuo."

For a straight minute, Toritsuka and Aiura stared at each other intently, almost like one of those overly long power stares between to the hero and villain in a movie, with a tedious convoluted hero monologue dissecting the merits of a reveal.

"Okay. Fine," Tortisuka relented. "If you think it will help Saiki-san out. But I'm using you as a body shield if this goes south."

Aiura only smiled merrily, finally getting her way. "Yeah yeah. Whatever. Now, spill! What's Kusuo's older brother like?"

Toritsuka thought about the things he witnessed, trying to put it into words. He had not thought about the older brother in some time. It was like there was a mental block there. That mental block seemed to have receded, somewhat, probably due to time.

"He is actually a lot like Saiki-san," Toritsuka began. "You know how Saiki-san appears normal, like how he completely blends into the background like air. But something is just off. Like, Saiki-san is really striking looking when you think about it, and you're just inexplicably drawn to him. When you're close to him, he gives off that vibe where the hair on the back of your neck stands up and you can't quite tell why. Then you see what he's capable of, and how straight forward he is, and you're just awestruck."

"Saiki-san older brother is like that in that he appears pretty normal. His looks are striking, in a different way from Saiki-san, and he has this natural magnetism about him. He is very personable, makes you put your guard down, makes you feel so great about yourself, tells you more about yourself than you know. He is so charming that you forget to ask why would someone like him would be interested in you and you just do what he told you, even if it sounds insane. Then something in the back of your mind just screams, but you just can't stop doing what he wants you to do. You see his capabilities, how none of it makes sense, and you're just afraid."

Aiura took that all in, stared at Toritsuka seriously, and scoffed. "Great. Sounds like you almost fell in love with a sociopath."

Toritsuka looked like a light bulb went off. "That's right! A sociopath. That's the perfect word to describe him."

Aiura almost rolled her eyes. Trust Toritsuka to be so easily manipulated. "So what? You just told me that this older brother is just a socially well adjusted Kusuo who took the effort to woo you into doing his bidding. How's that result any different than Kusuo's usual method of just telling people what to do to their faces? Or you with one of your pickup-artist ghosts?" Aiura asked with a huff. "This is like the worst secret reveal ever. It's totally not worth me being a meat shield for you."

"I'm getting to it!" said Toritsuka. "I'm getting to the messed up part. Remember sometime back in 2nd year that I was absent for a week?"

"Dude, you skip class so often that people stopped keeping track," noted Aiura. "We just guessed that you got caught with a sex doll at the temple and they forced you into another absolution session."

"But not for a week straight! Even that's excessive!"

Aiura waved a hand. "So what? Let me guess what else his older brother did. He took you to a cafe and you two guys had a date."

"Well, that did happen...."

"I'm going back to class," said Aiura, completely losing interest. She leaned forward, already trying to get up.

"Aiura, Saiki-san's older brother tricked me, brainwashed me, taught me how to possess another person all in the grand scheme of getting Saiki-san to fight him to the death over getting a hairpin out of Saiki-san's head," said Toritsuka.

At that, Aiura sat right back now. She nearly glared at Toritsuka, as if daring him to take those words back. When she saw that he was not kidding, she relented. "Do go on."

Toritsuka was silent for a while, trying to think about which part of his interaction with the Saiki brothers he should leave out since his participation in it was less than honorable. He had never told anyone else about that incident, partially out of gratitude to Saiki-san's friendship and forgiveness, partially out of that nagging fear of the older brother.

"They had some sort of competition going on," said Toritsuka. "Where his older brother booby-trapped the hairpin on the right side of Saiki-san's head so that it's his older brother's win if it was removed. But doing so also means making the whole world know Saiki-san's psychic powers. His older brother was deadset on removing that hairpin to win as part of that competition. I figured into all of this because I was supposed to break Saiki-san's left hairpin. I didn't think it would be a problem since it just means that Saiki-san is naturally more powerful."

Aiura was shocked. "But he is the older brother! Why would he threaten to reveal Kusuo's secret? And you know what that left hairpin does! Why did you break it?!"

"I've told you. His older brother can get to people to do what he wants them to do. He wanted it broken and I did it! As to revealing Kusuo's secret, there was some sort of stupid explanation about Saiki-san being special, and having the world know of his existence would reduce crime and poverty thing," said Toritsuka. "It made no sense to me, but apparently it made sense to Saiki-san. He ended up removing the right hairpin himself, calling the match a draw."

"Wait, if it's removed, then why..."

"It turns out that his older brother had disabled the trap a long time ago. Like this whole thing was just a competition between the two."

"That makes absolutely no sense!" Aiura yelled.

"It made sense to them!" Toritsuka swallowed as he recalled the fight between the brothers. "You would get it if you were there. Because if you were, you would know why Saiki-san is so different from us even as an esper, why he is so guarded around us.

"The way he interacted with his older brother was just reckless. They were actively trying to kill each other over this competition. It's like they got a thrill from risking their lives," Toritsuka shook his head. It was like a dam broke in him, having to no one to tell these events to all these months. It was a relief to share a secret. "And it's not like a you're-annoyed-with-me type of 'killing-each-other.' Like, Saiki-san actually tried to petrify his older brother and smash him, without his wearing his limiter."

Aiura was not certain of what she was hearing. "Kusuo would never intentionally petrify people! Just look at the length of trouble he went through when he accidentally petrified Nendo and Kaido!"

Toritsuka continued to talk. "My point exactly. For his older brother, Saiki-san went straight to petrification. And you know how strong Saiki-san is physically. He finger flicked his older brother, without his limiter. Saiki-san is already very strong so he's always been careful because he knows he can accidentally kill people. With his older brother, it's like Saiki-san's restraints were off, and he actually deliberately hurt and threatened his older brother.

"What's even more freaky was that his older brother blocked the petrification and survived the smashing. His older brother had some sort of energy weapon that just easily shoot a beam clean through a meter thick wall and whatever trees or mountains within a kilometer radius and gave Saiki-san's red welts so Saiki-san had to teleport to dodge it. His older brother was laughing while trying to shoot Saiki-san down like some kid with a blaster toy. He even made Saiki-san bleed. And if Saiki-san wanted to be even more physical, his older brother said that he would hold the world hostage if needed, like his brother didn't care if he died in the process either.

"Their fight was just madness. What's worse, was that, at the end, Saiki-san told him that he'll "stay as his playmate," like they were just having a kindergarten schoolyard scuffle to see who won. It really was just two of them trying to win some sort of a game.

"Don't you see the messed-up part here? That's Saiki-san's 'normal.' When he's not held back, he can easily destroy things and people, and he only does this with his older brother who is just as ruthless," Toritsuka shivered, despite it being almost summer. "It's like watching two gods smack on each other for fun then make up. I can't imagine what it was like for them, growing up together. It must've been twisted."

Aiura was not sure how to respond to Toritsuka. She had never heard him talk so much without a mention of a female body part or some schemes to get rich.

Maybe that was why Toritsuka had wised up somewhat. That experience must've, at some level, traumatized and humbled him.

In a way, Aiura felt a little hurt to hear Toritsuka's story. Was she not good enough of a friend to both of them for them to divulge such significant detail to her?

At some point, the bell rang, signaling the end of fourth period. Both Psychikers were so absorbed that they ignored it.

"So you're saying that there's no way in hell that we should pester Kusuo's older brother for help?" Aiura concluded.

That seemed to surprised Toritsuka. "Just what makes you think that?"

"You just told me that they tried to kill each other," said Aiura. "I think that's a hint."

Toritsuka shook his head. "No. On the contrary, he's the best person who can help Saiki-san if he's in trouble."

Aiura made a face. "How so? They sound more like enemies to me."

"Well, how did you think Saiki-san had his powers erased for a while? It's because his older brother created a device that did that. I'm pretty sure it was also his older brother who created those hairpins in the first place. You know that they limit his ESP to the point that Saiki-san can be normal and attend school."

The detail was another shock. Aiura never thought too much in-depth about Kusuo's hairpins. She knew that they limited his power. She never thought about who made them. She had automatically assumed that Kusuo created them because of how amazing and responsible he was with his psychic powers.

The idea that someone else who could've created them never crossed her mind.

"Think about it," Toritsuka continued. "His older brother is someone who defeated Saiki-san's god-like level of ESP, even if it's not permanent. Like, how you saw Saiki-san made those clones of his, teleport to anywhere he wanted, always knowing what you're thinking, and suppressed a volcano that can destroy Japan. I'm sure that the meteor from the beginning of the term was also Saiki-san's doing. All of that power to do all of that, erased, briefly, because of one of his brother's devices. It was a gift, really, since that was ultimately what Saiki-san wanted, was to be normal like us.

"Having seen all of that, it isn't surprising to me why Saiki-san doesn't talk about his older brother because of percisely how different they both are from the rest of us."

Aiura considered Toritsuka's words. There was something she was missing here. "So, wait, are you telling me that he an esper too?" asked Aiura. "More powerful than Kusuo?"

At that Toritsuka looked confused, as if he never considered the question before. "I'm...not sure." He seemed to have surprised even himself.

"Wait. How can you not be sure? Didn't you say you spent a week with him?"

"I did. And that's why he's so goddamn freaking scary, it's almost like you can't ever know anything for certain with him. It's never simple."

Aiura frowned. Why did it seem like she had heard about this person before?

"He told me that he's an esper who can read minds, but then he said that he was joking. I couldn't tell if he's just a really good guesser or he really can read minds. Then there's just a bunch of little stuff that can't be explained. At some point in their fight, he was able to fix Saiki-san's broken limiter in seconds. He had devices that prevent telepathy and robots that mimic people. I mean, if he's Saiki-san older brother, you'd think that he'd have sort of overpowered ESP too, but he never displayed any outward ESP like Saiki-san. Everything he did can be explained by science or his machines, but what he did was so amazing that I can't be sure. The more I think about the things he did, the more he makes my skin crawl.

"That makes no sense," said Aiura, echoing her earlier sentiment.

"You're telling me! Imagine how I felt when I was in the middle of it! I'm only so lucky that Saiki-san protected me when they were trying to blast each other into pieces. I get the sense that his older brother would squash people just for fun. And you know how Saiki-san never bothers to explain anything. Guess who has that disgusting habit, too? Yes. His older brother, who is much worse, if that's even possible. I mean, I didn't even learn that they're brothers until the very end, and it's not because they told me. It's because Saiki-san was referred to as a younger brother and he didn't deny it."

At that conclusion of that sentence, the personnel door to the rooftop opened.

It was Akechi.

The midterm second-ranked student looked behind him furtively before shuting the door. His black gaze quickly settling on the two espers.

Aiura and Toritsuka immediately wanted to go back to class.

"Ah. There you are, fellow PK Academy Psychikers. I am so glad to find you two here, though it's not unexpected. The probability of you two being here to hide from your inevitable public humiliation of your terrible midterm ranking was high. The society's obsession with education is truly a shame, since testing does not directly correlate with working success. I am also certain that you two are consorting because of Kusuo-kun's absence has caused certain unfortunate heartaches at school. I did notice you two running around, hitting different supply closets. Has this perchance to do with..." Akechi kept on talking, oblivious to the pair of eyes glazing over at his words.

"Do you want to stop him?" Aiura bit off the side to Toritsuka as Akechi kept on talking in the usual matter of many words. It sounded like Akechi noticed what the two espers had been doing to combat the bad karma at school, but was trying to author a verbal novel.

"You can stop him first," whispered Toritsuka back.

"I guess that you considered me 'normal' so that you haven't included me in your school protection schemes," said Akechi, as if he had not heard the commentary about his wordiness. "This happened back in elementary school too. On the days that Kusuo didn't show up, there's seemed to be more disasters around school.

"Anyways, I am here to hide from Kaido and Kuboyasu. It seemed that I've let slipped something that Kusuo would likely want to be kept quiet. I hope you'll let me stay here, and protect me while I avoid them. It is lunchtime and they're waiting to ambush me in the cafeteria. I'm not all that hungry so I don't mind just hiding here, but at some point, I will want to get something to eat. I'll just have to do so without meeting those two since they will want to ask about Kusuo's exam-taking skills. I'm going to guess that they both want to know Kusuo's study secrets. They're going to be very disappointed to know that Kusuo didn't study late into the night."

Aiura and Toritsuka blinked at least three times, trying to catch up with Akechi's thought pattern. "What?" both of them repeated.

Akechi smiled widely, his eyes turned black without the iris. "I'm sure you saw Kusuo-kun's midterm score. While I'm glad that he decided to stop pretending, I have an inkling that was not his intention. I am sure that he'll come clean about it someday, and I don't want to steal his thunder, if you will..."

Aiura finally caught on. "Wait," she interrupted before Akechi can continue. "'Stop pretending' Are you also saying that Kusuo didn't cheat? He really is that smart?"

Akechi tilted his head as if she was stupid. "Of course he is. Kusuo's ability to ace tests in elementary school aside, there's plenty to suggest that he's naturally very smart. He always gets a full score on homework. If he's called on during class to solve a problem on the board, he always answered correctly, even when the teacher is trying to trick him. If you look at what he reads outside of manga, it's always something esoteric or in another language. He doesn't actually pay attention in class, even if he looked like it.

"Intelligence typically tracks well in families too. I know his parents are normal, lovely people, and get along. That's pretty rare in these days and age. The other people in his family are exceptional too. For example, he has a genius older brother who has already graduated from the University of Cambridge with a doctorate, at age nineteen."

Toritsuka and Aiura looked at each other. They were just talking about the same brother earlier.

"Did you know that?" asked Aiura of Toritsuka under here breath. She did not need to know the name of the school to know that it was one of those world top-tiered schools. "The whole University of Cambridge part?"

Toritsuka shook his head, surprise on his face.

Akechi continued on his narrative. "So when Iguchi-sensei said that the university professor thought that Kusuo-kun should be in a doctorate program, that makes a lot of sense since that would make him track his older brother's academic progress at age seventeen. I also heard that he has a grandmother who one of the most renowned woman doctor in the country. Now that I think about it, about how long it took me to confirm that Kusuo was an esper, his ESP almost seemed like a compliment rather than his major trait."

Aiura and Toritsuka looked at each other again. They felt as if another truth bomb was dropped on them.

Kusuo really did not tell people about the details of his life, did he?

Akechi clasped his hands together. "So, what do you think about my current dilemma, PK Academy Psychikers? Can you help me about? Can you help me hide from Kaido and Kuboyasu? I'm sure Kusuo-kun would appreciate that we don't talk about his test score. He is all about keeping as low of a profile as possible. In fact, he might be skipping school because he doesn't want to face his friends badgering him about his test score. I am pretty sure he already knows the materials that are being taught anyways so it's not like he is missing out on an education. Woah. What are you doing, Aiura-san?"

Aiura had enough of Akechi's nonstop yammering. He said so much that it was getting hard to follow his train of thought. She got close to Akechi and put a hand on the boy's mouth. For an added effect, she utilized her feminine wiles. She clung to him, and made sure that her perky boobies were pressing against Akechi's arm, her stance low enough for him to see the cleft of her chest "That's enough out of you, Touma."

Akechi's face immediately reddened and all thoughts vanished. All he could think of were long hair, the smell of summer, long pink acrylic nails, tanned skin and boobies.

Toritsuka looked jealous.

"I'll make sure those two stay away from you," said Aiura as she fished out a miniature crystal ball and looked at it almost negligently. Ah ha, Kuboyasu and Kaido were at the entrance of the cafeteria, definitely looking like they were waiting for someone. Easy enough to avoid. "Until Kusuo tells us what he wants us to do, that is."

Akechi's eyes were too absorbed by the mysterious cleft of Aiura's shapely chest underneath her uniform to realized what she said. He nodded numbly.

"What's this older brother look like anyways," asked Aiura. "He probably looks a lot like Kusuo, no?"

"I've never met the guy," said Akechi. It seemed that having his mind distracted by the female form organized his thoughts. "There was not even a picture of him on the internet, despite being a published graduate at Cambridge and being pretty wealthy man off his business."

Aiura looked to Toritsuka. "Well?"

"What, you're talking to me?"

"Who did you think I was talking to?"

Toritsuka did not even look embarrassed. "Well, they do kind of look alike. I mean, their facial structure and skin tone are definitely the same. You would've never suspected that they were related though, since their colorings are so different. It's kinda funny really, how different they looked from Saiki-san's parents. I mean, at least Saiki-san got his mother's eyes. But Saiki-san's older brother is a pale blond, with like this really pale gray, almost golden eyes. Like, he looks nothing like the rest of his family."

Aiura blinked. The description matched the person she was puzzling over for the last two days. "Wait. What did you say? He is blond? Did that hair cover the left side of his face?"

"Yeah. I guess he had some sort of scar on the left side of his face. How did you already know?"

Aiura sucked in a large breath and gasped as she recalled Kusuo's words and actions back at the fortune teller's house. She recalled that brief, uncontrolled, inexplicable rage and anguish beneath his usual nonchalance.

Aiura had finally put the hints together.

Kusuo was trying to find his older brother.

Kusuo must have tried everything he could, throwing all his psychic abilities at it. Aiura did feel that Kusuo demonstrated the usage of his psychic abilities more than normal, judging by how he so carelessly utilized throughtography, pyrokinesis, psychokinesis, teleportation and threatened to destroy the world. Kusuo mentioned temporal abilities, another power that she did not know that he had.

She recalled his silence during her fortune reading, and how her crystal ball seemed to be straining through a number of different possible futures, but always ended with nothing. Kusuo must had mentally tried a number of different routes in a last ditched effort to change the fortune and defy fate.

"He came to me because he failed," Aiura whispered to herseslf. "He wanted to believe that he was wrong."

Aiura suddenly realized what she had done when she told him the results of her prescience. "And I told him that there's no chance..."

Aiura began to shake when she fully realized the full ramification of Kusuo's visit to her fortune teller's house.

"Guys. I think something really bad had happened," declared Aiura. She looked to the overcast sky. It had started raining again. "I don't think Kusuo will be coming back to school for a while."

Chapter Text

When Kusuo woke up, he saw his mother next to his bed. She had fallen asleep with her head on her crossed arms, her upper body resting on his bed. She sat on a large cushion that was the floor. It was day time.

Why did she have oven mitts over her hands?

There was a wet towel on his forehead head. That was when he noticed that his head was resting on a medical ice pillow.

What was that about?

His brain did not seem to want to think, like there was a layer of muck covering his every neuron. At the same time, his thoughts were rapid and aimless. His body was sore, and slow. Even trying to twitch felt like he was trudging through mud.

He remembered teleporting his parents to Kumagoro and Kumi's house in the countryside. Grandpa had checked out of the hospital and was convalescing at home. His parents wanted to stay behind and make sure all the details are arranged. Grandma Kumi was more than capable of taking care of a grumpy tsudere husband. She was, however, elderly and a fickle lady and might just straight up and leave him. That was the marital dynamic that they had.

Kusuo was dismissed, told to go attend school since he already missed a day, or whatever explanation his parents used to excuse him. Taking care of the grandparents was their job, after all, no need to burden the next generation with the troubles of the sunset generation.

He remembered not arguing with them, and teleported back home to his room. He remembered falling into his bed at some point, too exhausted physically and emotionally by the events of the previous days, not caring if he ever woke up again.

How long he was awake before collapsing on his bed? Since he first woke up to that awful headache? He was not sure.

After asking to be excused from school, he had gone back to his room and activated his temporal abilities. He had stretched his temporal abilities further than he ever had. What might have been the passage of a day in the world was personally many days for him. The effect of those temporal abilities on his circadian rhythm, his mind was unpredictable. His memory updated so many times that he lost track. He metered out his psychic abilities, taking care to use up his stamina a bit at a time, removing his limiters as he needed to penetrate the timelines and parallel universes.

He had to try to bring Kuusuke back.

Why did he even want to bring that jerk back?

Kuusuke was annoying. Kusuo hated him. Kuusuke might as well have been dead to him for the years that he was away in the UK.

Yet, somewhere in the depth of Kusuo's soul, the concept of Kuusuke being completely out of reach was unacceptable. Kuusuke was Kusuo's first playmate; they were supposed to compete, play games, and annoy the hell out of each other, forever. That was the deal.

So Kusuo had to try to keep that deal alive. And tried he did. He had lost count of the attempts.

Nothing could be changed. In this original timeline, along with all those other timelines, even the apocalyptic ones, all converged in this one inescapable fact.

Kusuke was never going to live past the predestined lifespan just shy of 20 years.

Even Aiura confirmed it without hesitation.

And Kusuo still had not figured out why.

God must be a sadist who is laughing his ass off at an all-powerful psychic's failure.

Kusuo took a deep breath and try to think of his present situation and not dwell on that thought train.

It was then that he noticed that he had yet to be greeted by the usual whining and moaning of humanity. Was his telepathy not working because he was so overextended?

First things first. He removed the wet towel on his head and sat up. With caution, he checked for his limiters.

Both are in and seemed intact, undamaged. So that was not the problem.

Wait...did he even put his limiters back on after his escapade through time? And why are these the clunky, pink ball first-generation of limiters? One of them didn't even function as a limiter.

Glasses! He needs those glasses now! Oh good. They were on his face.

Fix the limiters first. Fishing around the pockets, he found the small box that held his third-generation of limiters. He quickly changed them out. He only encountered slight trouble due to minor tremors of the hands.

While he was handling these delicate devices, he noted a ring at the base of his pointing finger on his right hand.

Where did that germanium ring come from? Didn't he gift that to the temple on New Year, along with all his New Year's money, desperately praying for a peaceful year?

Kusuo took a moment to recall that prayer. He was willing to offer the object that provided him with the rare escape from his telepathy and all the cash to his name to escape the prediction of a terrible fortune.

A lot of good that sacrifice did.

God be damned for bestowing upon him a living nightmare.

Kusuo could withstand the constant intrusion of conceited thoughts. He could withstand the disgusting sights of naked people, their grotesque innard and bones. He could withstand the constant anxiety over his powers, the hard work it took to blend in, the precipice of despair that he dodged when his attention wandered and contemplated his curse.

God daring to take his older brother away was the last damn straw.

He needed to go burn that temple down, raze it to to the ground for being such a cruel mockery of hope.

In fact, he wouldn't mind if he burned down the world right now.

He was going to get God back for being always so thoughtful.

And why should Kusuo care about whether Kuusuke lived or die anyway?

Kuusuke was a horrible older brother, always making Kusuo do weird crap, trying to outright humiliate him, trying to blow up the house, send him on that scavenger hunt, lied to him for years, threatened to real his secret. The list goes on and on.

Kuusuke provided the only real solution for Kusuo's ESP. Kuusuke was the only person who understood him so perfectly to push all the right buttons. Kuusuke fixed everything every time something went drastically wrong. The limiters. The switching of schools. The final fool-proof solution to overcoming Mount Owari.

Damn. Kusuo felt his face was getting hot again, and his heart seemed to be pounding since he woke up. His head felt so fuzzy, light, and heavy at the same time. And why the hell was the rest of him so damn cold? It's the middle of June and he was still in his sweater and track pants.

And why are his eyes stinging so badly?

Why is it so hard to breathe?

Why is he still shaking?

Why is everything hurting?

Why did Kuusuke have to just go up and die like that?

Why?

Why?!

WHY!?

"Ku-chan?" Kurumi stirred, alerted by the minute shifting of the bed. She sat up immediately when she saw him awake.

Kusuo blinked at her. Groggy, unfocused, liquidy violet eyes met with bloodshot violet eyes. "Mom?"

Kurumi looked at him with disbelief. She touched him with the oven mitt on. She quickly discarded the oven mitt and her hand lightly brushed his forehead.

"You're not burning up," said Kurumi with shock in her voice. "You're awake and you're not burning up!"

Kurumi leaped onto the bed and hugged him tightly. She kissed and nuzzled him on the cheeks, something she had not done since he was little.

His mother's touch briefly activated psychometery. Her thoughts were a complete jumble and impossible to unpackage. Her emotions were mixed too. She was, frightened, worried, freaked out, tired, but the major themes were her love and panic about him and relief at him being awake.

Why would mom be so panicked about him?

And why was she relieved at the simple fact that he woke up?

"You are not burning up anymore," she said, again, to herself, as if she was trying to impress the reality into her head. "And you woke up! I thought you were never going to wake up!"

Kusuo blinked.

How long had he been asleep?

"You're still slightly warm, but you're not burning up anymore," said Kurumi. She lightly touched his forehead again, making sure the contact this time was too brief to bother him through psychometery. "Oh I'm so relieved! Oh Ku-chan." She began to cry, her face scrunched up. She wiped away her tears with her sleeve. But her emotions overtook her and she buried her face in her hands. "Oh. My baby is okay. He woke up and he's okay. Oh. I'm so glad."

What was going on here?

Kusuo had half a mind to remove his germanium ring to expediently understand what had happened through telepathy. He seemed to be missing something here. The silence was also making him apprehensive as his imagination kept on suggesting that a hidden ninja assassin was hiding in a corner, ready to shank him and mom. At the last second, though, he decided not to.

He was certain that he did not want to hear his mother's distraught thoughts. Exposing himself to her inner distress might cause him to lose his composure right then and there.

His mother was the rock of his life, the anchor of the family. Always steadfast, kind, gentle, perfect alignment of value. With everything that had happened, he needed that rock now.

It seemed that she needed a rock too.

"What happened?" Kusuo asked. The ring prevented him from hearing thoughts, but it did not prevent him from broadcasting.

"You were burning up, Ku-chan. You were burning up so badly," said Kurumi, trying to get the words out between sniffles. "Your room was so warm because of how hot you were. We didn't know how long you were out because we stayed at my parent's place longer than we anticipated. We knew something happened because you didn't come to get us and we had to take the long way back here."

Kusuo frowned at that. He was tired, that was for certain. But so tired that he didn't wake up even for the few minutes it would've taken to pick up his parents? That seemed absurd.

"And when finally we got back," Kurumi continued, "We found you in your room, on your bed, with this huge mess and your desk missing."

It was then that Kusuo noticed that the remnants of the tchotchkes that were teleported back to his room from the office fire had been swept to the side. The blue journals were neatly stacked in a corner. The bits of burnt modular carpet swept in another corner. The charred office plant appeared to have new growth. The dust and char were swept to a third corner.

"You looked like you were sleeping but you were so hot," Kurumi explained. "Papa's hands were burned when he tried to rouse you. We yelled. We prodded. We tried to throw water on you and the water just vaporized. We just couldn't wake you."

Wait. Pyrokinesis? His pyrokinesis was active when he was asleep? That had not happened in a long time.

That explained the oven mitts.

Had he ever been so out of it that he could not be awakened?

Why couldn't he remember? Was this a side effect of his temporal abilities? Of having his memories updated so many times?

"We kept on calling Ku-kun, because when this happened before, he was always able to get you to cool down immediately and wake you up, but he never responded. I called him nonstop on the ride home too and he never picked up. He hasn't responded to anything in five days," Kurumi said, fear creeping into her voice.

So she did not know, yet.

Kusuo resisted the urge to tell her right then and there that Kuusuke will never respond to her.

He looked away from her as his eyes stung, but mom did not notice. She kept on talking, laying out verbally the activities that occurred while he was recovering from an over-exertion of his psychic abilities.

"And then we noticed that your hairpins were missing but we were able to find your old ones in a jewelry box on your bookshelf. We replaced them but it didn't make a difference like the first time it was put in." Kurumi said, she started sobbing. "We thought 'this is it! Your powers are finally going to take you away from us,' We've delayed it as long as we could!"

Wait...what? What is she talking about?

"I don't understand."

"It's like that time when you were ten years old," Kurumi said. "You were so exhausted all the time and you would get so hot that you would pass out. Ku-kun was always here to make sure that you cool back down. And when you woke up, and there would be gaps in your memory, like it never happened. We didn't want to alarm you so we didn't say anything. Then you eventually figured out something was happening and would try to fight it and go the other extreme. You even started to know when it was going to happen and make sure you were in bed first so it seemed like you were just sleeping.

"Ku-kun said it was happening because your body's growth wasn't keeping pace with your power growth and he was working with you on a fix. We didn't dare send you to see a doctor because it was either the government or a scientist taking you away or your ESP taking you away." By now, Kurumi had somehow found a tissue box and was rapidly filling up a trash can with used tissues. "The government wouldn't leave Ku-kun alone because of one stupid test he took when he was two. It took him years to get them to stop pestering him. We didn't want that for you that so we managed the best we could."

That was a lot to absorb.

Was that why his parents were so lax when he demonstrated psychic abilities so young? It was not because they were both ditzy and carefree, but they were scared that some threatening agency would take him away?

But how could that be? He would have realized this via telepathy as a child and fixed whatever trouble that came their way. As to him having such problems with his psychic powers, how in the world did his parents hid it from his telepathy?

As for Kuusuke, that made somewhat sense. Despite being born only two years apart, Kusuo was very much raised like a single child. Kuusuke factored largely in Kusuo's memory as the older brother, but Kuusuke was mysteriously missing from some of Kusuo's younger memories. They did not even attend the same schools, despite their similar academic attainments at the time.

Why hadn't Kusuo known this? Or realized how strange this was until now?

Kurumi did not realize how many questions her words had engendered in her younger son. She continued talking. "Then one day, right after you turned eleven, you came home from school and you passed out on the living room floor. You didn't even make it to bed like you usually did. You weren't responsive at all, we couldn't wake you up, just like now. And you kept on getting hotter and hotter until we started seeing heat mirages and embers. I thought that we had to say our goodbyes."

Kusuo wished his brain would catch up. What was mom talking about?

At ten, eleven years old, he must've been in the fifth grade, then? That was right. He barely remembered the details. His telepathy range had grown to something completely unmanageable that he could barely get sleep, scrambling much of his own memories of that time period.

Was that reason why he could not recall much about it? He did recall a singular episode of distress, not this prolonged problem that chronically worried his parents.

Was it really that bad?

He felt like there was a barrier on his memory surrounding the event, that year, and almost all the years before that, as if his mind had cornered off and locked those memories away.

"I thought that it was happening again," said Kurumi, still between blowing noses. "But this time, Ku-kun isn't here and he's not responding. He always got back to me immediately when I told him to check on you, usually before I even ask.

"I think something happened to him, Ku-chan," Kurumi started to bawl. "and you were so hot and weren't waking up and I just didn't know what to do!"

For the next minute or so, the room was filled with Kurumi's sobbing, of her imagining the worst, that her children were leaving her before she left them.

Kusuo did not know how to react to her. He intellectually understood that there was such a thing as emotions, but he rarely had to deal with them since he personally felt so little.

The sight of his own mother so tormented by fear, anguish made him want to hold her and run away at the same time.

He was barely holding it together himself. Holding her would compound the threat to his composure. He would never leave her either in this state alone. She was his mother.

He could not bear telling her that her suspicions about Kuusuke were correct either. He saw it with his own eyes, attempted to use all his power to bring Kuusuke back and could not. He had this unwanted reality blithely confirmed, without any doubt, by another psychic.

Eventually, Kurumi calmed down. She sniffed, held her hand to her heart. She shook away as if the action could banish her awful imagination. "But, it's going to be okay. You woke up, now. You're not so hot anymore," she said to herself, soothing her own emotions. She reached over to Kusuo and lightly touched his forehead with the back of her hand. She seemed more reassured.

"And I'm just being a worry-wort for nothing. Ku-kun is probably just busy. He's always into one thing or another. He always took good care of himself. It's no different than when he was studying abroad. He would laugh at my doom and gloom. This is not like me." Though she seemed unconvinced, saying the words seemed to calm her down from her earlier distrait. "It's going to be okay," she repeated to herself.

No, it's not going to be okay, thought Kusuo.

Kuusuke had his mischievous moments and obvious mental problems, but in Kuusuke's lifespan, he had become the safety net for the Saiki family.

Issues with Kusuo's psychic powers aside, it had been Kuusuke who dealt with Dad's employment issues. Grandpa was able to get the medical attention due to Kuusuke's modernization of the town he lived in. Even in the accidental time slip, it was due to the other Kuusuke's invention that got Kusuo back to the original timeline. Kuusuke always had a solution to the seemingly insurmountable.

Kusuo was beginning to recognize some of the indirect ramifications of his brother's passing.

Kurumi did not seem to detect her son's contemplative state. Instead, she indulged herself with another hug, verifying again that her baby boy was okay again. This was just a one-off.

"I'll go prepare some rice porridge (1) for you," said Kurumi. "We'll see how you feel after that, okay?"

The mention of food reminded Kusuo was just how long he had gone without eating. That might have caused some of his memory confusion earlier. It had been several days, at least in his experience, since the office building fire. His appetite seemed to be returning. Not a whole lot but he felt that he could tolerate food again.

Kurumi felt a tug at her sleeve and she saw her son pointing to the medical ice pillow and the ring on his finger.

"Where did these come from?" Kusuo asked her. In his recollection, these things were not on the list of common items that his parents would've thought of when it came to caring for him, especially the germanium ring. He never told anyone of its effects on his telepathy.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother, Risa, you know, your dad's mother, is a medical doctor. She was here yesterday. She recommended the cooling pillow and placed this ring on you. She said that as long as we make sure your head cool down, and keep this ring on you, you should eventually wake up. She just did not know when. She said she'll come by sometime later to check on you."

"Did you...tell her?" asked Kusuo. "About my ESP?"

Kurumi shook her head. "We didn't say anything to her. Papa thinks that it should be your decision whether you want to tell people or not. I agree too."

Kusuo fingered the ring. In the duration of being awake so far, he saw inklings of residual memories on the ring. At first, he thought it was just his mind replying the events from the previous days. That was not true, the more time he had it and study it.

He did not broadcast his next thought.

Grandmother Risa already knows. This is her ring.

Chapter Text

The Saiki family, mom, dad, and younger son, sat at the low table in the traditional tatami mat hosting room, having a late lunch with a recently not-so-estranged woman named Risa.

Since Kusuo woke up and seemed to go around fine on his own, Kurumi no longer felt the need to fret by his bedside. Instead, she went all out on this meal.

There was white rice, sushi, miso soup, skirt steak, pork chops, a serving of curry, as well as a variety of steamed vegetables and traditionally pickled foods such as daikon, beets, and plum. She broke out the lacquered dishware, handmade clay teacups and teapots, ceramic utensils, chopsticks and chopstick holders. The spread of colorful food and fancy serving ware was certain to earn the much-desired approval of a mother-in-law.

Kurumi specially prepared rice porridge separately for Kusuo and gently reminded him that he should eat that first before trying any other foods. She had watched him through his health episode and knew that he had not eaten for a while. It was not a good thing to shock the body with heavy foods like curry. She also reminded him to wear that ring as Grandmother Risa instructed, until he was informed otherwise. He was a good son and she knew that he would obey her recommendations as commands.

Kusuo picked at the rice porridge a bit, which was hard to do considering that it was just rice and water. He was hungry, that was for certain, but once he sat down at the low table, he felt that he had no appetite again. The sumptous spread of everything else seemed unappetizing too. The hot barley tea was good, though, and much welcomed. He did feel much better after about three cups. He sipped his tea, savoring the warmth and fidgeted with the germanium ring underneath the table, studying this stranger woman who had so suddenly came into the Saiki family's lives.

Grandmother Risa was a relatively tall woman in her sixties.

She wore a muted tanned colored kimono, of the houmongi type, with understated plum blossom patterns sewed onto the skirt and sleeves. It seemed odd considering that most people did not normally wear these cumbersome old-fashioned dresses for casual visits anymore, must less in the summertime. Yet, on this woman, she made it seemed normal. She even had a traditional oil-paper umbrella, completely impractical in modern times, as her cover from the rain and sun.

She seemed comely but also eyecatching. Her hair bounded high and out of the way. Her lips were curved into a decidedly neutral expression, neither smiling nor frowning. She looked like a real-life photoshopped cutout from a fashion magazine.

But her color was what caught Kusuo's attention.

Pale blonde with greenish golden eyes, exact shade as Kuusuke's coloring.

Her build and facial structure strongly mirrored his own, more than Kuniharu and Kurumi. Her posture was of someone who had strength, pride, and position. She was effortlessly regal, calm, controlled, and completely unlike Kusuo's down-to-earth maternal grandparents or even his own sentimental parents.

Finally, an answer to the question of why Kusuo and his older brother seemed so different from everyone in their immediate family and the people around them; they were not so different at all.

The Saiki brothers strongly resembled the people on their father's mother side. That had to be one of the reasons why his parents were so accepting that their children had come out looking so physically different from them.

What an oddly comforting and troublesome thought, considering that Kusuo was learning this now, when he was almost legally an adult.

What had caused such a rift that both of his parents, who are so wholesome in their own right, avoided an entire half of the family? Something about a disownment? How in the world did his parents hidden this from him? Why did Risa looked so different now, compared to the photo he saw at the hospital? How come his father's impression of her seemed to suggest a passionate woman, rather than this tranquil old lady?

Kusuo was itching to remove the germanium ring and listen to Risa's inner thoughts and figure this mystery out. He did so, briefly underneath the table. Immediately, his parent's animated thoughts, along with several dozen of voices of the people in their neighborhood came filtering in far louder than whatever inner thoughts Risa had.

Kusuo's reaction to the voices he received was unexpected. The voices of people in the neighborhood, with their usual nonstop complaint of existence, seemed clamorous and immediately riled Kusuo without reason. His own parent's thoughts, as lively as they were about how to impress and catch up with Risa, was rift with an undercurrent of concern; they thought about checking in on grandpa Kumagoro, Kuusuke's silence, but mostly, they thought about their younger son and their apprehension over recent ill physical health effects from his ESP. Both furtively looked over to Kusuo in between conversations to see if he's eatened and made internal comments of how ashen he looked.

Somehow his parents' worry over him, over others, was deeply upsetting.

And still not a peep of Risa's thoughts.

After several inconspicuous failed attempts at hearing Risa's thoughts, and faced with his own unexpected reactions to other thoughts, Kusuo gave up. The uneasy telepathic silence was preferable on his state of mind.

So Kusuo preoccupied himself with poking at his food, making a show of eating it, studying this stranger woman, listening to his parents gibbering on, trying to make up for the two decades of interaction, being good hosts.

As Kusuo continued to study Risa's countenance and mannerisms, Kusuo thought back again about his first mass mind control as a child, the one where he changed humanity's DNA and people outward appearance for the sole purpose of fitting in. A check of the germanium ring's residual memories did confirm the existence of people who shared his coloring long before Kusuo came around, they just lived in dad's hometown, far from the cosmopolitan cities. To think that he, Kusuo, was born to belong perfectly all along, where he was just another normal kid, that exercise of mind control seemed childish now.

Kusuo suddenly wished Kuusuke was here to realize this. Kusuo now recalled that they had to play/annoy each other at the playground because the other children had found them strange looking and avoided them. Such an act only made Kuusuke more adamant on calling humanity a bunch of monkeys and completely worthless. Kusuo did not disagree, but he always felt a measure of isolation and sadness from such treatment by other children, even as their unkind inner thoughts filtered into his mind. Then Kuusuke would scold him for wasting emotions on such selfish animals. There were no others like them.

That know-it-all masochist scientist would be so flustered having such fundamentally held ideas shaken.

Oh....Ani... Kusuo thought sullenly, as he looked down at his tea and took a sip.

"Tell me again, about this mangaka Shiragami Fudekichi-sensei," said Risa, her voice was musical. She sounded like she would score the full 100 points at karaoke. "What is his manga series? And your role, Kuniharu?"

It was a question that Kuniharu happily indulged. Like any son, he still wanted the approval of his mother for his chosen profession and was relieved to know that she was interested. So he told her about his epic direction of the mangaka, getting the series The Silent Cyborg into the mainstream. He chatted about the effort it took to gain a mangaka's trust, the trouble in getting drafts, and the impossible deadlines that editors must adhere to survive as a business in this competitive environment.

In the middle of all this, the meal and the conversation proceeded with some of the usual horseplay between Kurumi and Kuniharu.

For one, Kurumi was spoon-feeding Kuniharu. As a result of trying to wake his younger son, Kuniharu burned his hands. Since it had been more than 24 hours, Kusuo's Restoration powers would only exacerbate the problem. It was not a bad injury since the Kuniharu immediately retracted his hands and it was a mild burn with the expectation of full recovery. Kuniharu did not seem to be so disturbed by his current condition and seemed to actually enjoy the shameless pleasure of being so babied by his wife and making a show of it. He married the right woman and was damn proud of it.

Risa did not indicate her opinion on such a scene. She continued to ask him questions. It seemed that they did not have much of a chance to have long dialogues between reconnecting again and this personal family visit. Kuniharu avoided all mentions of shoe licking at his job.

"What about you, Kurumi," asked Risa after Kuniharu spent some time talking about his work. "I hear that you're heavily involved in the neighborhood association. Can you tell me more about what it entails?"

At that Kurumi prompt, Kurumi dove into an exposition of her day-to-day with the other moms, the cleaning duties, the waste pick up schedules, the festivals that they've arranged with the local schools and shops, the maintenance of the yard and her home so that the neighborhood was inviting. She talked about her time with other moms, how they would go to cafes and shopping.

Risa continued to ask probing questions, seeming to be genuinely interested in Kurumi's domestic life.

Kurumi eventually talked about their neighbor, how Iridatsu-san's little boy, Yuuta came over often so that he can play with his favorite "O-Nii-san" and how Kusuo indulged Yuuta by dressing up and pretending to be one of Yuuta's TV show heroes, Sodaman Mark II.

"Speaking of "O-Niisan"," said Risa, "I believe you have another son, your eldest?" Risa closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to recall something. "What's his name again?"

Kurumi smiled happily, though not as wide as normal. Her oldest's mysterious silence still worried her but she pushed that concern away. Kuusuke was known for suddenly dropping off the face of the earth and popping right back up, usually as a pleasant surprise. She held onto that hope as she spoke about him pride. "Yes. Saiki Kuusuke. He's out in society already. He just turned twenty, you know."

At those words, Kusuo stopped picking at his rice porridge and took another sip of tea. It didn't seem like anyone noticed.

"Oh? Did he not attend college? And decide to work in the trades?" asked Risa.

This time, it was Kuniharu laughed. "Oh no. Quite the opposite. He graduated last year with a doctorate from the University of Cambridge."

True to her regal form, Risa's reaction gave nothing away. "A doctorate? Shouldn't that have taken at least seven years of tertiary schooling? Assuming that he skips the traditional master's degree?"

"No. It didn't take him that long. It's a doctorate. Only about five years," said Kuniharu, sounding quite proud. "He left the house by fourteen, you know."

"And you let him?" Risa's voice was probing.

"Of course we did. He's always been very independent," said Kuniharu.

"And what did he study?"

At that, Kuniharu seemed stumped, but shrugged. "Something science related. He's a verified genius."

Risa seemed to take that all in, coming to a certain conclusion. Then she turned her attention to Kusuo. "What about you, Kusuo-kun. What are your plans for the future? Is it as phenomenal as your older brother?"

What? As phenomenal as in 'burst into flames?' was Kusuo's unbidden sarcastic inner thought. Unwittingly, Kusuo's mind recalled that cursed memory where Kuusuke's body disintegrated, the brush of hot embers on his skin, his own uncontrollable, overwhelming, surprsing reaction to the loss of someone he thought he hated.

He really should tell his parents.

How should he tell his parents?

Would they even believe him? With Kuusuke's track record of disppearing and reapparing without notice?

In the end, Kusuo did not say anything. He looked down and focused exclusively on his rice porridge. He might have taken a few bites?

"Ku-chan," called Kurumi, concern twinged with unease in her voice. "Are you not feeling well again? You're shaking."

Both Saiki parents were looked at their son with worry. Kusuo was pensive, gloomy even, that was part of his nature, but never had he been so unresponsive.

Was it because he had never been sick, outside the effects of his psychic abilities? For which he just had a major episode for only the second time of his life. And did not know how to react to it?

Last time this had happened, Kusuo seemed to have returned to normal soon after. He attended school like normal. He was able to easily participate in sports, for a short while. He continued the usual competitions that he and his brother had, at least briefly since Kuusuke left home within the year after that. Kusuo finished off elementary school without further incident and went about his life as if such a horrible event that caused his parent's immeasurable personal anguish never happened. It was probably a mentally protective measure. It was not good for the world if such a powerful psychic dwelled so on personal problems.

This time, though, without Kuusuke's reliable discernment, Kusuo's issues within the last couple of days left his parents with a dread of the unknown. Both parents wished that their eldest son's persistent silence would stop.

"Why don't you excuse yourself, Kusuo-kun," said Risa, her arms crossed, detecting the mood at the table. "I'll come and check on you a little later."

"Oh, that's right," said Kuniharu, as if he suddenly remembered something. "Kusuo, I bet you already know this, but your grandmother Risa is one of the first woman doctors in the country. We completely trust her to check you out."

Not if I have something to say about it, thought Kusuo. Just because his father trusted this woman did not mean Kusuo was about to.

He was glad for the escape though. It would give him time to regroup, think of a good way to let his parents know, and corner this stranger woman for questioning about the memories in the germanium ring, once he had his composure about him again.

Chapter Text

Kusuo laid down on top of his made bed, contemplating whether he should just crawl underneath the covers again and go back to sleep.

Despite having been in bed for what he can infer from his parent's thoughts to be at least two days, he still felt fairly tired. Every movement still felt unnatural, like he was wearing a shell of himself, wearing a mask of his face, looking at himself in third person. His mind was still swirling from the events of the previous days, still sifting through memories of different timelines and banishing the irrelevant ones. He thought of his mother's emotional outburst, his father's oddly steady presence in all of this, and the meal with Risa. He thought about Kuusuke again, and seriously considered about how to tell his parents.

Maybe just wait? If his mother's reaction to his mild issue of extended sleep was any indication, crying would be the least of her reactions. The news had to get to his maternal grandparents too. How would his tsudere grandfather Kumagoro take it?

Almost as an afterthought, Kusuo used clairvoyance on his grandfather.

Gross. Sitting on the toilet and reading a newspaper. Kumagoro was more than fine. He would be back to yelling at his son-in-law, Kuniharu, in no time.

What about...Ani...?

Steadying his heart beat, Kusuo tried clairvoyance for Kuusuke.

Still nothing.

Kusuo threw an arm over his eyes, doing breathing exercises to calm his heart, steadying his emotions, supressing the urge to flatten everything within Kanto Region.

Kuusuke would had berated him for being so mentally undisciplined.

Why would he even think that?

The gentle click of the door to his room shook him from his thought train. Didn't he lock the door?

It was Grandmother Risa. She shuffled in, making mini-steps that was forced by her customary dress. She seemed unabashed as she put away the whatever card she used to loid the locked door open.

Great. Grandmother Risa was one of those people.

Well, that was better than what his parents would do. Dad would just pound on the door nonstop and make a racket if he did not respond. Mom would break the door handle in for which he would have to restore.

Kusuo sat up on his bed, looking at this traditionally-dressed woman, his finger on the germanium ring again.

"Don't you dare remove that ring," said Risa to Kusuo as she walked in and closed the door. "At your current state, you might start burning again. Do not disrespect your mother by being so careless with the body she's given you."

Strange comments aside, Kusuo's natural irreverent side could not resist a sharp comment back. "You should tell that to your son." Kusuo recalled what had to be hundreds, maybe thousands, of time that he had to use Restoration on his father, from the far too many stubbed toes to near death from falling off a tree wrong.

At that, Risa stared at him for five seconds, then laughed. It was deep and throaty, diffusing some of the tension. "That, I do not disagree. Kuniharu wasn't always this careless, you know. Being surrounded by such capable blood kins spoiled him. It's human nature to be so give and take"

Kusuo gave her a penetrating gaze. He recalled his own same conclusion about human nature, back during that brief period when his parents were fighting over some minor slight that neither remembered. He had reflected that he probably should not indulge his father's requests for making life easier, or else he would make his father even more gutless.

Such strange agreeance with his own opinion was disarming.

"Where are my parents?" asked Kusuo. The house was too quiet.

"Out. They're going to a burn doctor to check out Kuniharu's hands," said Risa. "He's going to be fine, but your mother felt compelled," There was a hint of disapproval in her voice. She looked at Kusuo with intense interest as she got uncomfortably close. "May I...touch you?"

What kind of question is that? thought Kusuo.

"Nothing improper, I assure you," Risa further clarified. "I wish to confirm something."

Taking his silence as approval, Risa reached over and lightly touched the top of his head and traced his hairline.

Kusuo was tense, ready to shrink away the moment that hand got too close to the limiters. He was wary of unintentional device removal. If he was not mentally prepared, the act could render him unconscious. Since there were two now, it should not pose as much of a problem as before. Still, he was not about to experiment, especially not when the person who could mitigate his psychic issues is now out of reach.

"Ha. You are real. A little warm but stable and healthy. I cannot believe it," said Risa, she sounded nostalgic and sad. She sat back, and looked at Kusuo with misty eyes. "You know, I had a son who was born like you. Telepathy, psychokinesis, premonitions, that sort of things. You look like him, pink-hair and all. Kasei was his name. He was your father's older brother."

Now that was surprising. Kusuo had always been told, or rather, his telepathic impression, was that his father was an only child. But what truly caught his attention was Risa's mention of psychic power, the careless nonchalance of it.

"Did you really think there were no others like you?" asked Risa with amusement.

Of course, there are others, just not similar to me, thought Kusuo. He immediately considered of Toritsuka and Aiura. Both had abilities. Toritsuka with his ability to speak to and manipulate spirits while Aiura had a much more reliable version of clairvoyance, premonition, and aura sight. Others had abilities that seemed to defy the norm, like Suzamiya's super bad luck, Satou's averageness, or Hairo's incredible heat generation, but nothing as unexplained and as extraordinary as Kusuo himself.

Risa seemed to take Kusuo's silence as a question. So she continued, "There had always been abilities in our family, with most of the manifestations being ineffectual. Occasional premonitions. Seeing people's dreams, greater charm, spotty telepathy, abilities that are barely above guessing."

"But your type, ones with abilities that directly affect the physical world to your imagination..." Risa ticked her tongue, "You know, we used to mourn when children like you were born because none had ever lived past childhood." Risa smiled widely. "And yet, here you are!

"I thought Kuniharu was joking when he mentioned you and that you're a senior in high school. He did nothing special and succeeded where all of us had failed previously. You didn't even grow up with a telepathy blocker and managed to stay sane! And to see you are almost an adult, stable, healthy, able to suppress burning on your own," Risa was quiet for a moment. "Kuniharu achieved the impossible. Maybe he isn't as worthless as I thought."

Oh. He can be worthless, was Kusuo's inner opinion. His father had depended on Kusuo for far too many things. Still, Kusuo begrudgingly honored his father, as demanded by tradition, so he did not make a habit of open critique.

"And seeing you here now, knowing that it is possible to survive," Risa continued, her misty eyes returning as she stared at Kusuo, "It just...it makes me wonder what I did wrong with Kasei."

Kusuo had so many questions. None of this made sense. It did not help that he was still recovering from all the awful events of earlier. "What happened to him?" Kusuo settled on that question.

"Flashover. He barely made it to four years old. Kuniharu would not have remembered Kasei since he was only one year old at the time," said Risa. There was a slight catch in her voice. "Kasei was in such pain, burning from the inside out, in his last months, then he finally flashed over."

"What is flashover?" he asked, uneasily. He did not need to be a psychic to see that Risa was recalling unpleasant memories.

"Oh. That's right. Of course you don't know. You lived. And neither of your parents ever seen its ultimate result so they never knew it was a possibility," Risa realized. She looked like she was putting on the proverbial professorial hat. "There are two concepts that you likely already understand, but I should clarify. There is an interplay between ability and power."

Kusuo crossed his arms. This explanation had better be good.

"Ability is the act that can be accomplished and power is the energy required to perform those abilities. In terms of ability and power, you and I can generally agree that clairvoyance requires relatively little power to accomplish compared to, say, psychokinesis."

Risa noted Kusuo's subtle nod to indicate that he was following along.

"Most of the psychic abilities that manifest in this world require very little power. These are your typical sight-related abilities. These are your fortune tellers, mediums, and oracles of history. Some of them have very obvious above-normal foresight and some of them, no better than guessing.

Where does X-ray vision fit? was what Kusuo thought, but did not voice.

Risa continued. "Some abilities have variable power needs, such as telepathy and its diverse manifestation. Some can only perceive, at a close distance, and barely come close to the actual thought. That power requirement is negligible. You'd do better by reading body language. Then there are those who can broadcast, if you will, which require moderate power. Even further are those who can enforce their will via telepathy for which there is an astronomical power cost. Power requirement also increases exponentially by distance.

"I'm going to guess your telepathy allows you to broadcast and enforce will. I can tell because your lips had not moved and you seemed to communicate well enough with your parents and with me. In this, I assume that you have the higher levels of telepathy of will enforcement, at least hypnosis, because my mind kept on trying to tell me that you were moving your lips, when you obviously did not."

Risa noted that Kusuo had nodded faintly again. It seemed like it was his method of noting to people that he was paying attention. So she kept on talking.

"Then we have those with physical-impact abilities. The psychokinesis, the pyrokinesis, translocations. Those abilities require enormous amounts of power by its very nature as scientific laws are blended and bent to realize those abilities.

"These innate abilities dictate the amount of power usage and minimum power containment. Your diviners hold very little power while your pyrokinetics are often bursting at the seams."

Risa paused for a moment to observe Kusuo's facial expression.

Per usual, Kusuo's expression was blank, but it did seem like he grasped the concepts.

"So here is where burning and flashover comes in," Risa continued. "Burning occurs when the power accumulation overcomes the body's containment of that power. With nowhere to go, the power begins to dissipate as heat. This would increase the body temperature. A psychic fever, if you will.

"When I first saw you, it was obvious to me that you were burning. Your body temperature had to easily be over 100 degrees Celcius. A normal human body would have already been cooked before that. It's also very painful, so painful that you would either be screaming or simply fainted. I assumed the latter. I place that ring on you because it suppresses telepathic reception and it appears to help reduce the temperature. It was my younger sister's blocker ring, one that she wore on a necklace. It used to give my boy rare relief. I use it now when I need to focus and not distracted by thoughts."

Risa was silent for a while as she closed her eyes. "For some, the heat dissipation of power will damage the body that it eventually overcomes the body's own cellular regeneration and causes a flashover." She opened her eyes again. "In other words, spontaneous human combustion."

Kusuo listened to the information and began to piece certain events in his life together.

Now his mother's description of and response to his physical condition made sense. She probably had an idea of what was happening, especially if Kuusuke had been there to explain things the first time around.

This time, though he had forgotten to put his limiters back in because he was so preoccupied and exhausted.

If what Risa said was true, then did he just skirted death simply because he forgot to put a couple of pins back into his head?

Kuusuke would be angry if he knew his younger brother was so careless.

Kusuo frowned slightly to himself. Why would he think that? He never cared about what Kuusuke thought of him. It made no sense either. Kusuo could not recall a time that Kuusuke was ever angry. Annoyed, miffed, surprised, upset, that was for certain. Kuusuke had always been dramatic, but never angry.

Why couldn't Kusuo recall?

"So far, flashover had been the fate of all the espers in the family," Risa continued on without noticing Kusuo's inner ruminations. "Your type, the flashover occurs all too early. The more power the ability demands, the greater the flashover. My own younger sister, Miha, was the one who lived the longest previous to you. She made it almost ten years before she flashed over. The family tried everything. That blocker ring was one of them. It seemed to reduce her flare-ups. But eventually, her telepathy range became too wide and she started losing her mind, her abilities became unpredictable and she used pyrokinesis almost daily. She had become a monster to care for. It was almost a relief when she flashed over."

Kusuo felt almost pins and needles going through him as he listened to the description. A monster? Where had he heard that before? As for the pyrokinesis, that would have explained the memories of flames that Kusuo saw through psychometry earlier.

Kusuo's head felt fuzzy again. He really should not be having this conversation right now. There were too many questions and he felt terribly irritated for being told all of this now.

"And you didn't think to tell me this earlier?" asked Kusuo presently. "Or even tell my parents?"

"I never knew you even existed!" defended Risa. "All this time, I just thought Kuniharu had married your mother without thinking about the future. Without time to develop a career, he would be unable to be the provider that he should be. Being an editor for a third rate publisher can't be making much money. I thought that he would be living in a shabby apartment somewhere, probably with just one child and be chronically financially strapped. He had a take-it-by-the-day attitude and I was certain that he could barely achieve a steady middle-class. I thought your mother would've left him by now because trust me, no woman can tolerate such treatment for long.

"Then I come here, and I see this," Risa gestured vaguely to the room. "I see this huge new modern house, all these new furnishings. Then I hear that your parents were able to send your older brother to study abroad, send you to attend a private school, even raise you to adulthood. Kurumi is able to stay a housewife all these years and indulge Kuniharu. All of this should cost more money than the average family income. Maybe Kuniharu isn't as unaccomplished as I expected his nature to be."

"You're wrong on at least a couple of points," Kusuo noted, shaking his head. It was a feat that his father could work for so long and be compensated generally well for mostly licking shoes. Very few people could claim that. Kusuo had seen his father's editorial abilities. While it was above average, it was also nothing inspiring. No. the inspiring ability to be so accomplished in the manner of mainstream society had always been someone else. "Kuusuke provided this house and offered it free of charge. He went off to study abroad on scholarships and grants. He never took a single yen."

Now it was Risa's turn to frown. She was silent for a few seconds, as if testing for a few things. "Something is off here."

"What?"

"If what you've said is true, then your older brother must be extraordinary and is a large part of the family awareness. But it seems that..." Risa's brows furrowed as if trying to figure out a puzzle. "Did you mind control your parents?"

Kusuo visibly blanched at the unexpected question. "Of course not. They're my parents."

Risa's eyebrows were still furrowed, deep in thought. "But it's there. There is a very strong pervasive mind control at work here. It's barely's a whisper, almost undetectable, but permeates everything. It's preventing all attention on something."

Kusuo thought about his own mind control and hypnosis. He did negligently use those abilities to avoid drawing attention to himself. It usually worked by suggesting to people who found his appearance striking to be something far more mundane. Pink hair? It's was just some shade of red and brown, tricks of the light. His old limiters with those eye-catching pink antennas? Simple hairpins that are completely normal on a guy. His green spectacles which made looking at body parts all day slightly more bearable than ordinary clear glasses and prevent accidental petrification of people? He was just some guy who was sensitive to light. "I use some passive mind control to keep attention away from myself," said Kusuo.

Risa shook her head again. "No no. It's not you. Everyone before you had done something to keep people from noting your unique appearance. It's something far deeper. It's like...I can't even say the name. I've heard it and read it many times, but it seemed to vanish as soon as I think of it. And you've said that you keep attention off yourself only." Risa looked at Kusuo with a sudden look of clarity. "Of all the people you know who know of him, how many knew his name? His given name? Outside of the family?"

" Of who?"

"Your older brother."

Kusuo seemed to space out as his mind quickly ticked off a list of people who knew of Kuusuke.

Teruhashi was certain to know Kuusuke's name. She was over on New Year and their parents said Kuusuke's name plenty enough time. Now that Kusuo thought about it, Teruhashi had only ever thought of Kuusuke as "Kusuo's older brother." This could have been the habit of politeness in Teruhashi's drive to be the perfect pretty girl.

There was Toritsuka, who had the longest interaction with Kuusuke. Kusuo was certain that Toritsuka didn't know Kuusuke's name. Toritsuka had asked Kusuo several times for a name for which Kusuo flat out refused to tell him. Kusuo felt that if Kuusuke did not let Toritsuka know, then it was not in Kusuo's place to enlighten Toritsuka. Toritsuka had independently interacted with Kuusuke so Kusuo divested all responsibility of that interaction.

Nendo and Kaido must have known because how else did their respective mothers had ever allowed them to fly to London in the middle of a school week? That would have been reasonable. Again, Kusuo only recalled them mentally referred to Kuusuke as "Saiki-kun's older brother" or "Aibou's older brother." Again, that could have been a habit of politeness. His friends were not completely unaware of highschoolers.

Kaido's mom seemed to remember Kuusuke, but only as "the Cambridge University graduate," never by name, despite being told Kuusuke's name at least once by mom.

Had Kusuo deliberately suggested to people not to know about Kuusuke? Kusuo's powers were unpredictable at times and may have worked without him deliberately wanting it to. If he did, then Kusuo did have a relatively protective reason for it. Kuusuke's innate nature was simply terrifying to normal people. As much as Kusuo found his friends as annoyances at times, he thought that subjugating them to the burden of knowing Kuusuke would probably be a form of torture.

But would his mind control abilities be working out at Kumagoro and Kumi's town in the sticks? Kuusuke did live there for a while. Even there, Kuusuke was known as "the Saiki's grandson" outside the family and never by his given name.

What about all those people who gave Kusuo instructions in the scavenger hunt? Kusuo had noted that the people who came to give him instructions were ignorant of the person who was paying them. Even the person who was supposed to give him a card based on the word in that avant-garde statue seemed unaware of the word until Kusuo said it, which in the context of Kusuo's constant telepathy, should have not been possible. Everyone that he interacted with simply did whatever they were told, as if compelled by an unknown force, without knowing why.

And why would he consider Kuusuke's innate nature to be terrifying? Kuusuke had always acted so immature, like a kid who never grew up, always wanting to play some sort of game, looking down at humanity like a discarded toy ripe for burnable trash day. To Kusuo, his older brother was a necessary inconvenience that he, the younger brother, must suffer, be responsible for, due to the misfortune of birth.

The more Kusuo thought about the details, the more disturbed he became, the fuzzier his head got. Was this a side effect of ESP overuse? Was this a side effect of seeing Kuusuke's body becoming embers? Of how disturbed he felt when that happened? Of how unexpected and unexplained it was?

He felt that he was at the cliff of understanding, with something there that prevented him from scaling that cliff. That something had always been there, for as long as he can remember. It kept him from falling but also kept him from scaling the cliff. It never felt dangerous so he never questioned it. Every time he seemed to reach the top, the that something only caused the sheer face only became taller.

Perhaps he should attempt the cliff of understanding differently, to avoid that something.

"What are your abilities, anyways?" asked Kusuo suddenly, completely ignoring Risa's earlier question.

Grandmother Risa looked at him, as if suddenly realizing that would be a naturally legitimate question to ask. "I have mild empathy and general telepathy. As a medical doctor, it's been useful for bedside manners, for telling if patients are lying about their medication, their condition. I can get an impression of what people are saying with about 3 meters, but I have to touch the person if I want clarity."

That's it? thought Kusuo. He then asked, "So were you listening to me earlier?"

Risa shrugged. "Some. I was focused on your parents. Kuniharu is my son, after all, as gutless as he is. Kurumi is as ditzy as I remembered. Still, they're as lovey-dovey as ever. For that, I am glad for them. Finding steadfast companionship is not an easy task.

"As for you, my sense of you was that you were mildly puzzled, and curious about me. But there's an underlying longing about something, a very deep-seated sadness about you. Otherwise, you're flat, completely uninterested," Risa shifted her sitting position a little bit. "It's hard to tell, since telepathy against telepathy will create blind spots. In theory, I could speak to you with telepathy, but I don't broadcast well and the reception would be a toss-up. Plus, I did not wish to burden you since you were burning earlier."

So that may have explained why he could not detect Risa's thoughts earlier.

"By the way, what is your telepathy range?" asked Risa, "It seems relatively large. Is it like...10 meters or so?"

"Is that normal?"

"It's wide enough to disturb my boy's sleep," said Risa, sadness in her voice returning. "Miha's range was about 50 meters. She went insane from just that."

Kusuo almost wanted to laugh. He took back his nostalgic feeling of belonging from earlier. He was still abnormal, even in the context of a lineage of espers.

God really hated him.

And Kuusuke was still goddamn right.

She looked at him curiously. The reaction was unexpected. "Why? What is your range?"

"Right now? Without the ring, about 100 meters." The new generation of limiters did help reduce the reception.

Risa's looked concerned. "...What? How are you even sane?"

"It's probably because I never knew anything different. It was in the kilometers before I was ten."

An incredulous look was on Risa's face, her eyes looked like they were about to bug out.

Kusuo did not seem to notice as he looked to the first generation limiter on his night stand, his thoughts going to its initial creation. " But the limiter greatly reduced it." The long needle seemed menacing, like lobotomy picks.

It seemed nuts now to think that he had trusted Kuusuke enough, who was a mere thirteen-year-old at the time, to allow the drilling of permanent holes in his skull, through the dura and insert these thick needles into the frontal lobe of the brain. The event must have not occurred in view of their parents since his parents seemed to only recall the final assembly with the signal amplifier of the pink ball.

Risa seemed to pick up the mystery before her, "Limiter? What is that?"

Kusuo pointed to the first generation of limiter that was sitting on his nightstand. "Devices that suppresses my ESP. If what you've said so far is true, then I'm here becaue of these things. When I first got them, some of my ESP stopped working completely. In time, they always came back."

"There are such things as devices that reduce ESP?" asked Risa, seemingly not comprehending.

"Or erase them, at least temporarily," Kusuo indicated. He looked to the location of his second-generation limiter, which he had stored in his desk, along with the box of spare third-generation limiters.

Except for the location where his desk was now sat a semi-organized debris pile of the miscellaneous items from the Cambridge office fire.

Kusuo sucked in a breath.

Shit.

For far too often in recent times, Kusuo had to force down another intense feeling of distress. Strings of cuss words floated in the forefront of his mind, threatening to come out. He could barely put down the creeping anger at himself. How could he had been so careless?

Risa seemed to detect this. " What's going on Kusuo-kun. You seemed alarmed...Why are you turning translucent?"

Without any explanation, Kusuo disappeared.

Risa stared at the empty air where Kusuo had previously occupied, uncomprehending for nearly 30 seconds.

Invisibility and teleportation, thought Risa, and with such ease! He must be a very strong esper indeed! What an astonishing young man.

Kusuo reappeared soon enough, only a couple of minutes later. He now stood in the middle of the room, looking at the pile of mess, shaking his head, looking like he was about to hyperventilate. "This is not good," said Kusuo, "This is so not good."

"What's so not good," asked Risa.

Kusuo squinted his eyes shut , "My limiters. The one that erases ESP temporarily, along with the spare limiters that I use now. They were in my desk drawers," Kusuo took a few seconds to breath before he continued. "A few days ago, I was at a fire. Things were going bad and I was in such a hurry to leave that I was not careful with teleportation. I accidentally apported all this crap back with me so my desk was apported to that damn office fire."

"Laws of equal exchange," muttered Risa.

Kusuo did not disagree. "I've just gone to check. The fire had completely leveled the building. The rubble is still warm. I've looked and looked with x-ray vision and clairvoyance." Kusuo shook his head, as if such act could stop the reality.

"I'm certain that those limiters have been destroyed." Kusuo did not utter the next thought. And without Kuusuke, there won't be anyone to fix the current one or create new ones.

Kusuo really was screwed.

Chapter Text

Risa was looking at her nearly-adult, pink-haired grandson with a mixture of puzzlement, amazement and fear.

-Effortless levitation! Psychokinesis!- thought Risa.

He was the epitome of the impossible. Such raw power, neatly packaged into an eye-catching, but unassuming human vessel. After so many generations, the family's esper curse, flashover in childhood, had been broken. To think it occurred in her bloodline, as an offspring of Kuniharu, was a matter of surprise.

Perhaps Kuniharu's incredible luck was rubbing off. He had the pleasure of being born to her, meeting his soul mate Kurumi, and having extraordinary children whom he relied upon to meet the challenges of daily life. Perhaps it was his luck that broke the curse?

Right now, this said grandson was floating in midair, taking deep breaths like a mix of fabled mountain guru and a sprinter, wind whipping about him. He was in deep distress over the presumed loss of devices called "limiters." It seemed like they were items that controlled ESP. Perhaps she could prevail upon him as to the manufacturer of these products. In her studies as a doctor, a scientist, and a mild psychic, she had thought such triumph of science over ESP was insurmountable.

Good. He came down from the air and seemed to have smoothed over whatever troubling realization that disturbed his inner stability. The feeling of deep seated sadness seemed to have been bulldozed over by annoyance. It seemed like a forced protective measure, to maintain emotional balance. Risa had done the same herself in the course of her life as a professional in a field dominated by men, to overcome the terrible tragedies of her personal life. Protection and training of the mind had always been the first priority of their family.

And to think this particular esper was never formally trained, and was still able to maintain such superb control. This impossible result placed significant doubt on traditional wisdom.

Kusuo glared at the detritus of the Cambridge office building fire. One concluding thought in mind.

-I'm going to kill Kuusuke in the next life.-

Kusuo crossed his arms as he stared at the space where his desk was previously, smoldering ire just beneath the surface of his being.

After reviewing the events of the past week, Kusuo was certain that he was being played with.

First, his head had to be killing him on the day of mid-terms.

Then grandpa had to get a stroke.

Then he had to trouble Aiura and now had to owe her a favor.

Then Kuusuke had to die on him.

Then his psychic powers had to refuse to gave him the one thing he absolutely needed.

Then his mother had to freak out because she thought her baby boy almost died.

Then he learned that was likely true, that he should have never lived this long because the expectation was that he should have spontaneously combusted ages ago if not for the coincidental usage of the limiters.

Then Kusuo realized that all the spare limiters that should have lasted him a lifetime were destroyed at the Cambridge office building fire because he was so distraught at the time that he was not as careful with teleportation. This fact just had to be conveniently revealed itself, right after he learned just how critical the limiters were to his own self-preservation.

Which circled back to the fact that there was no one else reliable who can create new limiters, or fix the current ones.

Nothing he had done so far with his psychic powers was going to change that progression because he could not bring back his older brother.

And no, he was not about to test whether the 'spontaneous human combustion' part as described by recently no-so-estranged grandmother was true. That did not seem like something he should attempt verifying.

Considering how perfectly disastrous the past week had been, to the point of a comedic tragedy, Kusuo could only think of two entities who could be responsible, God and Kuusuke.

God was responsible for a lot of bad. The constant bombardment of people's ugliness due to the impossibility of shutting off his telepathy and x-ray vision were a couple of bad things. Having to suffer and try tremendously to appear normal was another one. Not ever getting his way on his quest for a quiet day, which was rare enough as it is, was a constant reminder that prayers do not work.

Kusuo's perennial bad luck had to the results of God being a sadist.

But only Kuusuke could execute such a perfect catastrophe.

All of this had to be Kuusuke's fault.

Kuusuke must be toying with him from beyond the grave. That sadomasochist must have cackled the entire time when he was thinking up the ways to forever needle his younger brother as a parting gift, starting by giving Kusuo the worst week ever. That would fit Kuusuke's style of the worst older brother in the history of the universe.

Because if all of this misfortune was not the result of Kuusuke being a jerk this entire time, Kusuo was going to have a complete mental breakdown.

Kuusuke, he could beat up and win. With Kuusuke, there was still a measure of control over his disastrous life.

And Kuusuke was no longer around for him to exercise control.

'If I'm not laughing, I'd be crying?' Isn't that how the saying goes?

Kusuo slumped in his desk chair, eyes still gazing at the debris from Cambridge, trying to make sense of what had occurred in recent times.

Of the things that the unintentional apportation of things could have been exchanged, it had to be his psychic canceler and the third-generation limiters. Was there even monetary value to limiters? What could even be equal value to the limiters? Was it worth as much as a child's wooden block creations, considering that they were handmade per imagination? Or was it in the trillions of yen? Because the combined intelligence of the scientists and researchers in the world were not smart enough to match Kuusuke's genius? How much was that labor even worth?

Finally, Kusuo decided that he should not try to understand the reasons behind the sequence of events any longer or he was going to do something he was going to regret later out of frustration, just like how he unintentionally destroyed those limiters due to carelessness.

"What a shitty week," uttered Kusuo to no one in particular. It didn't matter if the neighbors had heard him; the neighbors were always saying those words and would likely think that they were echoing their own sentiments.

At this point, he would rather listen to nonstop gossip from Yumehara or grandiose Dark Reunion schemes from Kaido. He would risk the bugs of the farm by going potato digging with Mera and Akechi. Heck, he would entertain weeklong tennis camp with Hairo, or a gang takeover with Kuboyasu. He would go on another cruise with Saiko and have Takahashi to come along. He would even go to porn shop with Toritsuka or a have a double date with Teruhashi and Aiura. Ramen with Nendo at seemed like a wet dream by comparison to right now.

When was the last time he even had a chance to say 'good grief?'

"I don't even care anymore."

Grandmother Risa upon him sympathetically. "I understand that learning all of this is hard. Flashover and its inevitability are difficult concepts to accept."

Kusuo shook his head again. He was so irritated by everything that had happened. How was this the karmic payback for saving the world so many goddamn times? And why were people still not listening to him? Why did people still fill in the spaces with words they thought he said.

"Did you not hear me?" he snapped. "It's been a shitty week. Everything started going to hell long before you've shown up with even more shitty news."

Risa easily pressed down the automatic response of verbally putting a disrespectful young man in his place. She had seen this type of reaction in patients that she had to tell that their diagnosis would result in a time-clock being placed on their life. Of course, a person would be upset.

"You're still alive," reminded Risa encouragingly. "You've been able to beat the fate of everyone before you. You've lived nearly twice the lifetime of the previous record. It's a God-given miracle."

"So what? It still doesn't change the fact the fate of all esper in the family is flashover." Kusuo closed his eyes and thought back at the brief time when he thought his psychic powers were erased. If he had taken Kuusuke's advice back at the beginning of the school term to 'take it easy,' would all of this have been avoided? If he had waited for his body to devolve back into a normal person, would that had prevented this, somehow?

In exchange for a world devastated by the meteor?

Could Kuusuke had done something about the meteor without Kusuo's psychic powers?

Likely.

Actually, definitely.

No. The part where Kuusuke forced dad into a body armor was not it.

Kuusuke had always been capable. But how would he had delt with it?

The feeling of 'something' was there again.

What was that 'something?'

It felt eerily familiar, like Kusuo's passive suggestion to everyone that a guy who wore antennas and green sunglasses was completely normal. That 'something' had always been on the subtle edge where the normal blended into the abnormal.

Suddenly, a conversation Kusuo had with his older brother came to mind, when he had received his first-generation limiter and wondered what the right antenna was. What about that interaction that never caught his parent's attention?

"That includes you, doesn't it?" asked Kusuo of his grandmother, trying to think through the words that were not said. "You will flashover one day, too."

"Yes," confirmed Risa without hesitation. "It's the Saiki family curse. All espers will flashover." Risa took a breath. "Some of us never knew it's a possibility because their psychic manifestations are passive or ineffectual. We only realize it afterward, when we examine the evidence."

"So you're saying that even dad might flashover too." Kusuo thought about the fact that mom's maiden name was also Saiki, the same characters and everything. Considering how rare the family name was in the first place, mom and dad might have been very distantly related. "Maybe even mom."

"It's a possibility," Risa speculated. "Both of them had been far luckier than most, enough to afford costly self-indulgence so maybe an element of ESP is there? But I would not be concerned. The age of flashover is inversely correlated with power. It's why your diviners, spirit mediums, live the normal lifespan. It's always been ones like you who had the significantly shortened life span.

"I suspect that I will live another good twenty years, likely more, barring life-threatening injury and illness, that is. No different than a normal person," Risa's lips twisted in sardonic irony, "It's likely to save on cremation cost. Flashover does not leave bodies."

Kusuo thought back to Kuusuke again. To his recollection, the room that he found Kuusuke in was not even on fire, just everything around it. The memories on the ring, of the fate of Miha and Kasei, were the same as what Kusuo had witnessed in the Cambridge office building fire.

-So that's what happened,- realized Kusuo.

Things began to click into place.

Risa looked at Kusuo probingly. Her newly discovered grandson seemed suddenly amazingly calm. She wanted to reach out and touch him, not just the gentle brush to confirm the truth of his impossible existence, but truly see what he was thinking.

"You've said that telepathy against telepathy creates blind spots," said Kusuo.

The older woman nodded. "Yes. It's the reason why I'm not having a pure telepathic conversation with you right now. You are a very powerful telepath and can broadcast continuously. But I cannot, and so much can be lost in between. Where are you going with this?"

Kusuo thought back to when he received his first limiter again, the unspoken truths in the interaction from back in fifth grade suddenly became so clear.

In light of Kusuo's pervasive telepathy, even if its incredible range was giving him memory problems that year, it should have been impossible for Kuusuke to attach the booby-trap antenna. Kusuo would have known and stopped its installation.

As for telepathy blind spots, it would explain why Kuusuke had been a nonstop chatterbox for as long as Kusuo could remember, often narrating Kusuo's thoughts for others to hear. It was not because Kuusuke loved to hear the sound of his own voice; it had been because he did not want to miss interpret Kusuo's thoughts.

The ridiculousness of Kuusuke's invention, the telepathy canceler, suddenly seemed far more practical. The telepathy canceler was never meant to prevent Kusuo from hearing his older brother's thoughts. It had always been the opposite. It was meant to prevent intruding thoughts, similar to the germanium ring, but with the added benefit of preventing the broadcasting of thoughts. More specifically, it prevented the usage of telepathy, from which derivatives high psychic skillsets like hypnosis and mind control.

Which led to the next realization.

"You've said that there's a pervasive mind control here," Kusuo reasoned to Risa, "Something subtle, something that permeates everything."

"Yes. I was surprised to know that you haven't noticed it this entire time." she gazed upon him, probingly "What are you driving at?"

Kusuo suddenly thought about the strangeness of his near only child existence, about how little his parents thought about Kuusuke. Sure, as children Kuusuke had made a point to be outside the house until bodily needs like eating and sleeping beckoned him home. There were other mysterious absences too. But the rest of the family never once worried, the family always felt 100 percent confident that Kuusuke was doing well. Heck, even during the years that Kuusuke was studying in the United Kingdom, no one seemed to remember Kuusuke until the Kusuo's limiter broke.

When they visited the grandpa Kumagorou and grandpa Kumi, they did not even ask about how Kuusuke was doing. It was like something was preventing them from thinking about the eldest son, traditionally one of the most important people in a patrilineal society.

Kusuo did recall Kuusuke on the drama-filled drive to the train station. Kusuo had been trying to recall why such an important fact as psychic powers was deliberately kept from their maternal grandparents. It had been because someone said that their maternal grandparents would have a heart attack if they found out that Kusuo was such a 'monster.' That someone had been Kuusuke.

Kuusuke had convinced their parents to keep the fact a secret.

No. Not convinced.

More like their parents obeyed. The excuse was added as a plausible justification.

Their parents obeyed their nine-year-old eldest son, whom they barely thought of. They did not even reprimand Kuusuke for calling Kusuo a 'monster.' Kusuo went along with the reasoning, never once questioned it until now.

"That mind control had always been there, before I was born," said Kusuo.

So many inexplicable interactions and reactions suddenly made so much more sense. Kuusuke had gotten away with saying and doing a lot of despicable things, boldly, without remorse. It was so strong that even Kusuo had been affected. So strong that Kusuo, a person who hated to be indebted to people, never felt any debt owed to Kuusuke for creating the limiters.

"It's the reason why mom and dad were never surprised with what I did," realized Kusuo. "It's because Ani didn't want them to be. It's still working, even now."

Risa frowned deeply. "I don't understand. Who are you referring to?"

Kusuo was not certain how to react to all of this.

How terrifying, seeing that Risa had begun to forget too, while Kusuo was finally able to fight it.

"I'm starting to see it now because it's starting to fade, very faintly," Kusuo cradled his shaking head, not thinking about Risa's question. "And flashover is the reason I cannot change his fate. It's the reason I cannot bring him back. It's why it's so permanent, no matter what I did."

Risa frowned even more. So many mixed emotions. So much deep sadness, anguish, confusion, and most of all, ire. She would had touched him to learn the truth, except she noted that Kusuo's hair was still lightly waving from moving the air in the room by psychokinesis. Kusuo was itching to use his ESP to destroy something.

-Good grief.-

So much of it was still Kuusuke's fault.

That conniving asshole.

- I'm going to so kill him in the next life.-

Kusuo sat back up on the chair. He took a deep breath, calming his thoughts, stopping the wind in the room. "I think I am ready to tell mom and dad, now."

Chapter Text

Kaido Aoi, the fearsome mother of Shun, Sora and Toki, pushed the shopping cart with purpose.

Her husband was coming home from a long business trip tonight, finally spending the weekend with the family. As a businesswoman, a perfect wife, and a tiger mom, she was determined to have that perfect picturesque weekend with the family. She already completed the special project for work, started her beauty regiment, started the slow cooker, chilled the desserts and now its time to get the rest of the ingredients and tools for the perfect dinner.

It had been a relatively good day so far, baring the threatening overcast sky. It finally stopped raining, which was good. The local public works department was getting worried about the reservoir getting too high and water levels breaching the river levees. Most of the local TV stations were covering the strange weather patterns, mostly blaming it on countries that ignored things like climate change.

Shun came home with the good news that he made it into the top 25 places for midterms, for which Aoi rewarded Shun with a faint smile of approval and an extra wad of cash. Shun didn't seem too happy about it, the grade ranking part. Aoi chalked it up as Shun finally learned to be gracefully mum about academic success. He was not very good about reacting to such news gracefully before.

Her two other children, Sora and Toki were doing well academically too, easily scoring in the top quartile in their respective school grades. These test scores had pleased her, and would well please her husband.

Still, Shun worried Aoi the most. He was the eldest, and therefore, so much of the family's respectability, her own reputation as a mom, and her husband's approval of the family, rode on Shun's diligence in his studies. Shun was not a big kid, so he had to depend on academics to shine and stand out. Aoi spent the most time and money on his education with, extra workbooks, cram school and reinforced strict study times. Shun had to set a good example for his younger siblings.

"Go get these things, Shun-kun," said Aoi as she handed her eldest a list. She would have Sora with her, since Sora was far more detail-oriented. Sora was at a school club, though, much to Aoi's approval. Of the three children, Sora was the most self-motivated, with her sight set on Todai (1). Toki just entered third grade and went over to a friend's house to work on a project, so he said. That just left Shun to help her.

Shun just had midterms, so his cram school went on a week intermission. This usually meant that Shun took the opportunity to squirrel himself away to wherever with his guy friends. The week-long rain seemed to put a damper on whatever hangout activities he and friends usually did, though. The usual group seemed to be missing someone, too, so Shun came home earlier and wasted his time on some online role playing game.

So Aoi suggested to Shun that he should come along on the shopping trip. Unoccupied young men tend to spell mischief. Shun was trained well enough not to say 'no' or show exactly how he felt about shopping with his mother.

With Shun going after the random ingredients, it freed Aoi to study the vegetable, fresh meat and adult beverage options. Her husband was a high-powered businessman who had eaten at a lot of fine dining establishments in his pursuit to seal the deal. Aoi was up to the challenge. No three-star Michelin star restaurant was going to best the most perfect woman and wife in the world.

She was looking at the vegetable options when she noticed a familiar short young-looking brunette hanging out near the fruits.

"Oh! Hey! Kurumi-san!" called Aoi, pleasantly surprised.

Kurumi looked up from the packages of umeboshi. She had a basket in the crook of her arm. "Oh! Hey. Kaido-san!" exclaimed Kurumi.

Aoi flicked her pale hair away from her face. "Oh, please. Call me Aoi. We're friends, aren't we?"

Kurumi beamed at Aoi's blithe declaration of friendship.

"What are you shopping for, Aoi-san? This is a lot." asked Kurumi, looking at the cart full of expensive ingredients already. Was that a waffle iron? Since when did people have space for those things?

"Oh, my husband is coming home for the weekend," said Aoi happily. She did love her husband, despite his awful attitude and temper. He did give her three sweet, beautiful children and was a good provider. "I want to go all out before he goes on his next business trip. What about you? What are you shopping for?"

Kurumi smiled, "Oh, something fancy. My mother-in-law is in town. I think she's staying for dinner so I want to pick up some extra stuff. I hope to impress her, you know."

Aoi could appreciate that. Mother-in-laws were the final boss for any daughter-in-law. Aoi herself was harangued through the difficulty of obtaining approval from the dreaded mother in law; winning the approval, and thus getting more love from the husband, was one of the reasons why Aoi tried her damnest to be the best at whatever she puts her mind to.

Presently, Aoi allowed herself to take a peek at Kurumi's grocery basket, too trying to see if there are any suggestions to give.

There was not a lot in Kurumi's grocery basket. There was a bottle of extra fancy plum wine, certain market deli items like seaweed salad and sushi, but there were also natto, furikake, fresh ginger, green onions, a bottle of multi-vitamins and anti-inflammatory medication.

"Is someone sick?" asked Aoi. She was a well-studied woman. Kurumi did seem a bit more tense than usual and the basket ingredients simply screamed 'kayu,' the traditional meal for the infirm.

Before, Kurumi could answer, Shun came back, his hands full of sauce and flavoring packets.

"Hey, mom, I got these things on the list," peeped Shun from behind Kurumi. "Oh! It's Saiki's mom!"

Shun seemed to be flustered for a moment before he bowed politely to Kurumi and uttered traditional greetings, as expected of a proper young man raised by the strict and proper Kaido Aoi herself.

Kurumi smiled encouragingly at her baby boy's friend. "You don't have to be so formal, Shun-kun. We're not strangers. You came over for New Year, remember?"

"And he was a most respectful young man," Aoi interjected, looking at her suddenly awkward son with suspicion. "Right?"

"Of course. He was the very soul of courtesy," said Kurumi, saving Shun from an immediate death by a thousand glares.

Aoi seemed visibly relieved, but still eyed Shun from the corner of her eye, as if trying to confirm the corroboration of the story by Shun's expression.

Shun, himself, was on a separate mission. "Saiki-san," Shun addressed Kurumi politely. "Is Saiki-kun okay? He hasn't been in school for almost a week. We've heard something about his grandparents?"

For a moment, Kurumi frowned, frozen in place, not certain how to answer. The direct answer was "no, not really. Saiki-kun is not okay." She clearly remembered bawling her eyes out, scared out of her wits, thinking that her son might not wake up again. Her boy's ESP had not been this unstable since 5th grade. Despite having Risa, an actual trained medical doctor, to look at Ku-chan, Kurumi just did not feel as comfortable as she would have been if it was Ku-kun who was watching over Ku-chan.

Her father was doing well, as far as Kurumi knew. That was another worry too, though. She had been so focused on Ku-chan that she had not checked on her father for a couple of days.

She did notice how her silence affected Shun, who seemed to be mentally going through iterations of horrible scenarios that afflicted his friend, each one worse than the previous.

Presently she said to Shun, "Oh. Ku-chan is at home. We were busy earlier in the week with my father's health scare, but then Ku-chan's gotten the stomach flu and a bad fever. I think he's okay now, though."

"Oh. Great. That's great to hear," said Shun. He quickly whipped out his phone and send a long, extended text to a group chat.

"Shun! Where are your manners?" Aoi scolded. Young people these days, daring to be so disrespectful in front of their elders by paying attention to their phones instead of giving full attention. And seriously, did Shun even understood what he just said?

"Sorry mom," Shun quickly apologized before hitting send. Then he remembered what he had actually said to his best friend's mother and how poor his response was. "I didn't mean what I just said. I mean, Sorry Saiki-san. It's not that it's great that Saiki-kun is sick." muttered Shun as he fumbled with his phone, sticky fingers almost dropping the device. Whatever the message was, it seemed mighty important to the young man. "And I'm sorry about Saiki-kun's grandpa. I mean, it's not great that grandpa was in trouble...I mean..."

"Shun! What's going on with you?" said Aoi with a frown, very much surprised at how Shun was completely botching what should have been a straightforward meeting and small talk with mom's friend.

Kurumi waved the perceived insult away. "Oh. It's okay, Aoi-san, Shun-kun. It's not a big deal. Shun-kun is a socialable young man." She steadily observed Shun's distraction with the phone as the phone dinged to indicate incoming messages. "You know, I wish Ku-chan would join the 21st century sometimes. He rarely initiates or responds to text or phone calls." She did not mention the part where he usually did get back to her, almost always telepathically. As for initiation, he had always made it so that his interaction with people would be as brief as possible, usually by taking care of whatever people wanted out of him first before they asked.

Now, Shun was socially unaware, but not technically unaware. Shun caught on quickly something very interesting. "So...Saiki has a cellphone?"

Kurumi nodded confidently. "Uh-huh. He got one beginning of the school year. "

Shun seemed suddenly very interested, like he just happened upon some sweet cash on the side of the street.

"Do you want his number?" Kurumi asked.

Stars began to shine in Shun's eyes. "Oh yes!"

Aoi, not so subtly, jabbed Shun's chest and said from the corner of her lips. "Shun! Is that how we ask nicely?"

"I mean, Yes, please, Saiki-san? I would be honored to have his number," Shun, added. He was way too distracted by his sudden change in luck to notice that his ribs might be bruised from his mother's stern disapproval of his lack of social grace. Broken ribs mattered less than getting the elusive cellphone number of his laconic friend.

Kurumi unconsciously smiled at the Kaido mother and son interaction before her as she took out her phone. What a different, yet similar family dynamic. Ku-chan could be so unsociably rude and unwelcoming to people, but still immediately adjusted his behavior as soon as Kurumi twitched an eyebrow. It was nice that they live in this area with such good wholesome normal people.

Kurumi took a moment to check the messages section first when she took out her phone, just in case her phone was acting up. Her expression darkened for a brief moment.

Still no response from Ku-kun.

Suppressing the deep churning in her heart and in the pits of her stomach, she tapped the phone again to find Ku-chan's number and showed it to Shun.

"Here it is," said Kurumi.

It took a while for Shun to add the number, as his cellphone began vibrating like it was experiencing a massive earthquake. It was funny to watch the young man frantically scroll through the messages, hanging up on phone calls. Kurumi wondered exactly what Shun had messaged to his friends that caused an avalanche of text and phone calls.

The interplay of facial expression on Shun was fascinating to watch as he tried to quickly read through the messages. He was smiling, grimacing, shaking his head, eyes almost bugged out. He started tapping out a message before another message interrupted his flow. The young man certainly had a lot of friends.

"Well, come along, Shun," said Aoi to her son, "We still have quite a bit of things to get. Your father would want to celebrate you getting into the top 25." Aoi could not help but say the ranking a little louder. Like all moms, Aoi did not mind bragging a little bit.

Kurumi automatically looked at Shun with a beaming smile. "Oh wow! Top 25!" she exclaimed. "Congratulations, Shun-kun! That's great! You must've worked really hard. I'm happy for you!"

Shun visibly blushed. He scratched the back of his hand, a little embarrassed at such open and naked praise from Saiki's mom. He didn't get that from his own mother. "Well, Saiki-kun did great too," Shun mentioned, before he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Like, really great."

"That's right, how did your boy do, Kurumi?" asked Aoi offhandedly, completely ignoring what her son just said. She was honestly quite interested, since children's academic success is how moms are graded.

"Mum!" This time, it was Shun who admonished his mother. "Saiki hasn't been at school to see the results."

Aoi dismissed such talks. "Kurumi-san, surely you have a good guess as to how your son did. You're his mother, after all. How do you think he did?"

"Um...average? I guess?" said Kurumi, confessing her ignorance.

Shun gave Kurumi a weird look, but was occupied by the 'dinging' noises coming from his phone again. It looked like he did not turn off all the notifications correctly, and was busily hitting his phone and making faces.

"Don't kid," said Aoi. She recalled how easily Nendo-kun and Saiki-kun were able to so quickly finish those workbooks. They could only do so if they have someone pushing them to do extra homework. "How do you think he did?"

Meanwhile, Kurumi shrugged her shoulders and held out her hands in the universal gesture of 'I-don't-know.'

"You're serious?" A disgusted expression was on Aoi's face when she saw that Kurumi was not kidding. "You cannot be serious!"

"Well, Ku-chan keeps to himself," explained Kurumi, looking a little bit embarrassed and slightly awkward. She really did not know how her children did on anything academic in recent time. Both did well back in elementary school. Then both stopped showing their report cards at about the same time, right after Kusuo transferred schools between second and third grade. She was certain that they forged the parents' signatures. She turned a blind eye to such mischief, since academic achievement was a useless measure when it came to her children. "He goes from grade to grade without problems, so he must be doing okay."

"But you must know how well he's doing, right?" asked Aoi.

"Well, no, not academically," answered Kurumi honestly. "Ku-chan takes after his older brother, you know. They're both pretty smart, self-sufficient, and get super cranky if you get into their business without being invited."

"So you're really hands off," concluded Aoi.

Kurumi nodded. "As long as they're happy and not getting into bad stuff, we've always let them do their thing."

Aoi seemed to consider that as a possible explanation.

To be honest, she always thought that Kusuo had to be the gloomiest young man she had ever met. It was like that frown was permanently stitched on his face. He seemed to be always either glaring at something or spacing out, like he was constantly preoccupied by unpleasant thoughts. It was impossible to tell whether he was feeling all times. He mood seemed to improve, and only mildly, when served snack foods. He was going to have a mandatory attitude adjustment if he was to continue being a sour-puss.

As for Kurumi's oldest, Aoi recalled the brief conversation she had with him when he offered to show Shun, a perspective student due to the cram school Shun attended, around Cambridge University, all-expense paid, of course. Aoi felt that she was being scammed and started asking about the details like logistics and what they would be doing. That smooth-as-butter voice went on full charm, playing into Aoi's greatest desire for Shun, a good college and being set for life. As persuasive as he was, Aoi could tell that he was similarly preoccupied by a separate motivation.

Both of Kurumi's children did seem like the type of people who kept to the background, with that mysterious air, eternally distracted by one thing or another. Naturally, super-smart people were like that, Aoi supposed. It made Aoi appreciate Shun, for being so gentle, creative and lively. She get the sense that Kurumi was secretly saddened by her children's aloofness.

"Well, your oldest is a genius among geniuses," muttered Aoi. "Is he still studying abroad?"

"No. Ku-kun came home last year," said Kurumi.

"Oh. What's he doing now?"

"I think he's a scientist, with a business on the side," said Kurumi.

The business part interested Aoi. "Oh yeah. What's the business?"

Kurumi thought about it. Kuusuke had told her, in-depth, one time when he took her and Kuniharu around Cambridge, showing them his lab, his work. Like any son, he had wanted his parents to be proud of him. At the time, Kuusuke said a lot of words that seemed to impress Kuniharu, but Kurumi herself did not fully understand. Kuusuke did seem content when he talked about his work and its peripheral relationship with his studies.

The most Kurumi remembered out of that London trip, outside the rare extended alone time she had with her husband, was how tall Kuusuke had gotten. When she last saw Kuusuke at fourteen, he was shorter than her, the top of his head right at her eye level. The four years passed and barely a peep from him. Then he was suddenly taller than Kuniharu, his voice deeper. She recalled the bittersweet feeling as she looked up at him, having missed out on watching her big baby grow into a fine-looking young man. He had assured her, like he always did, that she had missed nothing and that everything is alright.

"I think it's Psi Industries," said Kurumi, finally remembering the name of the business that he started.

Aoi's eyes almost jumped out of their sockets. "Psi Industries? The Psi Industries? The company that was rising so fast that the business analyst thinks that they'll be on par with the Saiko Group in ten years? The one that just had a massive fire at their headquarters in Cambridge?" Aoi did not even wait for Kurumi to respond. "Wait. Don't tell me. You don't even know if it's that Psi Industries."

Kurumi gave a guilty look.

At that, Aoi shook her head and laughed. There was no way that such a big fact would escape that happy-go-lucky Kurumi. "Of course not. It could not be that Psi Industries. That would make him one of the wealthiest men in the country. Even if it's that company, he must be just working for them, not own them." Aoi decided that she really should get back to being the perfect wife and finish shopping for the ingredients. Comparing herself to her mom friends had turned out to be more stressful than expected. "Well, we have more groceries to get. Come along, Shun."

Her son, Shun, who had been mostly forgotten and completely focused on his phone, dared to hold up a finger in the universal gesture for 'wait.' "Just a sec, mom," said Shun.

The gesture miffed Aoi, but she let it slide, for now, since she was in front of her friend.

"Saiki-san," Shun addressed Kurumi again, with his utmost polite tone. "Uh, the guys are wondering if we can come visit Saiki-kun, tomorrow. I mean, we're pretty worried about him. He's been out for almost a week. He looked pretty green during mid-terms."

Normally, Kurumi would have been overly thrilled that Ku-chan had so many friends and they wanted to come over and spend time with him. But she shook her head. Ku-chan had just woken up from what was obviously a problem with his ESP. She was surprised that the only thing that went weird was the stuff in Ku-chan's room. No, she was not about to risk visitors right now, not until Ku-kun said it was okay again. "No. I'm sorry. He needs to rest."

The young man visibly deflated at that, and the end of his lips turned down and his thoughts obviously turned to the tragic. He seemed like the type of young man who thought only the worst possible, obviously a thought tendency that he picked up from his highly reactive mother.

"I'll let him know that you're asking after him," Kurumi placated. "He should be going back to school next week."

It was like watching a roller coaster's up and down, Shun immediately brightened, and quickly tapped a message on his phone. "Well, Yumehara has his homework sheets. Can we at least drop them off?"

Oh. Homework sheets. Kurumi did recall seeing the size A-4 papers being stuffed in the mailbox, several sheets a day. She had not shown them to Ku-chan yet, figuring that homework was probably the last thing on his mind.

"Of course."

--

Coincidentally, Aoi saw Kurumi again at the checkout line. Kurumi was in a separate line and Aoi was behind and could see Kurumi, but Kurumi could not see her.

This time, there was a bespeckled middle-aged man with Kurumi. The way he touched Kurumi was a little inappropriate for public display, but Kurumi seemed to oblige happily. The brunette's smile was genuine, and completely at ease. It made Aoi feel a little jealous. Her own husband had not been that lovey-dovey with her in ages. Conspirationally, Aoi tapped her son's shoulder and asked "Who's that?"

"Who?" Shun's eyes momentarily darted up from his phone.

"That auburn-haired man next to Kurumi."

Shun looked up from his phone and actually looked. "Oh, that's Saiki's dad. Saiki Kuniharu."

Aoi tilted her head a little bit as she studied the couple. "They don't look all that much alike, do they?"

"Who?"

"Kusuo-kun and his father," said Aoi. She clearly recalled the few times that Kusuo had come over and how she was quite surprised to learn that quiet young man was Kurumi's son. Now, having seen the father, the difference is even more striking.

"Nah. Their faces are similar enough. It's just the hair color that's all different," muttered Shun, still looking at the phone. "You should see Saiki's older brother. It's like abandon all concept of genetics with them."

Aoi was getting a little more than annoyed with her son being so adsorbed in the phone. "What's up with you and your phone that you have to look at it?"

"Just chatting with friends," said Shun.

"About what?"

"Nothing," he said unhelpfully.

Without ceremony, Aoi swiped the phone from Shun.

"Hey! That's private!" cried Shun.

Aoi completely ignored him. She was a mother and she had a right to review his online activities to make sure that he wasn't into nefarious activities. A couple of his friends, Nendo and Kuboyasu, did look like they legit belonged to a yakuza. She had to protect her boy from bad influence.

It was a group chat, full of names that Aoi had heard of on and off. Most of the messages were directives to Shun, telling him to ask Saiki's mom about 'this and that,' generally towards asking what happened to Saiki. Shun's parroting of Kurumi's response in the chat set off a storm of sad-face emojis and another set of question directives.

Once Shun told them that Saiki's mom said that Saiki would come back next week, there was another flood of emojis, mostly hearts, thumbs-up, and smilies. The group hatched a plan for a get together at a cafe or go to one of the hangout places at a neighboring town when Saiki comes back to school. Shun was telling the group that he would use his mid-term cash to pay for Saiki's snacks as a lure, which prompted a bunch of one on one messages from a "Teruhashi" suggesting that Shun should do the same for a "Yumehara." Shun had sworn, in a text, that 'upon his honor as a man' that he would do as Teruhashi command.

From there, the message turned into a sort of jokey mess of spurious topics. They schemed that they'll have to copy homework from a "Hairo" for which one of the responses was "fat chance," and "he doesn't get full marks on homework like Saiki." There was a movie day in the works, a school skip day, and an ouija session. Then Shun began to message the group about the secret gathering of the "Dark Reunion" and the resurrection of the most perfect "Jet Black Wings."

Shun snatched his phone back from his mother before she could read further. "Don't read that!" His face was turning red from obvious embarrassment.

Aoi allowed such snatching without comment. She was simply relieved that most of the text was just a bunch of friends clowning around, asking after each other, and planning activities together. Aoi, being high strung, was imagining things like drug dealing or some sort of debt scamming scheme.

"Why are you always like this?" Shun asked with a frown, obviously upset. He turned off his phone, partially from embarrassment and partially from having his privacy so overtly invaded.

Aoi did not appreciate the backtalk. Was this the fabled teenage rebellion?

"Like what, Specifically?" she challenged.

Normally, Shun would have backed down. Aoi was his mother, and he naturally did as she asked. He was a good big brother who understood that he had to set a good example for his siblings. She was only doing what she thought was good for him. This time, though, she's been more than controlling. "You're always telling me what to do. When to study. What to eat. Where to go. What to say. How to behave. What friends to have. Why can't you be more like Saiki's mom and let me be?"

"Because I care about you and your future, Shun," said Aoi easily. "Your friends do not care whether you're homeless or dead on the side of the street. They don't care if you can be self-sufficient in the future. I care. I want the best for you and I think the best is for you to be pushed to excel. You don't know how competitive it is out there."

Shun was barely listening to her. He had heard the same excuses over the years and had always done what she said because she had put the fear of the nebulous future into him. It was part of the reason why he indulged in concepts of the Dark Reunion. Fake shadowy organization threatening to take over the world was far easier to deal with than this frightening future of inescapable corporate drudgery.

"My friends do care about me!" Shun defended. "Nendo actually trusts and respects my opinion. Saiki helps me out with homework, explains things to me, and listens to me. Kuboyasu looks out for me and invites me to do things. Hairo always includes me in school activities. Saiko rebuit his house so we can fun at his place. They don't care about what I can do for them or how accomplished I am going to be in the future. They care about me and accept me as I am now."

"Well, that's just silly-" Aoi began.

"There you go again!" Shun interrupted her. "Why do you have to criticize everything? My friends don't put me down as much as you do. Even Saiki's mom is happier about how I did on mid-terms than you. And you're my mother! How come I'm never good enough for you?"

Aoi sucked in a breath, readying a vituperation so fierce that it was bound to blister the skin off his flesh. The young man needed to be put into his place and now.

"You know what? You're just going to tell me how wrong I am. How I don't study hard enough. How I play too many games. How I need to be fixed. You've already told me thousands of times. You don't love me. You love what you think you can make me into. You know what? I'm going to go stay with a friend for a few days. At least I'm good enough for them." Shun was already walking away. "Tell dad I said hi."

Aoi was angry. More than angry. How dare this selfish young man turned his back on her. She had given up so much for him. She had given up her flaming hot career, her independence, her smoking habit, chained herself to a man who was obviously more in love with his professional attainment than her, changed her entire life to give him life. To have all that effort be wasted by this one rebellious act was worse than a slap in the face.

"Kaido Shun! Don't you dare walk away from me!"

The words only made Shun run toward the door.

She would have chased after him, if not for her cart full of groceries and good social graces that demanded that she pay for the groceries. By now, she had gotten the attention of everyone at the checkout line and she felt compelled to keep the situation under control. No silly running toward the door after a silly young man for a dignified woman like her.

Emotions ran in Aoi. Embarrassment, guilt, anger. There was a surprising amount of hurt, too. How dare that thankless child accuse her of not loving him? She gave up everything for him.

She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from crying. How did such an innocent activity like a shopping trip devolve into such terrible confrontation?

How was she going to have her perfect family weekend now?

Chapter Text

"Ku-chan! We're home!" called Kurumi the moment she walked into the door.

It's been such a nice day so far. Ku-chan got up and looked a lot better. They had a very nice late lunch. Mother-in-law Risa did not say a mean word to her. It stopped raining. Kuniharu's hands were given the 100 percent 'okay' from the doctor. Aoi-san declared irrevocably that Kurumi was a friend.

It did seem like Aoi-san was having trouble with Shun-kun, judging by how quickly Shun-kun walked out the door, past Kurumi who just paid for her groceries. Kurumi would have to mention this later to Ku-chan a little bit later. Kurumi was certain that such a nice, proper young man like Shun-kun would make up with Aoi-san. But it probably wouldn't hurt if Ku-chan nudged Shun-kun in the right direction.

As Kurumi removed her shoes and placed them in the shoe cupboard, she thought momentarily of Kuusuke and how she wished that he was here, sharing this reconciliation with their father's mother.

Ku-kun's silence was still disturbing to her but Kurumi tried not to think too hard about it. She would not want to trouble Ku-kun any more than they already had if it turned out to be nothing, as it always had been. Ku-kun was always so busy with one thing or another and always took care of things. Life had been peaceful, despite the unusualness of their family.

That's right. That must be it. Ku-kun was just busy.

Kuniharu followed in closely behind his wife, carrying a couple of bags of groceries. His mind was on someone else. "Mother, we're back," he called, "Are you still around?"

The couple's questions were not answered, but that was not unusual in the Saiki family.

Kusuo was a psychic. He would have known that his parents were coming home and would sometime make himself scarce, or just hide in his room. Still, Kusuo was a well-taught young man, with full understanding of etiquette and generally followed expected decorum. He had not wordlessly runoff in a long time.

As it turned out, both Kusuo and Risa were still around. The two, grandmother and grandson, were sitting around the dining room table.

Kusuo was sitting with one leg over the other, his arms crossed, looking a little more serious than his default blank expression. He seemed to be dressed rather warm for the occasion, a white hoodie over a long-sleeve t-shirt and long khakis. He sat at the head of the table.

Grandmother Risa had her hand folded on her lap, looking curiously bemused by the current situation. She was still in her traditional tanned-colored houmongi kimono. She sat at a right angle from Kusuo, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

It seemed like Kusuo remembered how to be a good host. The tea set was set out, with freshly brewed barley tea. Curiously, a box of tissues was set in the middle of the table.

It would had been a normal sight, except that Kusuo was floating.

About a couple of feet off the chair, in fact.

It was a confounding sight. It reminded the Saiki couple of the time that Kusuo's limiter had melted due to whatever reason and he suddenly had a bunch of weird, mostly useless, abilities. One of the most memorable abilities was that he had a 50-centimeter radius invisible shield about him. It seemed cool, until they realized that meant that he couldn't even sit on a chair properly, or really reach anything without the invisible shield knocking it away.

Risa seemed to be more mildly amused by the fact that Kusuo was floating than surprised.

Kuniharu could not help but point at his son. "Um...I guess you've already told her," he said. He looked to Risa. "Um...mother. Your grandson Kusuo is a-"

"She already knows," interrupted Kusuo in a clear, steady, calm voice.

Kuniharu's mouth dropped agape. It's been a very long time since he heard Kusuo's actual voice.

"Ku-chan..." mom said with astonishment in her voice, "You're...talking." How long had it been since she heard his actual voice? And why would he grace Risa with such an unexpected gift?

Kusuo swallowed, momentarily clenched his fist, and took a deep breath to calm himself. He nervously twisted the germanium ring on his pointing finger, momentarily wondering if it was a good idea to wear it to purposefully avoid hearing his parent's thoughts, more specifically, his mother's thoughts.

He recalled how bewildered he had been when he watched his mother cry earlier.

Yes. The ring was a good idea. Hearing his parents' thoughts midway would definitely make him lose his resolve halfway. The decision to speak out loud was part of that determination to make sure he stayed focused and not mince words. This was too important.

-No wonder Ani spoke all the time,- realized Kusuo. -So he's never distracted, despite how much more effort it is.-

Kuniharu uttered a quiet 'yip' when the grocery bags suddenly flew out of his hands and toward the kitchen. The door of the pantry and refrigerator doors opened and closed so quickly that it almost seemed like an optical illusion. He looked quickly to the kitchen and saw some of the items in their respective areas.

The casual psychokinesis act caused Kuniharu to blink and frown in puzzlement. Kusuo had always made an effort to appear normal in front of his parents, unless it was expediently necessary. Usually, Kusuo would have walked over, carried the groceries to the kitchen, and unpacked like a dutiful son.

This nonchalant psychic display reminded Kuniharu of when Kusuo was a baby, when Kusuo effortlessly floated, levitated his toys, caused things to go bang in the night, disappear and reappear suddenly. It took a long while of constant gentle encouragement from Kurumi to get Kusuo to at least outwardly act like a normal person.

Two chairs opposite of Risa slid themselves out.

"Mom. Dad. You need to sit down," said Kusuo.

Kuniharu looked to Risa again. "Mother. Do you know what's going on?"

Risa shrugged her shoulders a little bit. She seemed amazingly relaxed, given the seriousness of the situation. "He said he is ready to tell you something. It sounded pretty important."

At seeing Risa's ease, Kuniharu relaxed too. "Oh, I see," he said. He quickly thought through the possibilities of why Kusuo would be so stern and formal. He snickered briefly as a scandalous modern scenario crossed his mind, "Is there a grandchild in my future? Is it with that Teruhashi-girl? Or that gyaru-Aiura?"

When neither Kusuo nor Risa reacted, Kuniharu's eyes widen. He sat down immediately to the chair closest to him, thinking that his joking guess was exactly what was going to be told to him. "Oh! It is that serious."

Kurumi had a different reaction, though. She stood frozen in place.

Ku-chan had never directed her to do anything. He had always asked her. She thought back on the feeling of emptiness that had been plaguing her these past few days, and Kuusuke's confounding silence. She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and told herself again that things are never as bad as she thinks. The worse could not happen, not with her two beloved, most capable sons around. One or the other would always fix things so that life was peaceful.

"Mama," Kusuo address again. This time, he gently set himself down from the air and sat on the chair like a regular person. "Please?"

At hearing her baby boy's repeated request, Kurumi did as asked. She took the chair that was closer to Kusuo and sat down.

Kusuo looked to his newly discovered grandmother, who seemed oddly abstracted and unbothered by the situation before her. He took a breath and smoothed over the simmering rage just underneath the surface at her attitude. She was a stranger and she simply did not know. "Grandmother Risa, tell them about flashover and it's warning sign, burning," Kusuo directed.

Risa looked startled. She had not expected to say anything when he told her that he said that he was 'ready' to tell his parents. What that 'thing' was, she did not ask. She was still trying to get over the fact that the impossible esper was underneath her nose this entire time.

"What? Wait. No." Risa uttered. "Why would you want them to know that?"

"Because of the danger it poses to others," said Kusuo, "when it happens to you. When it may happen to them," He briefly grimaced as if he had just swallowed a bitter pill. "When it should have already happened to me."

Risa gave Kusuo a betrayed look. "We don't typically let ordinary people know about it."

"What else had Miha burn down when she flashed over?" he asked her rhetorically. He already knew, since the memory on the germanium ring was quite clear. The Cambridge office building fire was another proof of exactly how careful he would have to be, down to the very last breath. For the safety of everyone else, he would necessarily have to be alone.

Just thinking about it made him sick to the stomach.

His parents had been living with a ticking time bomb. Two time bombs, in fact.

Perhaps that was why Kuusuke left the house when he could. Kuusuke, who enjoyed toying with people, built his lab and home in the middle of nowhere, far away from his usual entertainments. Kuusuke only coming to visit, but never staying.

Kuusuke must have known that flashover was a possibility.

"What do you think almost happened, if mom hadn't reattached my limiter?" Kusuo asked further. "If I had continued burning?"

The look that Kusuo gave to Risa was merciless. The feeling she got out of him was extreme cold. It was then that she understood that Kusuo still viewed her as a stranger. He was not about to treat her with absolute acceptance of family just because his parents trusted her. The telepathic message he sent was targeted and clear. "No more lies of omission."

At that, Risa obliged his question. "Miha burned down our parents' house and the surrounding meadow," she said flatly to Kusuo. "Judging by what little I saw you can do, the level of devastation from your flashover will at least cover this residential block. People included." It was Risa's turn to take a breath. "You've convinced me."

From there, Risa repeated, a much-abridged version, of what happens to all espers she knew in the family. She talked, briefly, about the relationship between power and ability. She spoke of herself, how she has mild empathy and short range telepathy. Definitely not as powerful as Kusuo's, but was still a psychic.

Kuniharu and Kurumi did not seem too surprised by that. Their children had been so exceptional that it was not too big of a gap to bridge. It made more sense now, too, since it seemed to explain why their children came out the way they did. To Kuniharu and Kurumi, the facts only reaffirmed that there was not a mix up at the hospital and that their children were truly theirs.

Then Risa spoke of ESP's effects on lifespan, depending on the ability. Of how children, so physically marked like Kusuo, were automatically assumed to never survive childhood.

Kuniharu's expression devolved from his usual happy-go-lucky smile to one of puzzlement.

Kurumi's expression followed her husband's progression. Why was Risa telling them this now?

"Wait, I had an older brother named Kasei?" asked Kuniharu, not sure what he was hearing. "And Kusuo looked like him?"

Risa nodded. She took a sip of the tea. The pain had lessened over time, but the memory of that baby she held in her arms so long ago was still fresh in her memories. She spoke of Miha, an esper with the ability to affect reality, who lived the longest before Kusuo. There were others of course, just not that Risa knew much outside the two she personally knew. It never the sort of thing that that was loudly proclaimed. It was why the family had been so small for ages.

Finally, Risa spoke of burning, of its outward presentation as a fever and pain. And its eventual descent into combustion, destroying the body of psychic.

"So, you're saying that Kusuo should have just burned up a long time ago," clarified Kuniharu, his expression reflect uncomprehending horror. "Am I understanding this correctly?"

Risa nodded. "It has happened to all espers in the family, no matter the level of the manifestation. Life span has always been inversely related to ability and power. While I'm still here, still going strong, likely to live my full life expectancy of 85 years, Kasei and Miha never lived past childhood. It's why Kusuo-kun's current existence is so impossible." She glanced over to Kusuo and gave an encouraging look. "It's why he's such a special person." She looked at Kuniharu. "It's why I think you had done so well."

Kuniharu's face reddened, not sure what to say. "Well...it's not exactly me, you know."

While Risa and Kuniharu about some more details, Kurumi looked to her son with unconcealed watery eyes.

Wordlessly Kurumi got up, dragged her chair over so that the chair was adjacent to Kusuo's chair. She settled herself back into her chair and held onto her nearly-adult son. She squeezed him tight, her head resting on his shoulder, seemingly content to sit there and hold him for a while, as if to forever imprint the feeling of him into her soul. This was her baby boy, the one closest to the heart. She had an inkling that they almost lost Kusuo all those years ago. She never completely freaked out because Kuusuke had told her that he would fix it and everything was going to be alright. Being reminded of that terrible year made her even more appreciative that Kusuo was still here, with her, that she got to experience him grow up to be bigger than her. "Oh. Ku-chan," she muttered.

Kusuo naturally allowed his mother to hold him as such. They were in the privacy of their home and her presence and constant reminder of her fondness for him was comforting in this moment.

He thought about how his mother had always been so careful and loving. She had always accepted his curious behavior, his psychic abilities, without question. She had deliberately not made friends partially because she was scared of accidentally revealing his secret. It did not help that they moved so much. Her thoughts and actions had always been the same. Even now, she had avoided touching him skin to skin, because she did not want to set off his psychometry.

She had always been there, being the firm rock to which the family anchored.

Or had it always been someone else?

That damn 'something' was there again, preventing Kusuo from understanding and remembering.

Kusuo felt like throwing up when he considered what that 'something' had been all the along.

That 'something' had to be Ani.

Who else could had been so despicably underhanded as to deliberately influence the thoughts of everyone around him, including his own all-powerful psychic little brother, without anyone noticing?

Everyone had simply attributed anything strange that happened around Ani to Ani's intellect and eccentricity. There was no other possible explanation to consider.

There had been times when Kusuo did suspect something more. For example, Ani fixed things so easily, like a completely shattered limiter, within seconds. At the time, Kusuo was impressed that he had entertained the idea that Ani was an esper.

How curious that Kusuo always forgot such a possibility the moment after he thought about it.

Ani had always been capable, too. Extreme educational precociousness was one outward demonstration of Ani's capability. But from what Risa had just said and the pieces of evidence as mom had described of what happened to Kusuo back in fifth grade, Ani must had been so capable that he was able to defeat what others had determined to be fate, namely by being the primary creator of the limiters.

Strangely enough, Ani was never able to defeat Kusuo in a game. How could that be?

Kusuo recalled the fact that Ani had counted every one of their matches. Ani had stated this fact when they had visited him in London to get his limiter fixed back during Kusuo's second year. At the time, Kusuo only felt disgusted, that Ani was so creepily and inappropriately obsessed that Ani counted, down to the single-digit, of thousands of matches they had.

Upon a second viewing of that interaction, Kusuo saw the Ani's underlying know-it-all-chuckle, as if to mock Kusuo for not detecting such an obvious thought pattern in the 10 years that they had lived under one roof.

Kusuo immediately recalled another minute detailed in one of the interactions with Kuusuke, a recent one that should have completely tipped Kusuo off.

It had been the night after Kusuo had successfully suppressed Mount Owari for the second time, without the visible reveal of his psychic power to his normal friends. He had turned-back-time, to avoid the timeline where his friends saw his impossible deeds and thus lead to a mountain of questions that could not answer. Being the nosy high school-age friends that they were, they would want to know every last detail. Even if they were ready to accept him as he was, Kusuo felt that it was unfair to make them carry his secrets.

That night, Kusuo had been ready to use the psychic canceler. He was ready to live without having to be constantly mindful of his ESP and the burden of keeping it on the down-low. He would be able to obtain that 'normal' life, with 'normal' capabilities. He was ready to be honest with his friends and move onto the future.

At that time, Kusuo had mutedly listened Ani narrate exactly what occurred in that timeline, down to the loss of Yumehara's love confession to Kaido.

Ani had not been wearing his telepathy canceler.

At the time, it just seemed natural that such a genius like Ani could have guessed, to incredible detail, of what happened on Mount Owari. Ani had always been able to guess Kusuo's thoughts correctly for as long as Kusuo could remember, so Kusuo simply accepted Ani's matchless intuition as a natural quirk of a mad genius.

Even Akechi, another genius at school, could guess people's thoughts well enough that some of their classmates had called Akechi an esper. Ani was simply smarter and more insane.

But what should had tipped Kusuo off was the question Kusuo had to ask after Ani completed the long-winded narrative of what occurred in a timeline that technically never existed outside of Kusuo's head.

Kusuo had asked Ani, " Why are you here? "

Kusuo was telepathic, with a standard 200-meter range while wearing his first-generation limiter. He should have never needed to ask "Why?" Even if he was tired from suppressing the volcano, that had been hours before. His powers should have recharged by then.

It was not even telepathy against telepathy that created blind spots.

Kuusuke had been able to block him.

And likely had been able to do so, for a long time.

Then, Kusuo recalled that he had asked Ani about the effects of the psychic canceler on mind control afterward. Ani had made it a point to study Kusuo's ESP in trying desperately to win a game so of course, Ani would know the effects of the psychic canceler on mind control.

Thinking back, it was just as likely that Ani had enough practice to test and be certain of the effects and Kusuo unconsciously knew and trusted Ani's opinion as truth.

That had to be one of the reasons Ani created the telepathy canceler.

Ani was a masochist, and nothing was more head-banging-against-the-wall challenging than forcing science to overcome ESP.

And judging by Risa's conviction of how inescapable flashover was, Ani had already proved that science can overcome ESP back when Ani was thirteen-years-old.

But that was not enough. Ani had to make sure the defeat was at the height of ESP's effects, which meant Kusuo without the usage of the limiter. Ani would have only been satisfied with absolutes.

Good Grief. Kusuo would have to mentally review every single interaction he ever had with Ani.

That consummate liar.

Kusuo was still so going to kill Ani in the next life as payback.

"I don't get it," Risa was saying to Kuniharu.

The words of frustration brought Kusuo back into the conversation.

"What did you mean that Kusuo-kun was constantly fevering on and off back in fifth grade?" asked Risa. "That's the sign of burning in an esper. From what you're saying, he should have flashed over back then."

"That's why I've kept saying that Kuusuke should be here to hear all this," said Kuniharu. "Because he's already fixed that."

Risa seemed confused. "What are you talking about? How did he overcome flashover?"

Kurumi held onto Kusuo tighter. "Ku-kun built Ku-chan's hairpins. That must be why Ku-chan is still here."

"That's right," agreed Kuniharu. "Kuusuke likely foresaw this. His great at predicting things like this."

Risa looked to Kusuo. "Oh. Those hairpins. Do you mean those 'limiter' devices that look like lobotomy picks? You're saying that your older brother made them?"

"Of course Ku-kun made them," said Kurumi, still holding onto Kusuo, leaning gratefully into him. "Ku-kun treasures Ku-chan. Ku-kun would never allow something like flashover to happen to Ku-chan."

Kuniharu already took out his cellphone, swiping through the call application for Kuusuke's number. "I'm going to call him now. He's probably not going to pick up. but I got to at least leave a message."

"Dad, You can't tell him," Kusuo interrupted flatly.

Kuniharu stopped before tapping the call button. It was still quite jarring to hear his younger son's actual voice. He looked to Kusuo with confusion. "Why?"

Kusuo breathed, trying to formulate the words.

"Kusuo, this isn't something that you keep to yourself," reasoned Kurniharu with furrowed brows. "Besides, it's Kuusuke. You know that he probably has an idea about all this already."

"Because..."Kusuo began and stopped. He felt his heart begin to pound uncontrollably and he took several short breaths, trying to slow it down and prevent it from jumping out of his chest. He thought he was prepared.

"Because of what, Ku-chan?" asked Kurumi. She squeezed his arms encouragingly.

"You can tell us, Kusuo," said Kuniharu. "We're your family. And relax. Whatever it is, you know how Kuusuke is. There's no hiding things from him. This is more a courtesy than anything."

Kusuo opened his mouth, but he shut it immediately.

Talk about evidence of Kuusuke's ability in front of everyone, without anyone, not even his family, suspecting it to be more than just Kuusuke being incredibly smart, driven and capable. And Kuusuke never spoke of it directly his entire life.

What the hell was Kusuo thinking for even entertaining the idea about telling his secret to his normal school friends?

"Ku-chan? Are you okay?" asked Kurumi. Being physically close to him, she could feel his entire body shake from how fast his heart was racing. She tightened her grip on him, again, as if trying to give him courage. "Whatever it is, you know we'll get through it, together. All four of us. Ku-kun, You, me, and Papa" she assured him.

Kusuo shook his head. His sight was getting blurry as he stared at the teacup in front of him. "No. Not four of us."

Kuniharu frowned deeply, trying to understand what his son was trying to tell them. He was not sure how to react to the situation either, since Kusuo never had a problem with responding with some sort of sarcastic remark to people's faces. This avoidance was uncharacteristic. He tried another angle.

"Kusuo. I know you have something important to tell us. Does this discussion with grandmother Risa had something to do with it?"

Kusuo nodded numbly. He could think of what he had to say and how he absolutely did not want to say it.

He looked down at his lap now, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, he tried one last time to look for Kuusuke with clairvoyance.

Nothing.

Kuniharu frowned at the sight that Kusuo was looking down. What was he ashamed of? "Well, whatever it is we'll get through it together. Mama and Papa will always support you," said Kuni encouragingly. "Kuusuke might whine about it, but you know he would always come through for you."

Kusuo shook his head and he dismissed his clairvoyance. "He's not going to come through. Not this time."

"Have faith, Ku-chan," Kurumi said reassuringly. She felt her boy's extreme tension and it was worrying. "Remember all your competitions? No matter how many tries, Ku-kun had never given up."

Mom's words were like knives to the heart.

"But I have," Kusuo whispered.

"Have what?" asked mom gently.

"Given up," said Kusuo, finally recognizing this moment for what it truly meant.

"What are you talking about, Kusuo?" asked Kuniharu, starting to get slightly vexed. He thought back to the brother's conflicts and silent treatments they gave to each other. "What did Kuusuke do this time that caused you to write him off?"

Kusuo took a deep breath. He felt as tense as the day of the fire. His heart trying to jump out of his chest. His stomach seemed to have dropped out. He felt cold and hot at the same time. Nerves all taut to the point that he felt like shattering. Bodily sympathetic system going haywire. The finality of the words that must be said cut more painfully than any he had ever endured.

"He died."

Chapter Text

"He died."

At hearing those words, uttered by so rare a voice, Kurumi felt a jolt of raw electricity coursed through her, rearranging her brain, her memories, her insides. Her heart began to race uncomfortably. The unperturbable calm that she always felt when she thought of her big baby seemed to recede, revealing the jagged edges of tumultuous unrest that rose like a volcanic eruption, molten rock burning and destroying everything in its path.

She sat up, retracting her arms and hands from Kusuo. She rubbed an inexplicable wet spot on the back of her hand. It was warm. She looked to her younger son with a confounded look. "Ku-chan?" was all she could say.

Risa looked at Kusuo, surprised. "What? You mean that's the 'important thing?'"

Kuniharu frowned. He did not seem like he quite believed what Kusuo had just said. "You're joking, right? You mean that he's just 'dead to you?' One of his pranks finally gone overboard."

-I wish desperately that is the case,- thought Kusuo.

The words were out, but Kusuo still felt tense.

Judging by his parents' response, they did not believe him.

Yet.

Kusuo understood and expected that reaction. His own reaction was no different. He had been there, saw the irrefutable proof, verified it, felt so flustered by event and its ramifications that he could only sit dumbly for hours afterward, trying and failing to get his body, his emotions, to obey him. Once he was able to get some semblance of bodily control, he tried to bring Kuusuke back. Each failure, every inexplicable stab in his heart, only made Kusuo tell himself that he was in a bad dream. This world could not be so cruel. He begged whatever more powerful being out there, whatever being who so cursed him, to allow him to wake up.

Except, there was no waking up from reality.

"Ani, Saiki Kuusuke, passed away," Kusuo said again, louder this time, more firmly. "He was nineteen."

There was about half a minute of uncomfortable silence.

"But, Ku-chan," Kurumi called, her voice quivered. "We've just sung him a happy 20th birthday."

Kusuo refused to meet her eyes.

"Ku-chan," Kurumi called again, this time, with barely concealed urgency in her voice. "You were in the video, you..." her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. She recalled some of the details of that morning. She thought of how Kusuo had forcefully told her 'no' when she suggested calling Kuusuke to come visit since Kusuo looked sick to her for almost 24 hours. Then she thought back to Kuusuke's uncharacteristic silence the day before that, and how he had not responded to her for days. "What are you saying, Ku-chan?"

Kusuo didn't know what more he could say. He thought his words were clear enough. He was not about to repeat them again.

"Kuusuke was gone before the 16th. That's what you're saying," Kuniharu said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Kuniharu recalled some of the details of the day. Kusuo's general disrespectfulness that Kuniharu had attributed to Kusuo being a dour, dramatic, unpleasant psychic teenager. Growing pains, as society would liked to call it. Kuniharu endured his son's irreverent attitude, jocularly. That was part of the job of being a father, to be patient with his children's, especially sons', know-it-all incivility and smooth the transition into unforgiving adulthood.

"It must've happened almost midnight," Kuniharu continued, "After we got back from checking in on grandpa Kumagoro. It's why you looked like you've been up all night. That's why you looked so ill when Mama asked you to light those candles."

This time, it was Kurumi who started to shake when she realized one very important detail of that hurried, last minute, idea to bring cheer to her big baby. "Ku-chan...You never lit the 20th candle, did you?"

Kusuo shook his head.

He barely recalled lighting the candles. His body was on autopilot because he was used to doing whatever his mother asked out of love for her. In his head, the images of fire, ash and embers kept on replaying. Just lighting the candles one by one felt like he was one who turned Kuusuke into embers.

The event had affected him more than he thought possible. He hated Kuusuke, didn't he? Even now, Kusuo felt unmitigated fury at the newly discovered falsehoods. If Kuusuke was here, Kusuo would have kicked him in the head.

-Ha. Another goddamn lie,- realized Kusuo.

Kusuo considered his natural strength, even without the psychic ability, how he could easily kill a person and how careful he had always been with it. He rarely used it, unless it was Toritsuka who was trying to annoy him into doing a favor or a random delinquent stupid enough to try to shake him for stuff without witnesses. In those situations, Kusuo made sure that he was well controlled.

For Kuusuke, though, a self-described normal person, Kusuo gave no second thoughts to violence. Even the first time he saw Kuusuke in four years, when Kuusuke suggested a challenge, Kusuo's first thought was some sort of physical match up.

Going further back in time, a logical contradiction popped up.

In all the fistfights they had growing up, how in the world did Kusuo never recall ever using restoration on Kuusuke even once until the day of the fire? Kusuo was physically far stronger, that was certain, and could best Kuusuke any day. Kusuo clearly remembered making Kuusuke curl up into a ball on the ground from pain.

Had Kusuo always been so controlled that he never hurt Kuusuke to the point of Kuusuke needing restoration? Had he never had an accident with his strength when it came to Kuusuke?

Just thinking about made him want to break something.

"Why didn't you say something then?" asked Kuniharu gently, pulling Kusuo out of a reverie.

Kusuo hugged himself, putting a hand just below his throat, as if he could stop his heart thudding so hard. "I thought I could bring him back."

Risa, who had been silent the entire time, tilted her head at that. "You can bring back the dead?"

Kusuo shook his head. "No. Not directly. I'd have to change time."

This time, it was Risa who furrowed her brows. She had never heard of anyone with temporal abilities.

"I honestly thought that I could bring him back," continued Kusuoe with eyes closed. "I had saved the planet so many times. I thought it should be easy to bring him back. It's just one life, one fate. I had tried and tried and tried. I risked the butterfly effects and in no timeline did he ever make it past his 20th June 16th." Kusuo paused and hook shake his head again. "Until today, I didn't understand that he had flashed over and how immutable it is once it happened."

The family went silent at the implication of what Kusuo said, particularly of flashover. It did not take them long to connect the dots.

"If he flashed over, then that would mean that he was an esper," Risa stated. "How do you know for sure that's what it was an even flashover? You've never witnessed one."

"But I have."

"Though what?"

"The germanium ring," said Kusuo. "via psychometry."

Risa's facial expression turned into one of horrified amazement.

"At first, I thought I was confused when I saw the ring's memories," said Kusuo. "I thought it was just my mind, still replaying what I saw days earlier. Then I came to realize the manner of passing among Ani, Miha and Kasei's were the same." Kusuo shook his head again for far too many times today. "When I found Ani, he was already an ashen char. I tried restoration and it seemed to work. But as soon I thought it worked, he just disintegrated into embers. There was nothing left. It's like you've said. Flashovers do not leave bodies."

Risa seemed to take in the explanation. "But if your older brother was an esper, then what were his abilities?" she pressed. "How are you even sure he was an esper?"

"He must be some sort of telepathy type of esper," Kusuo said, after a brief moment in thought. "A very strong one, he definitely has some sort of mind control and hypnosis. It's not the same as mine because I would've noticed. It is a form that has the same effect." There was a pause. "This is all conjecture and he can't be here to verify any of it. I only have circumstantial evidence to go on. It's the only thing that explains so much of all the logical fallacies that never caught my attention until now." 

"Like what?" asked Risa.

This time, Kusuo looked to his parents. There was one question that had been plaguing him since he considered the evidence.

There was a dark shadow over Kuniharu's and Kurumi's faces.

"Why was I never seen by a doctor for what I am?" asked Kusuo.

"What are you talking about?" Kuniharu was the one who spoke up. He looked uncomfortable.

Kurumi looked positively frightened.

"Ani spoke in full sentences by the time he was a month old. He predicted the ending of stories that you've read to him. He never cried. He was never angry." As if to demonstrate their difference, Kusuo switched to telepathy. "I've talked to you with my mind at two weeks. Levitated and walked in the air by one month. But you seemed to take it in stride. Why the difference? Why was Ani examined and I was not? When it's obvious that I am even more unusual than him. Did he convince you not to do so? Was your acceptance of my nature even real?"

At that question, Kurumi and Kuniharu looked at each other.

"Well, there's some truth to that," began Kuniharu.

Surprisingly, to Kusuo, Kurumi spoke up to her husband. "Kuniharu. No..."

Kuniharu looked to his wife with oddly sad and guilty eyes. "Kusuo deserves to know."

"But...Ku-kun says it's not a big deal," Kurumi said, half begging.

"Kuusuke thinks everything is not a big deal," said Kuniharu. "And it's not like Kusuo doesn't know the facts. He just doesn't know the context."

"What don't I know the context of?" asked Kusuo.

"Kusuo, you can read our thoughts. In all our memories, I'm sure you've noticed that Kuusuke wasn't around a lot, particularly when you were younger."

Kusuo thought about it. That was one of the things he had ignored and now come to find the fact unusual. He did consider, earlier, how he lived a strangely single-child life, despite being only two years younger than Kuusuke.

Inexplicably, tears started to form at the corner of Kurumi's eyes.

"You see, we did take him to be tested. The primary reason for that was, well, you know how Kuusuke sometimes says and does very," Kuniharu paused to search for the right words, "disturbing things."

Kusuo blinked at that. This had to be the first time his parents acknowledged Kuusuke's obvious mental derangements. His parents never reproached Kuusuke either, seemingly ignoring Kuusuke's rather direct tendencies.

"Like you, he can always tell what people were thinking, but different from what you do, Kusuo," admitted Kuniharu. "It was like he stared into your soul instead of your mind. It's not like how most people would be thinking one thing and saying the other. It's more like, he understood people's motivations, and what scares them the most. While he was always sweet, sometimes snarky, and all smiles with us, he terrified everyone else."

"When we got him looked at, the doctors told us that he's extremely intelligent, but he's also schizophrenic, bi-polar, compulsive, hallucinatory and a whole list of psychological illnesses. They told us that he'll be uncontrollable, destructive, sociopathic, and a menace to society before long, unless he's in therapy to better socialize him. We didn't have money for therapy, so they've asked us if we wanted him to participate in some sort of medical trial and they would even pay us. They will provide therapy as needed to prevent this future where he becomes a criminal or worse. All they wanted, in exchange, was access to him." Kuniharu paused for a moment. "We were twenty-one, twenty years old, really no money, with you on the way. We didn't know any better. So we've said yes to them."

"What are you not saying?" asked Kusuo.

"They took him," said Kuniharu. "Right before he turned two-years-old."

Risa looked disturbed at this. "Why didn't you tell me, Kuniharu?"

"We were ashamed. Because you were right. It was folly to start a family so early. We were struggling to get by. Kurumi's parents had to send us money. You are a proud woman doctor in a society and profession dominated by men and its jealousies. It's one of the reasons for the estrangement. You were bound by that one income. We have no other family to help us. Dad just died. You cannot afford to have the stigma of your son asking you for money because of life choices. The hospital would've ousted you for any blemish."

Risa frowned deeply at this reasoning. Not so much that her son did not come to her for assistance in time of need, but more because her son was right.

Kurumi sniffed. She grabbed hold of a tissue and dabbed her eyes. "Ku-kun knew it was going to happen, too. He told us not to worry or think about him before they came. He got into a car and just left."

Kusuo's expression was one of mild confoundment. The whole sequence sounded like Kuusuke's style of 'disappear without warning for a while.' But to be in the care of strangers at two-years-old? Even that sounded far-fetched.

"Kuusuke didn't come back until he was about three-year-old," Kuniharu was saying. "He rang the doorbell, we let him in. He had gotten older, and life went on as if he had always been here except that he stopped scaring people as a default. He never told us where he went, what happened during that year. When we asked, he would only say that he 'took care of them.' And he continued with his disappearing habits, sometimes not coming back for days. Whatever he was doing, it mostly stopped by the time he was in second grade and completely stopped by the time he was in fourth grade."

"And you weren't worried?" asked Kusuo, not sure he was hearing correctly. Kuusuke was capable. But would his parents be so negligent as to be not concerned? His parents called the cops when Kusuo, himself, took hide and seek too far and went missing. That had been five hours. His older brother was missing for an entire year. How in the world had his parents not worried themselves sick?

"It's Kuusuke," said Kuniharu, as if that explained it all. "Would you worry about him?"

Kusuo barely considered the question. "No."

"Kuusuke was never bothered by it, at least not outwardly," Kuniharu continued. "But he was adamant that you should never be seen by a professional. So, yes. You're right, Kusuo. One of the reasons why we never took you to be seen was because he told us not to. But we were not about to risk having you taken away from us, either."

Risa had listened to all of this with a thoughtful gaze. The part where Kuniharu described what happened to their eldest son at the tender age of two, and its seemingly zero effects. "None of this confirmed that he had telepathy," she noted. "And it might suggest that he was prescient?"

"Maybe. Ani was naturally very smart," said Kusuo. "It was never been a stretch for him to guess people's thoughts or predict the future and be correct. It's like saying that you think the sun will rise tomorrow and it happens. Is that an ESP premonition? Or just being a normal, reasonable human being. Some of things he did were inexplicable but was it telepathy? If so, I should've picked that up." Kusuo stared at his father for a moment, thinking through his father's earlier words. "And I've finally figured out why I never did. Ani saw thoughts," said Kusuo, as if it explained it all.

"What do you mean?" said Risa.

"I hear thoughts. He sees thoughts. It's why he always knew what I'm thinking, but always had to put it into words. It's why I've never picked it up on the fact that he had telepathy. It's why dad says he saw into the soul. It's why they thought he was schizophrenic. It's why even with the telepathy canceler, it stopped the listening, but never the seeing. It's why his mind control is so pervasive, so undetectable. It's because he sent out images, instead of words," Kusuo snorted and huffed a little. "I think I'm going to be sick." Immediately after that, Kusuo shook his head. "But it's a moot point, anyway. Knowing all of this doesn't fix my current problem."

Kusuo's thought process must had been too quick because three pairs of eyes looked at him curiously, as if not understanding. It seemed that they still thought the news of Kuusuke's passing as an intellectual exercise. They believed it, but the truth of the fact had not hit them yet.

"Ku-chan," Kurumi tugged on her son's sleeve. Her face was flushed, and it looked like she was trying to keep whatever emotional outburst from happening. "What do you mean by that?"

Kusuo sighed. It was probably a good thing that his parents were so oblivious. Whether it was due to their take-it-as-you-go nature, or some sort of influence by Kuusuke, it was impossible to know, now. Given what had occurred recently, Kusuo was determined that he would not be like Kuusuke and deliberately keep his parents in the dark. He was not going to be like that asshole and leave a bunch of loose ends for the rest of his family to figure out.

"If what Grandmother Risa said is true, then I am not supposed to be here," said Kusuo. "The limiters had somehow prevented me from flashing over years ago. It's likely serving the same function now." Kusuo looked to Risa. "You've already seen what was happening earlier because I wasn't wearing them."

"Yes. You were burning," said Risa. "A foreshadowing of flashover. But you've said those devices, those 'limiters' as you've called it, keep it under control."

Kusuo took a moment to prop his elbow on the table, and hold his head as if experiencing a headache. "Limiters can break. And because of my carelessness, I've accidentally destroyed all my spare ones."

Kuniharu and Kurumi both gasped.

"Oh, no! Ku-chan!" was all Kurumi could say.

Kuniharu stood up, almost knocking over his hair. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"I don't understand," said Risa.

Kusuo took a breath and sat up. He wrung his hands nervously. He had already told Risa once but the reasoning was probably lost on her by the details of the evening. "Ani made my limiters."

Now it was Risa who gasped. "Kusuo-kun, you're saying that if your current limiters break now..." Risa did not complete the sentence.

"Yeah," said Kusuo. He squinted his eyes shut as he swallowed hard. "It's an automatic death sentence."

Chapter Text

To be honest, Kaido was not sure really what to do next.

After telling mom off, he ran out of the grocery store. He picked a side street and kept on running.

Kaido kept on thinking of all the times he blindly did what his mother asked, and the flack, the alienation that he got from his peers throughout middle school and beginning of high school. His desperate, painstaking efforts had earned him few smiles and sometimes, very rare praise from his stern mother. He kept on trying anyway. School, TV, and even manga told him that a good eldest son did as his mother told him.

Then, he thought about how his current group of friends, specifically the guy friend of Saiki, Nendo and Kuboyasu. He thought about how they've hung out, built forts, get motorcycle licenses, pranked on each other, shared each other's homework misery. Sure, they've teased him for which Kaido felt comfortable enough to tease them back. With them, Kaido finally felt like he did not have to change who he is.

What was the point of working hard, get a job, being good, when it would barely impress his mother? His father certainly didn't care. His younger sister, Sora, was in that stage where she thinks that all her siblings are stupid. The younger brother, Toki, who was in third grade, certainly didn't look up to Kaido due to his grades.

Kaido's friends didn't care about grades either. Judging by the future plan survey they did back at the end of 2nd year, it seemed like it was Kaido who had the most educational and career ambition among his guy friends. Hairo and Kuboyasu wanted to be teachers, which are ambitious, but safe and unimaginative. Nendo wanted to marry an idol, along with probably owning some sort of business. As much as people dismissed Nendo, there was no dismissing Nendo's luck. Saiki wanted to study economics or literature at mediocre schools, which sounded downright boring and a little disappointing. Saiko was going to inherit the conglomerate so he wrote something about business and one of those impossible-to-get-into types of tertiary schools.

Kaido didn't run for very long. He wasn't naturally built or trained for long-distance running like Nendo and Hario. Driven by finally being able to stand up to mom, he felt like he ran further in one stretch than any other time. Eventually, he slowed down to trot and kept on going until he felt his physical body could not handle it. He ended walking instead.

And now, he was lost.

More like he was not sure how to get back into town, or to one of the guy's houses.

Kaido has a phone on him, so he probably could use a ride-share application but that would also mean that he would have to turn on the location service on his phone. At the moment, he wasn't looking forward to having his mother tracking him down through a cellphone application. He deliberately turned the location service off and even took out the battery on his phone so the authorities could not find him. He did not want the embarrassment of having the cops picking him up and having his mother scold him in front of his father and siblings.

Kaido found himself taking shelter at a 24/7 gyudon shop, Sukiya (1). The shop was well-lit with fluorescent lighting, the smell of food savory beef, and sitting booths with thick red upholstery. He found a corner booth and sat down. Kaido was oblivious to the attendant at the counter who was giving him the stink eye for loitering.

Kaido took a survey of what he had with him. He had his phone, the clothes on his back, shoes, and his wallet. There was also some lint, a paper clip, a random button, a receipt, and a pen in his pocket. Not exactly all the resources he needed to run away.

His wallet was flush with cash from midterms, so that was a plus. If he needed it, he can go find a hotel for the night. Not that was what he wanted to do with his midterm cash. He originally was going to buy some game cards, a couple of issues of Jump, and treat his friends Saiki, and Yumehara like Teruhashi had suggested, to some after-school snack activity.

Friends. Would they come to him now? At this late hour? He would very much like to be with one of his guy friends, to be assured that he was accepted for what he was.

Kaido first thought about Kuboyasu. Of the guy friends, Kaido was on a given name basis with Kuboyasu. The two hung out one and one the most. It was a little scary to call Kuboyasu "Aren," though. Rumors had it that Kuboyasu used to be a feared gang leader at Carnage Elementary, Blackmark Middle, and Hellfire High before coming to PK Academy. Kuboyasu got challenges daily, ones that he honored and would randomly show up to class with 'ketchup' all over his school uniform.

No. Not Kuboyasu. Kuboyasu was the fearless, take-no-prisoners manly man that Kaido looked up to. Kuboyasu's continued good opinion mattered to Kaido and Kaido was not certain about Kuboyasu's reaction to Kaido's difficulties with mom.

Kaido then thought about calling Nendo and immediately thought that was a stupid idea. Nendo was trustworthy to be an accepting friend. Nendo was not trustworthy to be delicate. Kaido did not want to risk the possibility of Nendo yapping to all their friends of how Kaido ran off. Nendo was also elemental and was likely to pick on Kaido for "walking-out-on-mama" which was not what Kaido wanted to hear now. While Nendo was okay with directions, Kaido was not. Stupidity and poor directional sense would only get both of them lost.

Kaido didn't consider Hairo or Saiko in the group of guys he could call. They always seemed like they have bigger fish to fry. Hairo had all his club and civic activities, as well as the love and respect of pretty much everyone at school. Hairo was the epitome of goodness and would give the shirt off his back to anyone. But Hairo would never understand the parental expectations for someone like Kaido, who had to work so hard and endure so much. Saiko had all his money and the burdens of money and endearingly flaunt it in people's faces. Saiko would house and fete Kaido handsomely, while going off on a monologue about how plebs should know their place. Saiko was extremely self-confident, whether it was warranted or not.

Oddly enough, it seemed like Saiki was the person that Kaido could relate to and was actually one of the first people that Kaido thought about.

Saiki was probably the most normal guy that Kaido know. Saiki's parents were still around and together. Saiki knew what it feels like to have a sibling. Saiki lived in a normal house. Saiki dressed normally. Saiki had normal, boring plans for the future. The only real difference between them was that Saiki's parents were not as modern, with a stay-at-home mom and a father with a modest salary. Saiki didn't have a part-time job either. So Saiki's didn't have the money to participate in certain activities like arcades or card games. Saiki usually watched people do things a lot of the time. Saiki was the younger sibling, though which meant that he probably got away with everything, just like Toki.

In the end, Kaido decided to reach out to Saiki. In their current close friend group, Saiki was his friend the longest and was a great listener. Kaido felt that Saiki would understand and not be judgemental of perceived flaws.

Turning on his phone, Kaido first made sure that the location feature was not on before he looked for the brand new phone number he got from Kurumi.

-Hey. It's Kaido. You got a moment?- Kaido tapped into the phone and hit send.

When there was no immediate response, Kaido groaned. He sort of recalled Saiki's mom saying something about Saiki being technology averse and not responding to text and phone calls. Or what if he inputted the wrong number and got a stranger?

Refused to be deterred, Kaido risked another round of stink-eye from the order counter attendant and asked for the location of the shop.

-I'm at Sukiya, at the corner of Tenda Street and Niho Avenue. Can you come?- Kaido sent.

No response for the next ten minutes. It was long enough for Kaido to be worried about how Saiki thought of him or just leave him in a lurch, or that maybe Kaido got the wrong number when he copied it from Saiki's mom earlier?

During that time, Kaido thought back to their primary friend's group. As much as Kaido looked up to Kuboyaus and Nendo for their unique personalities, disapproval from those two did not seem hurtful since they have a habit of liking and disliking people for the slightest reasons. Rejection from Saiki, who accepted everyone as they were, felt like a rejection of the whole person.

Actually, it was hard to know what Saiki thought of anyone since he seldom expressed an opinion. Saiki was always just there.

Kaido thought about that. Saiki was always just there, almost like a protective guardian spirit.

Kaido shook his head at that idea. That scrawny, average at sports, bespeckled, nerdy Saiki, being a protective guardian? It was laughable.

During the time that Kaido used to fret over Saiki's response, a couple of customers came in and one left.

In the end, Kaido focused on his phone, trying to will it to respond with something, anything. Feeling dejected because Saiki did not respond, Kaido gave up and looked up Kuboyasu's number again. Kaido was determined to show mom that his guy friends are better and more reliable than her.

Suddenly, the seat cushion opposite of Kaido shifted and someone plopped down.

"Good grief."

Kaido blinked and looked up. It was Saiki.

The pink-haired young man was holding what looked to be a milkshake and what appeared to be a lidded styrofoam cup of hot beverage. Wordlessly, Saiki placed the milkshake in front of Kaido.

Kaido just stared, completely not expecting Saiki to show up so quickly after being messaged. Eventually, Kaido was able to eek the words, "Saiki! What are you doing here?"

Saiki pulled out a phone. He tuned it 180 degrees and placed it in front of Kaido to see the two lines of text message that Kaido had sent him.

Kaido unconsciously reached out for the milkshake and drank. Meanwhile, he realized how fitting Saiki's presence was. Saiki did not respond to text messages. Saiki just showed up.

And from the looks of it, Kaido almost wished he had not messaged Saiki.

Saiki looked ashen white, like all the blood had drained from his face, and was a little gaunt. He looked worse than the day of the exam. Saiki also wore clothes that seemed really too warm for June, long sleeves with a pull-over hoodie sweater and track pants. Saiki even wore a baseball cap. Saiki's characteristic scowl seemed even deeper than usual. He also held onto the cup of hot drink as if trying to warm himself with it.

Kaido wanted to hit himself in the head when he recalled what Saiki's mom had said earlier. Saiki's mom did say that her son was sick and had told Kaido that she did not want visitors.

That must be why Saiki was wearing such warm clothes because Saiki must've gotten a fever and one of the classic symptoms of fever was a feeling of cold. Per standard at-home treatments, Saiki must've learned and worn heavier clothes to keep whatever this was from getting worse.

Saiki must've snuck out to meet him.

The idea strangely made Kaido feel a little better to know that his friend valued him enough to risk illness and being caught out of the house this late at night.

It also made Kaido feel a little guilty.

Whatever illness Saiki had seemed to have really bothered him.

"Um...how was the stomach flu?" asked Kaido. Even as the words slipped out of his mouth, he wanted to hit himself in the head again. What's with him? He was usually much more eloquent than this. "I mean. How are you feeling? I saw your mom earlier. She said that you were sick."

Saiki took a sip of tea, his gaze focused on the cup. "Not good."

Kaido wasn't sure which question Saiki had answered.

"What's up with you?" asked Saiki.

It took a moment for Kaido to think up a good response. This was Saiki, his longest friend to whom Kaido could say anything.

Heroic music started to play in Kaido's head as he puffed up, indulging in the thought patterns of being a protagonist in his own story. "Well, I've called you out here, Saiki, because I've received desperate news of a Dark Reunion reconnaissance team bursting forth, on this earth, at the bewitching hour. You, a dedicated follower of the Jet Black Wing, have been selected from the masses to join me, to serve Judgement upon this detachment, and overcome this hostile take over."

Saiki gazed at Kaido steadily through those green-tinted glasses. It was uncomfortable. Saiki did not have to say anything. Kaido's imagination and natural uncertainty, guessed that Saiki was probably thinking, -Did you really call me out in the middle of the night for this?- followed by - I snuck out of the house, while feeling like shit, for Dark Reunion?- followed by - I'm going home.-

And it seemed like Kaido guessed Saiki's thought correctly because Saiki got up, looking disinterested.

"Alright alright! I'm kidding," Kaido offered.

Saiki kept on moving.

Kaido just stared. Was Saiki really going to walk out on him?

"Oh. Bathroom," said Kaido to himself after seeing Saiki entered the men's room. It would make sense that Saiki wasn't leaving, since Saiki left his phone on the table.

Saiki left his phone on the table...

Kaido knew he should not, but he could not help himself.

The phone was the livelihood of a person, a window to their deepest thoughts. Saiki was a good friend, and a good friend wouldn't care if their good friend took a peek at their phone. Kaido wondered what kind of dirt he could dig up on Saiki.

Like what type of porn Saiki indulged in.

Or if Saiki was secretly Dark Reunion.

Or if Teruhashi had finally convinced Saiki to date her.

It would be nice to know that so they can start ragging on Saiki for going out with the most perfect girl in the entire world. It would be about time too, since it was pretty obvious to the rest of their friend group that Teruhashi crushed hard on Saiki. It was getting kinda painful watching Teruhashi pine after a clueless Saiki.

Kaido took Saiki's phone and examined it.

Damn. For someone whom no one at school knew had a personal smartphone, Saiki sure had an extremely nice expensive phone, one of the newest models, sleek and with all the bells and whistles. Where did Saiki get the money for such a nice phone? Even more surprising was Saiki did not even have phone unlock security on it.

Saiki should thank Kaido for being such a good friend and safeguard Saiki's phone and making sure that Saiki did not lose such an expensive item.

Looking slightly furtive, Kaido quickly checked the web browser history.

No usage? That was a little strange.

What about pictures?

Kaido frowned at that. Zero pictures. Not even default pictures.

Looks like Saiki's mom wasn't kidding when she wished her son would join the 21st century.

Next Kaido checked out the text message application.

Nothing too interesting, but there was activity.

A lot of messages from 'mom' was on the top of the list. The most recent messages had been asking for Saiki's whereabouts from three to four days ago. A long string of them that had the words "come get us" and "where are you?" for which Saiki did not respond. Earlier messages tended to be asking Saiki to get one thing or another.

There weren't as many messages from 'dad' but the message theme was the same. Dad was asking after Saiki, looking for his whereabouts. Or messages to get him to and from work.

Was Saiki running some sort of taxi service? Saiki got a motorcycle license, not a driver's license.

There was a couple of messages from 'grandma' that told Saiki that she got back to the house safely and requested that Saiki take 'mom' back to the house and that grandpa was doing okay after coming back from the hospital. That corroborated with the story that Saiki's grandparents were having health trouble.

Kaido was seeing a pattern. In none of these messages did Saiki respond.

There was one message from Saiki to a person named 'Kuusuke.' It was in line with the parental messages, it was a request for the person's whereabouts.

Man, Saiki's family sure spent a lot of time looking for each other and people. Maybe they were actually directionally challenged?

On a curiosity, Kaido looked through the call history.

It looked like Saiki's mom called the most, followed by dad and then by grandmother. Saiki almost never picked up. It seemed like Saiki really only called this 'Kuusuke' character, and from the look of it, about a dozen times a few days ago during some wee hours in the morning. There were no other calls.

Maybe Saiki regularly deleted call logs?

Oddly, all of this lack of communication with the outside world seemed to fit Saiki. It made Kaido even more determined to get that nebulous impromptu group outing together after school. Saiki's life was just so damn boring and it was the duty of a friend to spice his life up.

Kaido suddenly felt a shiver down his spine. He turned around.

Saiki came back from the bathroom and was standing behind Kaido, watching Kaido's shameless snooping through Saiki's phone.

"I'm just making sure your phone doesn't get stolen!" said Kaido.

Saiki gave the look that seemed to say -You seriously think I'd believe that?-

Kaido kept on smiling, despite the sweat drop down the side of his head.

The pink-haired young man sat back down opposite of Kaido again, seemingly not caring if someone was trying to pry into his life through his phone. He didn't even bother to retrieve his phone that Kaido gingerly pushed back to Saiki's side of the table.

Kaido seemed emboldened by the fact that Saiki didn't reproach him. Instead, Saiki went back to holding his cup of tea with both hands.

They've settled into an uncomfortable sort of silence.

Kaido was rarely with Saiki alone. The one time that Kaido could remember was when they stalked Nendo, when they thought Nendo was up to no good. It turned out that Nendo was only getting the usual memorial gifts for Nendo's family funerary monument. Just sitting here and talk was simply awkward. Maybe calling Saiki was not such a good idea?

In an effort to start a conversation, Kaido asked, "So, did you find this Kuusuke person?"

There was a loud crash sound.

Kaido turned his attention to the source of the sound. The glass windowpane at the opposite corner of the store appeared to have blown out spontaneously.

There was a yell from the ordering counter. The night attendant of the shop yelled "What was that!? Oh, the glass broke again! That's the second time this year. We need to sue the contractor."

"Wow. That's weird, isn't it Saiki?" remarked Kaido with forced ease.

Saiki seemed not at all perturbed. "I suppose." He absently twisted that muted gray ring on his finger, casually removing it and putting it back on several times. Saiki kept his eyes on the styrofoam cup, the usual blank expression on his face. "Why did you call me out here?" Saiki asked.

Now it was Kaido's turn to fidget. The original reason was that he was lost, in more ways than one. He needed one of his guy friends, people who didn't make him feel guilty for being who he is. A part of his soul, though, was afraid that if he said anything soft like that, that he would be teased for it. Or worst, rejected for it.

And just imagining getting teased by Saiki already made Kaido feel bad.

Actually, just looking at Saiki made Kaido feel bad for not answering sincerely. Kaido had never seen Saiki look this white. Saiki must have been really sick.

Kaido suddenly hoped that Saiki wasn't contagious.

Maybe the Dark Union had possessed Saiki?

"Saiki, did you know that you made first place in the midterms?" asked Kaido, deciding that was the appropriate lead-in topic.

"Oh." Saiki did not seem very happy about that. "I see."

Kaido blinked. It was not exactly the reaction that he was expecting. Every kid he knew who made it in the top quartile seemed pretty happy to achieve that ranking. The only person who seemed disappointed was the Tanihara, who was knocked off first place. Saiki had always been as cool as a cucumber, but Saiki seemed to be genuinely unhappy with being the exulted number one.

"How did you manage that, Saiki?" asked Kaido, not deterred by his friend's obvious displeasure from trying to understand. "I mean, you didn't just make first place. You got a full score. They even have someone from the university look at your exam and determine that you really are that smart. Even Akechi said that you're used always score number one." The facts were confounding to Kaido and it made him a little displeased. Friends don't keep such a big secret like that. "Why would you hide something like that?"

Saiki seemed to stare at Kaido for a minute, as if he was trying to determine whether to answer Kaido seriously or not. "Because I'm the idiot younger brother," Saiki said finally.

Kaido was not sure if Saiki was joking. "You got a full score, Saiki. How could you be called an idiot?"

Saiki seemed pensive. "Because it's true." He still fidgeted with the ring on his hand. "I didn't want to compete directly with him that way. It would've needed sincere effort and it was possible to lose." There was a brief pause. "Not that it matters now."

The answer made Kaido just stare at Saiki with obvious puzzlement on his face. What was Saiki talking about?

"Oh...Him. Your older brother!" Kaido realized, finally figuring out who Saiki was talking about "Wasn't he an exchange student in England? At some sort of local college?"

Per usual, Saiki gave the noncommital answer of, "Something like that."

Kaido kept on thinking, recalling the events of that England trip. Man, that was crazy. "Well, he didn't seem all that smart to me," said Kaido, trying to make Saiki feel better. Kaido was not the most observant young man ever, but even he could tell that Saiki's mood noticeably soured in the last minute.

"He wanted to play tag," Kaido continued. "What kind of grown man want to play tag? I don't know why my mom got the impression that he's a genius. I've heard that he came back this year," Kaido yammered a bit, trying to recall the conversation between his mom and Saiki's mom back at the store. Kaido was distracted with his phone at the time so he wasn't certain. "What's your older brother doing now? I bet it's nothing spectacular."

"Right now, nothing," responded Saiki, still look at the lidded styrofoam cup.

Kaido was slightly confounded. Was it him or the shop had gotten suddenly a lot colder?

Saiki's eyeballs rolled up to look at Kaido. It seemed to Kaido had made quick work of milkshake. "But, we're not here to talk about me," Saiki reminded Kaido. "You called me out here at one in the morning for a reason and it's not to talk about midterm."

Kaido's mouth became slightly agape. His mind was suddenly empty. Where to start? He had so much to say and nothing to say. A man did not ramble on about how strict their mother was. Saiki probably wouldn't understand since Saiki's mom was so completely hands-off.

Saiki stood up. He slid out of the booth.

"Hey. Where are you going?" asked Kaido.

"For a walk," said Saik.

Kaido followed like a puppy dog.

Once the two started walking and moving, Kaido felt the awkward tension from earlier melt. This constant moving, of doing things together, even if it was walking around aimless, was much more preferred than directly meeting the situation at hand.

Saiki must be still feeling slightly ill, because this was one of the rare occasions that Kaido was able to keep up with his friend's regular walking speed without having to trot.

Eventually, during the walk where Kaido talked at Saiki, Kaido mentioned, casually, of shopping with his mother and bumping into Saiki's parents hours earlier. Kaido tangentially discussed how his mother, Aoi, under the control of Dark Reunion, snatched Kaido's precious communication medium and challenged Kaido in front of the whole store of innocent civilians. Kaido heroically defended his friends from that monstrous woman's nasty insults and attacks, throwing down an ultimatum for her to correct her ways or be forever spurned woman, cast aside as a heedless civilian.

"Why would you say that?" Saiki asked.

"Say what?"

"Call your mother a monster."

Being so directly challenged, Kaido found himself stuttering.

"You don't have to answer me," said Saiki. He looked thoughtful again, mirroring his earlier mood, "Sometimes, those who care the most show it in the most inexplicable ways."

Kaido chewed on that for a bit. The general theme in school gossip was that mom and dad were the preventer of fun and always wrong. Life was about struggles against the restraints and wishes of the parents. The only people to be trusted are school friends.

Of course, people in Kaido's close friend group has generally the opposite of popular opinion. They generally reproached the popular anti-parent sentiment and took things like parental respect very seriously. The worst was probably Hairo and oddly, Kuboyasu. Even Saiko was very much outright obedient and reverent about his old man.

Kaido's thought train suddenly derailed as they turned a street corner.

Right there, in front of Kaido's face, was his house.

Saiki had somehow walked him straight home.

How did they get back to Kaido's house so fast? Kaido swore that he must have slow run/fast-walked to the edge of town.

Kaido would have demanded in his usual energetic fashion for an explanation of such betrayal. A true guy friend would have completely agreed with Kaido and encouraged Kaido to go with the desired revenge against such an impossible mother.

Except that Kaido's mom, Aoi, and Kaido's youngest brother, Toki, were sitting on a folding chair, out in the front door entrance swing gate. Aoi and Toki were asleep, with Toki sleeping on mom's lap. All the exterior lights of the house were lit, which was an indication that they were expecting people to come to the house.

His mother and youngest brother had been waiting for him to come home.

Kaido almost teared up at the sight.

"You jackass," came a very soft hiss from somewhere above.

It was Kaido's younger sister, the sixteen-years-old Sora, who was on the balcony. It seemed that she was waiting also.

"Couldn't you have come home earlier?" Sora groused some more, her voice barely audible from where Saiki and Kaido were standing. "Mom made us wait. The food has been cold for hours and I'm freakin' starving."

Sora's hiss woke Toki. The little boy blinked and immediately noticed that his older brother was home. "O-Nii-chan!" exclaimed Toki happily. He struggled out of his mother's lap and ran toward his brother for a leg hug. Toki was a short second grader and he barely got up to anyone's waist height. Toki latched onto his older brother's legs like a baby monkey. "You're back! The neighborhood's dedicated protector, the Jet Black Wing, has returned!"

Kaido's mom, Aoi, was the last to rouse. She took a moment to remove her glasses and rub her eyes. A look of relief came across her face before a mask of sternness covered her face.

"Sora, Toki. Go back inside," she ordered.

"Aww, but mom-" groused Toki.

Aoi cut Toki off. "No buts. Go back inside and wake up your father. Tell him that we can eat now."

"Okay..." muttered Toki, obviously unhappy with his assigned chore.

"Sora!" yelled Aoi so her voice could carry to the second floor.

"I know, mom," said Sora with a hand wave. She was a properly trained young lady who knew what her mother wanted. "I'll go heat up the food and reset the table."

Yes. Aoi had whipped her children to fully anticipate her wishes. Like all moms of the household, she was on top of the food chain who commanded complete obedience of her household.

Aoi took a look at the situation. Without words, she could tell that Kurumi's son had brought Shun back. Aoi was a proper mother and she knew Shun was directionally challenged. It had taken half a dozen tries to get Shun to remember where the cram school was.

She also knew that Shun would try to depend on his friends. Having known the moms of Shun's friends, Aoi was not so much worried. Her mom friends would keep her informed, if they knew anything.

How odd that Kurumi didn't let her know that Saiki-kun was the one her boy had picked as a good friend.

Kaido stood rooted to the spot about 2 meters away from his mother, mentally going through all the nasty, downright insulting scenarios that his controlling mother would do right in front of his guy friend.

Sure enough, Aoi did not disappoint.

"Young man," Aoi addressed Saiki like a scolding school teacher. "Does your mother know where you are at?"

Saiki, unflappable, gazed back steadily. "Debatable."

Aoi considered that and thought that sounded like Kurumi. "Well, stay here for a moment. Let me go get car keys and drive you home." She turned to her son and closed the distance between them. "Kaido Shun," she addressed, her voice steely.

Kaido stood stiff. He was going to get it now. Stupid Saiki and his betrayal. Saiki better not say anything to the guys or...Kaido didn't know what revenge he could threaten Saiki with, probably steal Saiki's coffee jelly or have Kuboyasu make Saiki do everyone's homework or make Saiki go out with Teruhashi. Wait, none of those punishments would be sufficient revenge and the third one would be somewhat of a favor. Time enough to be creative about payback later, when he can get everyone in on the same scheme. Kaido put as much promise of something unpleasant in that sideways look to Saiki.

Unexpectedly, Aoi hugged her son tightly. "I'm glad that you came back. Thank goodness you're okay."

The hug was long enough to make Kaido's face turn red in the face. Such physical touch was rare since he was no longer a kid. A part of him wanted to push her away, to publically denounce her years-long subjugation of making him into something he was not. He was in front of Saiki, for god sake. Kaido kept on thinking of Saiki making fun of him for being so babied. When that happens, Kaido would absolutely, positively just die.

Another part of Kaido was relieved and surprised that Aoi was not mad. He had finally drug up enough courage, since she did insult his friends, to tell her how awful and unreasonable she had been. At the same time, he was afraid of the consequences for such direct disobedience so he thought he had to made that decision for her.

Things did not turn out as badly as Kaido had imagined.

"Be a proper host and keep your friend company while I go get my car keys," said Aoi, going inside the house.

That left Kaido and Saiki in the little courtyard between the low front gate and the door.

Kaido rubbed the back of his head in the universal gesture of embarrassed nervousness. He muttered something about how ignorant civilians were about the powers of Dark Reunion.

Aoi came back to the front door in no time, with her usual purse and car keys. Toki was close behind.

"O-Nii-chan," Toki automatically grabbed Kaido's hand and began trying to pull him into the house. "You gotta come inside. Dad wants to know how you made a twenty-fifth place!"

"Toki, don't drag," cried Kaido, trying not to fall over.

Toki listened and reduced his pull to more of a persistent tug. In his eye, his older brother was the most important, most accomplished person in the world. Of course, Toki would obey his older brother's words.

Kaido felt quite embarrassed, being nearly pulled to the ground by such a pipsqueak. This was such a bad look in front of Saiki. Kaido snuck a look at Saiki, trying to see if Saiki was taking notes of this embarrassing family interaction for future blackmail.

Instead, Kaido was confused.

Of all the possible expressions that the usually nonchalant Saiki could possibly express, Saiki seemed....envious?

What would Saiki, the ranked first place of the third year at PK Academy, with a mom who more or less let him do whatever he wanted, be envious of Kaido for?

Aoi had already opened the carport gate and was getting into the car. "Come on, Kusuo-kun. I gotta get you home. You shouldn't be out so late. Kurumi must be worried."

"So, I guess we'll see you back at school next week?" asked Kaido at Saiki's retreating figure.

There was a noncommittal shrug for which Kaido assumed to be a 'maybe.'

Kaido watched as his mother drove off, with Saiki in the passenger seat. Kaido watched as the car sped off, a confounded expression on his face.

Kaido had the strangest feeling that he won't be seeing Saiki again any time soon.

Chapter Text

Kusuo scowled at the edifice of a lab. He had been standing there for probably an hour, just looking at it, taking the time to examine the details. He saw the painstaking utilities, the modern, minimalist design, and stark, clinical, cleanliness of its interior, the slow crawl of cleaning robots, endless neatly looped cables. There had to be thousands of tiny spare parts in the uncountable drawers in front of a computer server farm and hundreds of monitors.

Kuusuke's lab and home was a constant reminder of what Kusuo had lost and the carcasses of what his jerk of an older brother had left behind.

Which was a lot of crap.

A lot of crap that, in all of Kuusuke's infinite wisdom, did not leave to their parents, but left it to his underaged younger brother.

Kusuo understood why. Their father might be able to manage it, probably badly since their father wasn't known for long focused attention on 'crap' like this. His mother, as loving as she was, had probably not seen a bank statement for a couple of decades since she got married. Grandpa Kumagoro and Grandma Kumi were a definite no. It was unknown if Kuusuke knew about Grandmother Risa.

So everything got left to Kusuo. As for the underaged part, that would resolve itself in less than two months, when Kusuo turns eighteen in August. He would have full rights then. Even though his parents could technically make decisions for Kusuo on the newly inherited crap for the next couple of months, Kusuo was confident that neither of his parents would do such a thing.

Like Kusuo, the 'a lot of crap' was the last thing on his parent's minds.

Kusuo thought back to the day that the attorneys showed up.

There were four of them. The first three were from a law firm, somewhere in the United Kingdom. It was two men and a woman. One of them was even knighted by the Queen, a Sir Arthur Reeves. The fourth was a Japanese attorney who arranged for the translations and the activities within the country. They were all business, professional, and expedient.

They came, in a limo, early in the morning, probably before six, before anyone in the house got up. It had been soon after the night that Kusuo told his parents of Kuusuke's passing. It must have been only a couple of days, or less.

The attorneys were impeccably dressed in the expected tie, tailored business suite, pencil skirts, sort of overly formal clothing expected on body-guards or heads of state in the movies. They greeted the Saiki family courteously with expected words like "I'm sorry to say," "I'm sorry for your loss," "our deepest condolences," and "may we come in?"

They produced a death certificate, translated, stamped, and crimped legitimate by authorities in both the United Kingdom and Japan. 'Unintentional bodily harm' was listed as the cause of death. It was explained to the family that the investigative authorities figured Kuusuke entered the building via keycard access reading. That building burned down and he was the only person who was uncounted for. Taking into the evidence of how all Kuusuke's digital activities had ceased, a physical search of his usual haunts turned up nothing. The courts had considered the circumstances to be overwhelming evidence and issued the death certificate. The attorneys requested official copies in triplicate and reflective of all known pseudo names.

Kurumi ran upstairs when she saw the paper, bawling. It had finally hit her that big baby was truly gone.

Kuniharu stared at the paper, shocked. Like his wife, he did not fully comprehend Kuusuke's passing until then. When Kusuo told them, the idea that Kuusuke was gone did not seem real at the time. It took complete strangers in expensive suites to convince them to take Kusuo's words seriously.

Kusuo stood with his back against the wall, watching as the three attorneys sat on one side of the couch while dad sat on the other. The fourth, the translator, sat in a separate chair, explaining the issues to mostly Kuniharu. Kusuo crossed his arms and glowered like an immovable gargoyle sentry. Since these were unfamiliar people, he took off the germanium ring to hear their inner thoughts.

No subterfuge. They were consummate professionals with the allowable selfishness of a handsome fee for executing some legal documents. Still, Kusuo watched them for a bit before replacing the germanium ring back on his finger again. It was hard to focus on watching and listening to these people while his mother's desperate wail echoed in the background.

The attorneys were unruffled by the display of the Saiki family. They've handled many estate cases. Emotional highs were common and sometimes disingenuous. The scene they've witnessed caught no more attention than the stock ticker.

Then the attorneys produced the Kuusuke's will and the near hundred of signature pages.

Sir Arthur Reeves spoke with utmost politeness to Kuniharu, solicitously referring to Kuniharu as "Saiki-san." It would only make sense that such an intelligent young man like Kuusuke, with significant assets, would leave everything to his next of kin, which in this case, would be his parents, more specifically, the father. It seemed appropriate too, since Kuniharu was almost forty, with enough life experience to handle all the nitty-gritty details of his son's extensive possessions. It was not a typical practice for a young man in Kuusuke's circumstances to leave things to an even younger sibling.

It wasn't until it was time to sign the signature pages, when the attorneys requested identification cards, that they figured out that everything got left to "Saiki Kusuo."

Surprisingly, there was no video of a last will and testament, or anything personal written to the family. The whole thing was very transactional and business-like. The attorneys were here, then they were gone, dumping 'a lot of crap' on a pink-haired young man.

So Kusuo was now the owner of, and responsible for, 'a lot of crap,' without any instructions.

Which lead Kusuo to stare at the lab again.

He had half a mind to set it on fire.

He didn't want any of it. Just looking at it made his blood boil and eyes tear up at the same time. It reminded him too much of how he owed his life to that annoying, secretive, lying asshole.

But as recent experience had taught Kusuo, fires are bad. Fires destroyed the things that he needed. Fires killed love ones. And if Kusuo didn't do something about fixing his limiter problem, fire was going to get him too.

Kusuo might not ever want to use pyrokinesis ever again. In fact, he might do as much as he can to never use psychic powers again.

Psychic powers, as useful as it was, was a curse to fuck him over, just like how it already fucked over his older brother. Come to think of it, psychic powers fucked over a lot of people in the family already.

The cussing was intentional.

Kusuo's patience had been running thin these days.

And judging from his own reaction to it all, he could see why he wasn't told any of this until now. He doubted that he would be so controlled in his reactions say, even a year ago.

In the end, Kusuo walked over to the front door, deciding to go through the motions of looking at this property, this building, that was now his, like a normal person.

The front door was solid steel, and had a retina scanner for entry. Much to Kusuo's disgust, the unique shape of his retina was the access key.

Kusuo wasn't stupid. This simple act of going through the front door already raised a whole host of questions.

How in the world did Kuusuke obtain an image of Kusuo's eye without Kusuo turning the photographer, or Kuusuke himself into stone? Kusuo was certain that he would remember someone taking a closeup image of his eyes.

If the photo was taken remotely, then the image must have to go through Kusuo's green-tinted glasses. Was Kuusuke able to reverse process the photo?

And what if the power goes out or the retina scanner breaks?

What if Kusuo wanted to grant access to other people. How would he even do that? How could they even come here? Last time, he had teleported Toritsuka out of the area. Toritsuka did not even remember how he managed to get to the lab in the first place.

How did Kuusuke even get groceries regularly? Helicopter? The nearest town was at least 50 kilometers from here. Did he just land the helicopter at the grocery store parking lot? And if he did, where the hell is the helicopter?

Kusuo shook his head, as if trying to banish the thought train of too many question marks. It didn't work.

And to think that the lab was only one thing in the long list of 'a lot of crap'." Kusuo did read the will in the span of time that the attorney spread it out in front of him. Every page turn resulted in shock, amazement, and deeper and deeper disgust. For far too many times in the recent days, he felt like vomiting.

It was going to take him months to untangle the details. What the hell had Kuusuke been up to? How in the world did that crazy older brother of his ended up owning so much crap in such a short time? Did the time loops even affect Kuusuke the same as everyone else?

Kusuo did not have the time to reflect and complain about it too much. Putting affairs into order was better than facing the mess that has become his life.

The biggest thing had been that being at home had become unbearable.

Mom seemed to be taking it the hardest. She completely stopped making her meals and going to her neighborhood meetings. She cried and cried and cried. Whenever Kusuo or dad tried to soothe her, she only cried even harder. When she wasn't crying, she watched mind-numbing day-time TV, her gaze clearly showing that she was not even mentally computing what she was watching, tears rolling down her cheeks at intervals. She wouldn't even eat unless someone sat her down at the dinning room table and placed food in front of her, and even then, barely.

Dad was clearly using his job to distract himself from the fact that his eldest son was no longer around. He became the model worker overnight, getting up early to slip away and getting back late. He stopped talking about shoe licking or asked Kusuo for teleportation favors. Since interaction with mom had gone to hell, dad made many more excuses to be away from the house.

His parents had started sleeping in separate beds again. Kusuo was not about to attempt shared telepathy to get them to outwardly demonstrate love to each other and make up. Telepathy had told him that this time, his parent's dislike of each other was real and the reasons surrounded the time before Kusuo was born, when it was just Kuniharu, Kurumi, and Kuusuke.

There was still something around the time period that Kuusuke was taken away, that really bothered the couple. Whatever it was, his parents were sincerely blaming each other over it. This was one of those instances that Kusuo deliberately wore the germanium ring and made himself scarce. He honestly would rather not know.

And they still haven't told Grandpa Kumagoro and Grandma Kumi.

Grandmother Risa, having only recently reconciled with the family, seemed to take it all rather philosophically. She said that if she was needed, she would help. She left the unhelpful words of, "Grieving is a process."

Kusuo himself was doing marginally better. In general, the things he used to take pleasure in, the manga, the sweets, the cooking shows, and crappy games, had lost their automatic appeal. School seemed like a useless exercise. Eating was a chore. The realization that there was a very real time clock on his life if he ever broke his limiter was a damn awful fact to dwell on. Which was the primary reason that he was here, at Kuusuke's lab.

Kuusuke must have left some sort of evidence, some sort of plans, some sort of documentation about the limiters. There had to be spare limiters or limiter spare parts squirreled away in a drawer or a hidden compartment. There was no way that Kuuske, the master of elaborate games with too many detailed rules, old-people zombie army grand schemer, author of the 2,000-page owner's manual for a robotic cat, would not leave some sort of physical evidence about the construction of limiters.

The search exercise through Kuusuke's lab was a demonstration of how much God hated the creature named Saiki Kusuo and reaffirmation of the conclusion that Kuusuke existed to harass Kusuo.

Not a single thing.

Not a single scrap of paper.

Not a single piece of related spare parts.

Not even a shred of psychometry evidence of Kuusuke even building a limiter on a workbench.

Kusuo sunk into his older brother's swivel chair in what looked to the control center of the lab, teeth clenched. He felt as irritated as the day of the scavenger hunt, particularly the stupid test to finding the right card in that room full of thousands of cards. Kuusuke had imprinted repulsive images of fat, naked, smelly men licking, farting, rubbing the cards against armpits, in places between the legs, knowing how such images would be so easily detected by psychometry.

It was just so like Kuusuke to toy with Kusuo's life. What an awful older brother.

"Kuusuke, you goddam asshole," said Kusuo out loud into the air. "Couldn't you have at least left me a clue?"

Kusuo took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel his psychic powers feeding off his worsening mood, dissapating it in the air, creating cumulonimbus clouds in the surrounding areas, and generating mid-air lightning strikes.

"Why the f@%! did you have to go and die on me?!"

Kusuo would have started hyperventilating, break down, yell out even more cuss words, even cry. But he reminded himself that he was surrounded by computers, which might hold information to how Kuusuke put together the limiters. It wouldn't help him if he accidentally caused a lightning storm in the area and fry the memory drives and whatever was kept in them.

Stupid psychic powers. Why did it always help everyone else except for him? It saved the planet several times, but brought him nothing but personal grief.

-Self-pity is terrible form,- came the unbidden thought in Kuusuke's voice, but in that lilting tone of childhood, before puberty deepened the voice.

And that was another source of contention in the more recent days. Kusuo's theory that his older brother had a form of telepathy and practiced its derivative skills like mind control were correct, judging by the effects on himself.

At odd, random moments, bits and pieces of the past would bubble up, often with little or no context. It could be a phrase here, an image there, scattered out in the expanse of Kusuo's recollections without consideration of when the actual memory occurred.

At the same time, Kusuo had begun to note the gaps in his memory, gaps that had always been there, just never caught his attention before. They were often centered around stressful time periods. Like that time when he destroyed the classroom in second grade because Asuma, now Akechi, was being picked on and Takashi wanted Kusuo to join in the bullying. Kusuo had always attributed that memory gap to being so angry that his own mind closed off the details as a self-protective measure. Or that temporal abilities had impacted some of his memories. Until now, he never thought of the possibility that someone else messed with his memory.

Some memories gaps, though, were grossly flagrant. For example, for the life of him, he noted that he could not recall what he did to force a school transfer to PK Academy right between first and second year of high school. Whatever it was, the family had to move to a new house and start over with brand new furniture. Try as he might, he could not recall the details. All he could recall was that Kuusuke said, "You screwed up at your last school."

Kusuo was not about to ask his parents about the details either since: A) they're grief-stricken and B) Kusuo was not sure that knowing was such a good idea.

So far, almost all new information in the past couple of weeks had been bad. Kuusuke died. The burning. The flashover. First place ranking for midterms. The 'a lot of crap.' He almost thought that it would have been better if his parents did not know Kuusuke was gone, at least not until he figured out how to fix the limiter problem. Even now, Kusuo felt guilty that he was busy trying to preserve his own life rather than caring for his parents who gave him life.

Whoever came up with stupid platitudes like 'Ignorance is bliss' should have been beaten.

Kusuo slapped himself on the cheeks. No time to dwell on things he cannot change. He was not even going to attempt trying to change the past with time slip. Judging by how he failed to improve the outcome in the many times he had attempted it, he was certain that it was going to be wasted effort.

Now came the second part of searching Kuusuke's Lab. The part that would take far longer than the physical search of the lab.

Kusuo's hand hovered on the power button to the main computer terminal networked to the servers that hummed quietly.

It was time to search the intangible digital information.

Chapter Text

"You! Pink-haired intern!" barked a member of Psi Industries' board of director, Saul Bridgewater. He was a big man, clean-shaven on the top and bottom of his head, who appeared to have good inertia when he moved, owning to a rotund middle. He wore the standard business suite fare, with a black jacket, red tie, pressed pants, and Italian leather shoes. In his forties, with a booming voice, a pronounced jaw, he seemed to strike terror into anyone.

The said pink-haired intern, who was at the copier, looked back. He looked young, probably a yuppie in his first year at a university, living on mommy and daddy's money. He dressed warmly, with white collard long sleeves, and knitted green vest, gloves, khakis, and black suede shoes. Like one of those fabled avocado toast eating, precious snowflake Millennials, he wore one of those green-tinted glasses to look cool. His expression was decidedly stuck in a frown, clearly unhappy to be here.

The few other employees immediately ducked lower inside their cubicles, chatting through the office instant message program about the fate of this new person who just started that morning.

Saul's focus was still on this somewhat outlandish looking intern. He could understand why the intern was so unhappy. It was never easy to start a new job at a temporary location. They've set up cubicles and meeting space in the middle of an abandoned aircraft hanger per the emergency plan concocted at some point. The place was damp. There was no air conditioning. It was not the beautiful headquarters with its cafes, modern furniture, tastefully decorated with interpretive art located in lively downtown Cambridge.

No. That brand spanking new building of two years had burned down.

Everyone had made it out, except for the CEO of Psi Industries, Chairman Psi.

Which was part of the many reasons why Mr. Bridgewater was stalking through the area like the fabled leviathan, wreaking havoc, and fear as he goes.

As a major stockholder, the chief operating officer, a member of the board of directors of Psi Industries, Mr. Bridgewater's personal worth had decreased.

The loss of their Chairman was a major intellectual, financial, and personnel hit. The company was started initially to patent and make commercial headway on the Chairman's inventions and commercial headway did the company make. Anything from personal care products, to defense contracts, their Chairman could invent anything and it would be a hit. The Chairman was so creative and efficient that he kept a log of invention releases for the next God-known how long.

But inventing and creating products were not the only thing the Chairman dabbled in. He was an oracle who can predict the future and human behavior with uncanny accuracy. Stocks, trends, options, shorting. He personally negotiated many trades, garnering respect and fear in the business world. Even Saiko corp appreciated him as an opponent in business. Only the most senior negotiators were sent to discuss deals with Chairman Psi. It was said that only Chairman Psi had ever seen the Saiko Corp owner in person.

Rumor had it that Chairman Psi was also consulted by the heads of state.

And now, all that the Chairman Psi's reputations, his craftiness, all sunk because of a fire. The only thing that hasn't caused a complete sinking of the company was that stock ownership was private, held by the employees themselves with Chairman Psi being the majority owner of the stocks.

Things were in terrible disarray which suited Saul Bridgewater just fine. As technically the second-in-command, he saw it as an opportunity to take control of the company and take the majority of the profits from Chairman Psi's patents.

Things went swimmingly too. Bridgewater had pushed the paperwork through to get investigative authorities and the courts to issue the much-needed documents regarding the death of Chairman Psi. There was the issue that the body was never found so relying on circumstantial evidence to pronounce death usually took some encouragement. The board of directors had several emergency meetings to determine company ownership and direction. The necessary people were paid off and kickbacks promised.

Everything should be completed today, except for the wrinkle of Chairman Psi's will.

Somehow, stock ownership was traded like an estate due to how Chairman Psi set up the company as a quasi sole-proprietorship. The details were hidden in a few well-selected phrases in the articles of incorporation, that apparently, all the lawyers missed when Bridgewater was executing his grand master scheme.

Presently, Bridgewater threw a briefcase at the intern, aiming for the head, trying to relieve some of the frustration from realizing that, after all the fine planning, suffering through Psi Industries earlier years, that he was not going to get his due.

To Bridgewater's surprise, the intern caught the briefcase, without a problem.

The whispering chatter around them in the makeshift cubicles grew a couple of decibels.

"Go make twenty copies of whatever report that was in there," barked Saul, refusing to be impressed. "And you better make it quick. We're having a meeting of the Board at 10:00 a.m. Our new chairman is supposed to be here. He will likely want a debrief."

Saul stalked off toward the temporary board room which was one of the few actual office spaces in the hanger with condition space. His own personal assistant, a red-haired buxom woman followed him, looking panicked at her master's bad mood, but still had a moment to smirk at the hapless intern.

Back at the copier, three of the cubicle workers nearest to the copy machine, all looked to be in their mid to late twenties, get out of their cubicles and milled around the new intern. They gazed upon the intern sympathetically.

The intern looked like he was still supposed to be in high school, not a University student doing some real-world experience type. His expression was oddly flat, like he was not sure how to react to such treatment, so he did not react at all.

"Hey. Sorry mate, about Bridgewater," said one of the workers. The name tag indicated that his name was Hendrix. He was a tall stick of a person, with pitch-black hair and luminous blue eyes. "He's not usually like this."

"He probably thought that he was going to get the company," said another worker. This one's name tag said 'William.' He was a bold red-head and green eyes, with a full beard that made him automatically appear twenty years older. "Rumor said that the company got signed over to Chairman Psi's next-of-kin. It happened days ago."

"That's probably a good thing, right?" said Hendrix. "Bridgewater would've broken up the company. That bloke is famous for selling the less profitable part of the business and making short term gains. You know, standard venture capitalist strategy."

"Well, getting a family member as a new boss is probably just as bad too," said William. When pairs of eyes looked at him with puzzlement, he further explained, " It's hard to remember that Chairman Psi is younger than us and that standard estate laws mean that the next-of-kin is his father. I met his father before, when Chairman Psi was still in school and showing off the old testing bunker to his parents. Chairman Psi's dad didn't seem like he knew what he was looking at."

"Oh yeah. I remember that visit." remarked Hendrix, smacking a fist down into a cupped hand in an 'ah-ha!' moment. "He had a pretty brunette woman with him and we all thought it was his girlfriend. She turned out that to be his mom." Hendrix's expression turned wolfish, "She's pretty cute. I would date her."

"I know, right? She's such a MILF," said William with a wicked grin. "No disrespect to Mr. Psi, intended." He looked to the fresh intern and realized that he was talking to someone who was probably ten years younger and likely lived a sheltered life. It would be good to educate the young on adult matters. "Do you know a MILF is?"

The pink-haired intern had a half scowl that wordlessly said 'this-is-highly-inappropriate.'

William could not keep himself from teasing. "It means, 'mothers I like to fuc-'"

"You turds, get your head out of out of your pants," yelled a kind looking female employee, whose name tag spelled 'Violet.' Per her name, she had dark curly hair with a tint of lavender-color, black-brown eyes, and beautifully smooth olive skin from being of mixed ethnicity. She looked upon the pink-haired intern with kindness. "Ignore the prats," she advised sagaciously. "Here. let us help you with the copying. Do you know how to use these machines?"

Seeing a shake of the head, the woman continued her instructions. "See, touch here to wake it up. Then press this button to set the number of copies. What do you have to make copies of?"

The pink-haired young man opened the briefcase.

Violet looked sympathetically at the intern whose expression visibly blanched when he saw the first document.

On the very top was Chairman Psi's death certificate, in his actual name of 'Saiki Kuusuke.' Right beneath it was the documentation of Chairman Psi's pseudo name, 'Keith Psi', and holdings associated with that pseudo name. Chairman Psi was known for compartmentalization, separating his academic life from business life by using different known names.

As a respected scientist and academic, Chairman Psi's given Japanese name caught little prejudice from the ivory tower intellectuals of the world. In academia, Chairman Psi's given name commanded respect.

In business, though, a familiar name to the natives was absolutely necessary to secure contracts, arrange deals with the banks, and hence the pseudo name and how everyone in the business knew of Keith Psi. Some did realize that he had ninja letters for his given name, but most individuals would not know that at first glance. Chairman Psi's pale blonde coloring helped him blend in seamlessly into English society.

Several reports were underneath the all-important certificate and documentation of pseudo name, mostly insurance information, and extractions of ownership information. Combined, the paper stack looked to be at least 1,000 pages, single-sided.

"Blimey," uttered William, "The board is going to dance on his grave, aren't they?"

The pink-haired intern gently touched the death certificate. It was noted to be June 15. He seemed stricken.

"I know. We're all very sad at his passing," said Violet kindheartedly as she observed the newbie. "The world has lost a true genius."

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"Yo, mates, you remember what Chairman Psi was like?" asked William. "He was fun to be around."

"I don't know. He's pretty eccentric," said Hendrix. "He's got some wild assed ideas like reverse aging."

"I thought he was pretty charming and kind," said Violet.

"Shut up," said William to Violet. "Don't lie. Mr. Psi is a cutthroat deal maker. He can make anyone run away crying."

"Well, he can be quite terrifying. I don't disagree on that," admitted Violet. "It's probably why Bridgewater is so bold right now. Mr. Psi is no longer around to scare him into having manners."

"Yeah," Hendrix agreed a little sullenly.

The recent days had been pretty stressful. They all came back to work as if the massive fire that completely destroyed headquarters nearly two weeks ago did not happen. Payroll occurred last Thursday without a blip. Contracts were executed and products went out the door smoothly. Cloud computing backup went into action, causing access into the digital space to lag for only about five seconds once. New hires were seamlessly onboarded. Even the set up of this temporary office was planned and ready before the embers at headquarters were even cool.

That was the frightening efficiency by which Chairman Psi ran the company. Everything had a contingency plan and there was nothing that cannot be overcome.

"You know, this is just a bunch of bollocks," said William. "The next boss will probably run Psi Industries into the ground or just sell it. It's seriously time to look for another job."

"Well, I'd wait until we meet the new Chairman before I make that decision," said Hendrix. Seeing the curious looks about him, Hendrix further expounded. "I mean, Mr. Psi is one of those crazy exceptional people. He built this business while getting a doctorate at the University of Cambridge. His parents must've pushed and helped him along. Sure, his dad seemed so ordinary when I first met him, and frankly, distracted by touristy things. But who knows, maybe daddy-o is a genius too."

During the chatter, the pink-haired intern had started the copying process. He deliberately made the copies double-sided.

The three Stooges of Hendrix, William, and Violet took the hint.

"Here, let us show you show this office work can be done quickly," said Hendrix, taking a copy of the now 500-ish page packet.

In less than 5-minutes, all five copy machines in the makeshift cubicle office were running. The rest were of the people found binders, hole punchers, and an aluminum hand truck.

"Here!" said Hendrix proudly another five minutes later, presenting a hand truck of twenty bound copies, each binder about six centimeters thick, neatly placed and stacked in storage boxes for transportation. "All done."

The pink-haired intern frowned slightly, like he wasn't sure how to react to his new co-workers helping him out.

"Aww, he's so touched that he doesn't even know how to say 'thank you,'" cooed William.

"Shut up, you nincompoop, be nice to the newbie," said Violet. She smacked William on the back of the head. Then she turned her attention to the intern again. "So, where is your name tag? One of Bridgewater's assistants is going to eat you alive later if you're caught without one. They're weird like that."

The intern himself dug into a pocket and retrieved a name tag. It was a hard metal stripe about the size of a pinkie finger, with a protective plastic covering and a magnetic strip for clipping onto shirts. The name on the tag was "Kenneth."

"Well, nice to meet you, Kenny," said William happily, reaching over and shook Kenneth's hand. "Now, I know you're new to working and everything, but I gotta tell you one thing. Your handshake. You gotta not be so limp....ouch!" William retracted his hand quickly. "Blimey! That's some grip strength you have there. Hey, Hendrix come over here. Test out Kenny's grip strength!"

Now the intern seemed surprised by the reaction.

Hendrix came over and tested out the intern's grip strength. He was impressed. "Wow, mate! You're not wearing one of Chairman Psi's flexible power armors are you?"

"Shush!" yelled Violet. "That's not supposed to be public knowledge!"

In the middle of the horseplay, the obviously top-heavy red-haired woman from earlier waddled over to them. The mounds on her chest looked like they were about to spill out of her shirt. "Where are those darn copies!" yelled the woman in their general direction, "Meeting starts in twenty!"

"Oh no, hell bitch is coming," murmured Violet.

The intern looked to Violet, as if asking for a little more context.

"That's Tyra, and yes, it's pronounced 'tie-ra,' and yes, she's exactly what you think she is to Bridgewater," said Hendrix. "Quick, everybody, look busy!"

In the span of a second, the three stooges slipped right back to their cubicles, looking ultra-focused on their computer monitors.

The poor intern was then by himself, with a hand truck stacked full of binders and paper, standing rather awkwardly next to a copy machine.

The woman named Tyra stalked over, her three-inch needle-thin heel clicked ominously as she approached the intern named Kenneth.

"Where have you been-" Tyra looked down at the odd-looking four-eyed young man. Man, he was short. He did not even look old enough to drink(1). Tyra herself was about a head taller than him. "Kenneth?!" She tapped her expensive smartwatch. "You've been out there for half an hour!"

The intern looked at the hand truck, as if presenting proof of his hard work.

Tyra appeared to be examining the intern's work, a scheming look overcame her face before she suddenly declared, loudly, to him "Leave."

The intern tilted his head slightly and didn't blink.

Slightly taken aback by the non-reaction, Tyra clarified. "You're fired,"

Oddly, the intern crossed his arms and just stared at her steadily as if saying 'what are you talking about, lady?'

That was the problem with Millennial. They want reasonable explanations for everything, like they expected life to be fair.

Well, time to put this entitled little boy in his place.

"You're done. You have no business being here. I don't know who hired you, but whoever-it-is is gonna be fired too."

The presumptuous intern had the nerve to roll his eyes at her.

The interaction was plainly visible to the surrounding cubicle-land workers. By now, half of the dozen people were standing up in their cubicles, fascinated by the real-life drama that was the obvious assistant with benefits to the chief operating officer. The story of the legendary showdown between the current boss's sugar baby and the nubile intern was being spread through instant messaging to the other workers who had to work from home due to cubicle space limitations.

Violet, who was physically close to the action, stood up on her half heel and yelled over the chest-height cubicle wall. She had heard Tyra's overreach of authority.

"Now, just a second," Violet interjected, "just because you're butt-buddies with-"

"Violet, you want to be canned, too?" threatened Tyra with a maddening half-grin on her face, cutting Violet off.

The peril of being unemployed by this hussy only incensed the social justice warrior within Violet. "If that means I get to wipe the floor with you, then yeah, sure!"

"Ooo, chick fight!" whispered William just loud enough for others to hear.

Several more people stood up in their cubicles, or had sneakily gotten close, like groundhogs popping out of their den. By now, the yelling had gotten the attention of the makeshift cubicle land.

"You're willing to lose your job over this nobody?" asked Tyra incredulously.

"If your fuck buddy gets his way, he's gonna find a way to fire all of us anyways," reasoned Violet. "So I might as well slap that grin off your face while I'm at it."

"Chick fight. Chick fight," chanted William.

By now, there was somewhat of a semi-circle around Violet, Tyra, and Kenneth, with Kenneth looking like he just wanted to get on his next task.

The two women were at a standoff like two mixed martial arts fighters, glaring at each other so hard that a ball of electricity could be imagined in between the two.

"What's going on here?" boomed the voice of Saul, almost shaking the rafters.

At the sound of Saul's voice, all the worker bees scampered back to their cubicles, pretending to look busy.

Saul heavily padded back from the meeting room, looking like fumes were coming off the top of his head. "And where are those damn copies? It's ten minutes to start! Most of the board are already waiting."

The attitude of the pretty woman named Tyra completely transformed back to a supplicant. "Right here, Mr. Bridgewater," she said sweetly. "I had to do the work since this worthless monkey doesn't know how to use a copier."

"Now wait a sec-" started Violet before Hendrix covered her mouth and dragged her back to the cubicles.

"Collateral damage," whispered Hendrix into Violet's ear.

"But!" protested Violet.

"Don't fall on your sword, Violet," said Hendrix. "Plenty of time to do that later."

At the moment, Mr. Bridgewater was giving praising his personal assistant Tyra for her ingenuity and quick action while obviously giving the pubescent intern a much-needed vituperation on this haughty Millennial. Mr. Bridgewater's jowls trembled and shook like the fleshy caruncle of a turkey.

The damn intern had the nerve to step sideways to avoid the spittal from Bridgewater's mouth. His expression seemed as flat as before. He took a deep breath, as if he was the one being inconvenienced. He picked up the hand truck by the handle, already rolling the hand truck of bounded paper away toward the meeting room, completely ignoring Bridgewater's very public reprimand.

The cussing started, where the vein on Bridgewater's temple popped out, anime-style.

During this time period, one of those people who dressed in too formal of a business suite, an obvious indication of an attorney, had entered the hanger, wheeling a rolling briefcase. Like many of the curious employees, he took a minor detour to the middle of cubicle land, looking into excitement.

"What's going on here, Saul?" asked the attorney. The two appeared to be long time professionals and knew each other long enough to be on first name bases.

"Oh. Arthur Reeves," acknowledged Bridgewater. "It's these damn silver-spoon fed Millennial, They expect everything to be handed to them." He looked around the peeping heads that looked furtively toward their direction. "Get back to work!"

Like frightened snakes, everyone slithered back to their work station, this time, not even craning their neck to hear bits of juicy gossip.

The pink-haired intern had come back to cubicle land again after dropping off the paper products. He returned to a rather peculiar work station that was marked for "K. Psi."

Unlike everyone else's standard two-monitor work stations, the intern's work station was far more extensive. He had nine monitors, stacked three by three, his working surface was a built-in tablet, two keyboards. Several large computer towers were tucked beneath the work surface, muted green lights indicating operations. Program codes scrolled through each of the monitor screens too quickly for a normal human to comprehend. The intern mutely observed the rapidly scrolling codes with a machine-like focus, blinking at exactly every twenty seconds.

Oddly enough, no one had commented on how far more extensive this one intern's workspace was, compared to the other cubicles. Or how this one intern had been here since about midnight, staring at endlessly scrolling computer code for hours.

Meanwhile, Saul and Arthur exchanged pleasantries. They had benefited each other from time to time, with Saul throwing business deals to Arthur and Arthur reviewing and executing lucrative contracts.

The two, along with Saul's lady assistant, moved themselves a distance away from the bustle of the cubicles to a waiting area immediately outside of the meeting room for the board of the directors.

"So, what are you doing here, Arthur?" asked Saul.

"Retainer," said Arthur. "Your new chairman asked me to come to help look over some of the documents."

"Ah, the psycho's next of kin," said Saul, sarcastically. "His father, Kuniharu Saiki? Isn't it? I've got the model Gundam kits, bistro reservations, translated graphic novels, and an all-expense-paid month-vacation in London for him and his wife."

At those words, Arthur shook his head in disapproval. "Saul, you probably should be a little more sensitive than that. Their son just died. There is not even a body for them to bury or mourn over. Vacation and trinkets are probably the last things on their minds."

Saul kept on going, "Then I'll make a memorial park out of the old office building footprint. Tyra, love, did you get all of that?"

"Yes," said Tyra, busily writing notes with a stylus onto a pad of paper. "On company charge?"

"Of course," said Saul. "I'm certainly not going to pay for it."

Unbeknownst to them, a certain pink-haired intern who was in the tripped out-cubicle just silently ticked his tongue at one of the many screens. Then, in rapid succession, each screen, popped notification in red display 'STRING SEARCH COMPLETE. 'LIMITER' ; 'TELEPATHY CANCELLER' NOT FOUND.' He slouched in the chair, staring at the results in obvious displeasure. He allowed himself to stew for a bit until he heard hail hitting the hanger roof. He tapped through the command menus to shut down the computers and monitors. It was time to move on.

Back to the three people who were chatting outside the meeting room, Arthur seemed ill at ease, as his business acquaintance kept on talking.

"I've looked into him," remarked Saul. "This, Kuniharu. He's a small-time editor at some third-rate manga publishing company, Shuensha. I hear that he wasn't very good at his job, and spent most of the time kissing up to the bosses."

By this time, the pink-haired intern had approached the meeting room. He stopped momentarily at the water dispenser.

"Shuensha was bankrupt at one point," Saul continued. "and that psycho actually came up with a wildly successful product and donated the profits to keeping that publishing company going. 'Familial sentiment,' that cold-blooded bastard had said. Can you imagine that? That nutjob actually having sentiment?"

It was at this time, the pink-haired intern approached the group of three outside the meeting room. The young man walked purposefully toward the meeting room door, fully intent on entering the room without acknowledging the three.

Before Saul could start another round of verbal reprimand and fire this disrespectful, good-for-nothing, Millennial, Arthur interjected.

"Ah. Saiki-san, wait a moment." Arthur addressed this pink-haired Millennial politely,

The said Saiki-san stopped in his track. He turned around, his lips still stuck in that half of frown.

Arthur, the consummate professional, completely ignored it. "I mean, Mr. Psi," Arthur corrected himself, "That is the name that you would like to be known here at Psi Industries, correct? In keeping with your late brother's pseudo name usage practices?"

The pink-haired intern nodded subtly.

"Ah. Very good," remarked Arthur. He then gently pushed Saul closer to the young man. With all the proper tones, Arthur continued.

"Saul Bridgewater, I want to introduce you to Kenneth Psi, the younger brother of the late Chairman Psi, and your new CEO, and Chairman of Psi Industries."

Chapter Text

At the words of unmistaken introduction of his new boss, Saul flinched. He looked at the pink-haired young man incredulously.

The said young man stared back, boring holes through Saul's head.

Saul shook a little when his mind quickly replayed their very first interaction.

Did he seriously just threatened bodily harm to his new boss? And treated him like a lowly boot-licker?

Where the heck did this kid come from anyway?

How could Saul, one of the closest people to their late Chairman, have missed the existence of a younger brother?

In all the time working with their late Chairman, in setting up the company, making hands over fist profits, Saul made painstaking efforts to learn about the mysterious genius who came to study at Cambridge University on a full-ride scholarship.

Saiki Kuusuke, in the manner that he was named, or as he was known in the business world as Keith Psi, seemed to know and can do everything. Alarmingly precocious by the very fact that he came to the United Kingdom on his own at age fourteen, Keith easily set up a company and begin to make money off his endless inventions and patents. Keith had specifically sought out Saul Bridgewater, understanding that there was a need for established business connection and calling out personal favors in bringing products into retail.

It was a mutually beneficial agreement, one where Saul was paid a handsome salary, provided with an expense account, and ran the business details.

Saul understood the importance of knowing the personal lives of business associates, made a point to investigate the uncanny polymath who started Psi Industries.

After so many years, he could only figure out their late Chairman had parents named Kurumi and Kuniharu and that their late Chairman regularly checked in on those said parents.

In all this time, how in the world did he miss that their late Chairman had a younger brother? And one with an appearance as eye-catching as this one?

Saul felt a shiver down his spine as he took ten seconds to study this unassuming young man with the usual magenta-pink hair.

The underlying resemblance and presence between the two brothers were eerie.

The set of the bones on the face was attractive with that feminine touch.

That unfocused look of the eyes, like they look straight through people.

This undercurrent of spontaneous destructiveness about them, like childish gods who enjoyed breaking people like they enjoyed the popping sounds of bubble wrap.

Saul swallowed hard when he held out a hand for a handshake. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Psi. My apologies for earlier."

This young man did not take the hand. He continued to stare through Saul, like one of those blind people who never seemed to focus their eyes.

"Oh wait. You're Japanese so you don't understand English," said Saul mostly to himself in relief. That meant that none of his more embarrassing selfish words were understood and that it could be passed off as a misunderstanding.

At that, Kenneth responded in a calm, deadpan voice, in the perfect accent of a British native, "'Cold-blooded bastard' is too kind of a description for him ."

Saul felt cold sweat roll down his back when he heard those words.

So this child had overheard, and understood him.

"Oh, Mr. Bridgewater was only speaking to our late Chairman's business savvy," said Tyra with presumed innocence, trying to diffuse the situation. She opened her eyes wider, stood up straighter so her chest is more pronounced. She seemed to have completely forgotten shrieking at the pink-haired young man earlier.

The said young man's expression was unreadable. He did say to Tyra, "I'm sure you're glad to know that the person who 'hired' me had already been fired on the 15th."

The woman nodded along with a plastered smile and batted her eyes prettily, no even realizing the underlying double-meaning in that statement. "Of course, sir. You can count on me."

At least Saul had the presence of mind to have his face pale at the woman's response.

Their new chairman did not even change his flat expression as he noted to Saul, "You sure do pick the smart ones, don't you?"

Saul laughed nervously, partially in embarrassment and partially in unease. The words he said to the woman, though, were forceful. "Tyra, love. Shut up from now on."

The curvaceous woman's facade of a beautiful escort from some sexual fantasy fell immediately. She was used to having certain powers and privileges from providing bodily favors. She was about to complain, in a cute testy way, but was cut off.

"You know, I'm impressed," said Saul to the youngling, hoping to salvage the situation with a little flattery and jokes, "You have such a good poker face. Are you sure you're not one of your late brother's androids?"

"I am not," said this young man with an unnerving even tone.

The certainty annoyed Saul. He had to ask, "Did you even know that he made androids?"

"Of course I did. He tried to ruin my life with an android clone of me months ago."

Saul felt a bead of sweat rolling down his back. Was this child serious?

But then again, with Keith Psi's prodigious mind that traipsed on the edge of insanity, Saul wouldn't put it past him.

"So what happened?" Saul asked.

"I destroyed it."

"How?"

Without missing a beat, this pink-haired new boss said, "With my fist."

Saul chuckled nervously. "Why would he do that?"

There was a pause before the almost wistful answer. "It was the only way we could play."

Saul was not sure why, but he felt more cold sweat appearing on his face. What an unnerving conversation! He had a feeling that this young man meant every word.

Saul ran ahead, opening the door to the meeting room for his brand new boss, as well as some more others who were running into the meeting. Saul felt even more sweat rolling down his back, staining his shirt as people congratulated him surreptitiously.

Oh yeah. Saul did recall that this was the meeting for the hostile take over. It was assumed that Kuniharu Saiki was going to be their CEO in name for about ten minutes before the Board of Directors votes Saul to lead the company. More importantly, to directly take over the inherited stock in a zero-dollar transfer to Saul's name. Once that happens, Saul can take the company public and make out with millions.

All his acting outside the meeting room was for show, to deflect the appearance of collusion.

He quickly looked at that pink-haired young man.

The look back to Saul almost caused him to have a heart attack.

It was the same as their late Chairman, that knowing look of a child watching an anthill that he was about to kick over, douse it with gasoline, and light it with a match.

­-Get yourself together, Saul! This is just a child! There is no way that he knows what's coming- Saul told himself. There was still a way to salvage this. He still had the necessary Board of Directors in his pockets.

This brat was not going to make a fool of an experienced business professional such as him.

Self-assured, Saul spent some more time chatting with the member of the Board of Directors about the details, before starting the meeting.

-------------------------

In the meeting room, the members of the Board of Directors were sitting around a solid oak table, each in a heavily cushioned ergonomic chair. There were fold-out chairs lined the walls, where the assistants to the said directors were seated. A few more of the middle managers and titled employees were seated along the walls too. As expected of a high-tech company, large monitors lined the walls and nearly everyone had a laptop set up. The only person who didn't have one of the laptops set up seemed to be the hapless pink-haired intern who had somehow been allowed in the meeting room.

Everyone was in well-tailored suites, except for a couple of younger workers who ignored such archaic conventions. People chattered excitedly, since they knew that they would be meeting their brand new chief executive officer. One of the assistants, surprisingly, was William, one of the worker bees from cubicle land earlier.

"Oi mate! Kenny!" William waved the pink-haired young man over. He pointed to the empty fold-out chair next to him. In fact, there were a couple of empty seats. "Here's a seat!"

Kenny seemed to hesitate for a moment. This was the corporate lackey who had tried to educate him on the term MILF earlier. In the end, though, seeing that everyone else in the room was much older, and giving him condescending looks, Kenney paced over said empty chair and sat down.

"This is exciting, eh?" remarked William to Kenny. "The board will declare the new CEO and chairman at this meeting. I'm anxious to meet our late Chairman's dad again. I wonder if he remembers me." William craned his neck a bit, scanning the crowd of the board of directors and assistants. "Although, I don't I see him....Ha. It looks like Tyra got pwned. I've never seen her so flustered!"

Poor Kenny did not seem so bemused. In fact, he looked gloomier than he did earlier when he was getting yelled at by the top brass of the company.

They sat the good distance away from the long table of thirteen seats of which twelve seats were occupied. At the moment, the big wigs seemed to be chattering with each other and at Bridgewater, furiously discussing something. The formal meeting seemed to be delayed. Bridgewater appeared to have it out for William since the man regularly glanced toward William's direction with undisguised contempt.

"Great first day, eh, Kenny?" said William, noticing the determined, animalistic looks from Bridgewater's direction. Looks like Violet was right that Bridgewater was going to somehow give them all pink slips. The slaves in research and development never get any love. "So who invited you to this meeting?" asked William, "Only the big wigs and their assistants are supposed to be here."

Kenny seemed distracted by the chatter at the large table. The chatter was barely loud enough for the two to hear. Still, Kenny actually spoke, in a smooth voice, rich tone, and perfect accent. "My older brother."

"Hum, that's unusual," noted William. "Chairman Psi is usually against nepotism in hiring, unless they're stupidly talented. Who is this brother of yours? Is he one of the managers?" William took a peek around the room, looking for someone who might even look like Kenny. "Is he here?"

"Not anymore," muttered Kenny distractedly, his gaze was distant as he watched the leadership of Psi Industries seemed to reach a conclusion in whatever they were trying to resolve.

William looked puzzled for a moment. He noticed that the question was hitting a nerve, judging by the terse, cryptic response.

What a surly, morose newbie. This kid needs to loosen up.

"So what's your background?" asked William, chatting was a good way to pass the time while the Board of Directors gets their act together. "It must be something amazing for you to work here. I have a statistics degree from Oxford." He said smoothly, with undisguised pride in his voice. "I studied under the mathematician Doctor Andrew Wiles, who is on the Board of Directors here." he pointed to a skeletal looking gentleman who looked like he owned a closet full of tartan shirts, pants, jackets and mothballs. "I actually do research for him so that's why I'm here."

The response from the pink-haired intern was short, "High school."

William made a face of understanding. No wonder this kid had such a poor attitude. He's still a baby! "We have high school interns now?" Then, realizing truly how young this kid was, a wicked look overcame his face. "So you wanna know how you can get around the internet restrictions on the virtual private network? You know, so you can watch the racy stuff while you're here and not get the attention of those information technology pricks?"

"This is highly inappropriate," reminded Kenny, now verbalizing his earlier assessment.

Oddly enough, this only encouraged William. His voice dropped conspiratorially. "It's nothing bad, you know. Ol' Chairman Psi, god bless his soul, knew about it. I think he allowed it because it irritates the old farts on the Board of Directors. I swear, he enjoys needling people."

"That sounds like him," said Kenny.

"I know! He's gonna be missed," said William. "So once the meeting is over, Let's go for a drink at the pub. You, me, Violet, Hendrix, and the rest of us young chaps to celebrate your first day. I know it's a little early, but I'll buy you a round. You are old enough to drink, right?"

Kenny shook his head. "Some other time." He took a moment to take off those crazy green-shades of his and rubbed his eyes. He seemed to be quite careful to make sure those shades were back on his face before opening his eyes. "I'm fairly tired."

"Noob, it's 10:30 in the morning!" reminded William.

"It's 6:30 at night right now where I'm from," said Kenny. He suddenly grimaced, as if his head was hurting. It went away quickly and he seemed right back to his dour self. "And it's been a couple of hellish weeks."

William made a face. Something was fishy here. "That's an eight-hour difference! That would put you in the Far East. Wait, you are a rep from our Asia office?"

Kenny didn't confirm or deny. Instead, his attention was back on the chatter of the twelve board members, now looking ready to start the meeting. "And it looks like I'm up."

"What do you mean?"

The attorney from earlier actually walked past the other assistants and managers sitting on the fold-out chairs along the walls. "Mr. Kenneth Psi."

William blinked.

Kenny looked up. "Arthur."

"The pleasure of the Board of Directors is yours, Mr. Psi," said Arthur.

"Time to get this over with," said Kenny with a sigh.

William watched, first in confusion, then, slowly, disbelief overcomes his face as this pink-haired intern, whom William had teased, helped with making copies, went and sat down at the head of the long table of the Board of Directors.

The pink-haired intern was expressionless as he spoke.

The look of disdain on the Board of Directors' faces was unmistakable. They gave manufactured smiles and nodded along, as if they were entertaining a five-year child.

Whatever speech the pink-haired intern said was lost on William. His mind quickly raced through the recollection of their interaction this morning.

William's freckled pale face turned almost gray as realized the critical clue Kenny said a little earlier, about the brother who hired him was no longer here.

-Holy bloody hell! He's the new boss man!-

The next thought was equally death-inducing.

- Oh bollocks! Did I really just said to the new boss man that I would F@#! his mom?-

William reminded himself to ask Violet and Hendrix to beat him over the head with a Wiffle bat, if he was still employed at the end of the day. Him and his stupid mouth.

He didn't have a chance to ingratiate himself to the new boss as all the middle managers and the assistants were ordered out of the room, leaving their brand new pink-haired boss alone with the twelve members of the Board of Directors.

----------------------

Seated at the fancy meeting table, Saul spoke with the undisguised grin of a robber baron. He said, presently, "We're pleased to meet you, Kenneth Psi. Why don't we go around the room and everyone introduce themselves."

"No need," said their brand-new pink-haired chief executive officer. He might not look the part, without the all-important necktie and collared jacket, he certainly had the grim look of a perpetually displeased boss down. "Business will proceed as per the strategic plan for the foreseeable future."

Saul allowed momentary dissatisfaction to appear on his face. "Well, I think that in this unusual time, we should call for a vote on the direction of Psi Industries," he said with a tone of a father patiently explaining a difficult concept to a child. "It's the way we do things in the business world." He smiled genteelly. "The Articles of Incorporation requires a two-thirds majority of the stockholders on matters such as this. I motion that we-"

"Finish that sentence and unemployment will be the least of your worries," said Kenneth Psi. He looked about the Board of Directors through those green-tinted glasses, serious. "And it's majority of stock ownership. Do not lie to me again."

Saul still kept that refined smile, though his teeth grind a little. He felt the uncertainty return - What a rascal!- he thought. "Mr. Psi, please be reasonable. I just thought that since we've lost your beloved late brother that we might reevaluate-"

"There is nothing to reevaluate," declared Kenneth. He looked about the Board of Directors and the room. "I've read the plan. It's superior to anything all of you combined can come up with. The executive leadership will remain and business will continue as planned." Kenneth seemed to focus on Saul. "You're keeping your position because he didn't care whether you worked here or not."

The look directed at their new chairman was patronizing, like their new owner was simply an arrogant know-it-all petulant teenager who they had to deal with. They began to talk, one over the other, about the demerits of the current plan, and how they must redirect Psi Industries to other brand new growth areas.

Their pink-haired child Chairman sat back in the chair. The look he gave was enough to burn holes into walls.

"You know, I was originally going to sell back my inherited shares and let you do whatever the hell you wanted with his company. He left me too much to deal with anyway. But you all irritate me," said Kenneth with a vindictive edge to his voice.

"Stop being an impudent brat," remarked a member of the Board of Directors.

In that instant, the power shut off. The room was immediately dark, without the glow of monitors.

"What, you're going to scare us into doing what you want with parlor tricks? Well tough," said another. "I wish to nominate-"

The laptops of the ten of the twelve members of the Board of Directors were flipped open, as if compelled by an unknown mechanism. The screens were white except for a word or an image. Those words and images flickered for three seconds, long enough for the member to recognize the word before the laptops were closed, the operating system shut down.

The lights turned back on, as if nothing had happened. The event lasted ten seconds, just short enough to assume that it was group hysteria.

Immediately, those ten faces, turned all sorts of colors. Gray, green, orange, red, purple. The only similar theme was that they were all suddenly quiet, with looks of shock and disbelief.

"How!? How did you know?" said a board member, he looked like he just saw a ghost.

"You're...you're...you're-" another board member uttered, but did not finish. She looked ready to bolt.

"You're blackmailing us," accused another board member.

"No. I'm extorting you," Kenneth Psi corrected.

For a moment, the room was silent. So silent that people could hear each other's breaths.

"So you are like your brother," said Andrew Wiles, one of the two whose laptop did not flip open. "A genius who knows people's deepest secrets at a glance. A master of wills and unpredictability."

"Andy!" reprimanded Saul, still trying to salvage the situation. "You're speaking about Mr. Psi's older brother! Show some respect!"

"Oh Please, Saul," said Andrew with a sigh. "You knew Keith Psi could crush anyone one of us with what he knows. Did you really think a relation of his wouldn't be as precocious and exacting as he was? Or that he has any esteem for respect from any one of us?"

There was silence around the room again and the twelve members of the board reminded themselves of the personality of their late Chairman. They recall their late Chairman's youth, back when the company was first established, and how this interaction was a repeat of that same time period.

Except their late Chairman bothered to emote on his face, to pretend to be human.

Their new Chairman did not grace them with such courtesy.

"A couple of years ago," Andrew continued, eyes distant as he reminisced, "when Doctor Kuusuke Saiki was a guest graduate lecturer at Oxford, gracing us with his brilliance, he mentioned to me in passing that there was one person to ever surpassed him at anything, a person whom he could not motivate beyond the average. That person was younger than him, so he had books with plans of these nearly infantile games to goad that person into doing more." He looked to the pink-haired young man. "I'm going to guess that was you."

Kenneth did not respond. There was a minute twitch of the facial muscle, though.

"I am sincerely sorry for your loss," said Andrew, in that same distant look of a stereotypical professor, "Kuusuke was..."

"....Kuusuke," said Kenneth in a thought-terminating manner. He looked even more grim, if possible, like if he wanted to drop a bomb on this location.

Andy's look was philosophical and undeterred. "Young man, you were selected over his natural next-of-kin to inherited his possession for a reason. So you have my vote for whatever you wish to do with Psi Industries." In a steady, dry, professorial voice, he said, "I motion that we reaffirm the strategic plan and Kenneth Psi as our chief executive officer and chairman of the board. Do I have a second?"

"Second!" cried a board member a little too quickly.

"Now, wait a moment..." Saul interjected, his previous calm completely shattered by now, seeing his planned ambition falling through without as much as a whimper.

"All those who agree, say 'aye,'" said Andrew.

The agreement was weak, but there were no 'nays.'

"Motion passes," declared Andrew. He stood up, well-practiced like the subtle plan that Saul had worked up with other members of the board were nothing but a dream. "We, the Board of Directors of Psi Industries, reaffirm you, Kenneth Psi, as our chief executive officer and Chairman of the Board of Directors." There was a brief pause. "What will be your first action?"

"I motion to adjourn," said the young man, as if he was used to Robert's Rules of Order all his life.

The 'second' to the motion and the agreement could not have come faster to nearly all people in the room.

Chapter Text

Two weeks.

Two, almost three weeks, fourteen school days, eighteen days. It was already July, less than a month before summer break.

Teruhashi looked worryingly at the empty desk next to her from the corner of her eyes.

When was Saiki-kun going to come back?

The teacher droned on about classic literature happily, knowing that the only student who mattered in the world, Teruhashi, was paying attention. That was the power of the most perfect woman in the world.

Indeed, Teruahshi's perfection was still working flawlessly, and she dared say that it worked even better than last year. There was a hushed level of 'offu's from the male, and sometimes female, students in the class. There were more pronounced gasps from the male students who made excuses to get out of class so they can walk past Class 1, and catch a glimpse of the goddess.

Her friends though, particularly Chiyo, caught the slight dimming of her ever-present glow.

Teruhashi was the perfect actress, capable of looking like she was paying attention while she thought back to when she last saw Saiki.

He had been walking home, after mid-terms, looking like he wasn't feeling well.

Fortunately, all their annoying friends and interloping admirers were distracted by the impromptu ramen trip to de-stress from midterms; she had the very much rare occasion to have him alone to herself. It was nearly half an hour of pure bliss, one where she deliberately walked slower than usual after her initial exuberance. They held hands, like a couple, and she indulged in a silly girl's dream of a domestic future with the two of them holding the hands of miniatures mixed versions of herself and Saiki.

In hindsight, which was once she got home that day, she realized that it was rather immature of her to think of such things. They weren't even dating. She didn't even like children. Saiki seemed completely disinterested, like he always did.

And how dare he act that way toward her?

Saiki was the type of normal boy who should have genuflected at the mere thought of her. He should have uttered so many 'offus' that his lips swelled shut. Instead, Saiki reacted to her like she was air, the very bottom of the social hierarchy.

Any other boy or girl, Teruhashi knew the exact action to elicit admiration and worship. The simple daily count of 'offu' coming her way gave her that rush of dominating pleasure like the evil queen of a fairy tale who had just kicked the asses of the annoying princess and the pesky fairy godmother.

Saiki was different.

Saiki never reacted to her perfection.

Saiki was emotionally flat and cold like the Siberian Tundra.

Saiki was unimpressed by anything.

Saiki was so god-awfully average that it was frightening.

Saiki's indifference to her was infuriating and Teruhashi had made a point to be even more perfect as practice and get that ultimate 'offu.'

It was the appropriate payback for the weird things that he made her do. The butterfly fluttering in the pits of her stomach when she considered time with him. Her compulsive change in her plans upon knowing his plans. The automatic flush of her cheeks, pounding in her chest, and insuppressible smile when she thought of him. Her stupid giddiness they were together, and silly domestic dreams when they were in physically close like holding hands or sitting next to each other.

His sudden absence made all those reactions go into overdrive, in a bad way. Thinking about him was now painful and baffling.

Teruhashi kept on thinking about all the awful scenarios, like he got hit by a car, abducted and held for ransom, or he got some sort of incurable illness and died. In all her imagination, she thought of all the statistically improbable disaster befalling the magenta-pink haired friend of hers, something and anything that would forever keep him out of reach and break her heart. She thought of death bed confessions where they profess love to each other like some cheesy-not-even-b-rated-romance-movie and she almost cried herself to sleep.

Good thing she got Chiyo-chan, one of her few girlfriends who knew that Teruhashi liked Saiki, to talk to.

Chiyo-chan was a great sounding board and told Teruhashi that maybe Saiki won the lottery or something and was buying a castle in France. That Saiki was busy learning how to pilot an airplane so he could skywrite his eternal "Offu" for her before summer break so they can be a couple and go out on a bunch of dates without school hanging over their heads. Or that Saiki was actually a European prince and is a nobleman of "insert name of fancy-sounding French pastry" and was off to look at his estate. Chiyo got Teruhashi laughing so hard at the thought of "Saiki Kusuo, Count le Macaron" or "Saiki Kusuo, Duke de Croissant."

Which lead to the next thought.

-"Saiki Kokomi, Countess le Macaron" or "Saiki Kokomi, Duchess de Croissant." Those sound pretty nice. Gah! Why do I even like the sound of that?!-

Teruhashi was shaken out of her reverie by a change in the teacher's tone and the class's anticipatory mood.

There was someone outside the classroom, being led by the vice principal.

"Alright class, we're getting a transfer from Class 3," said the teacher. "Come on in, Shinoda-kun."

Teruhashi was suddenly alert. Why were they getting someone to transfer in? Class 1 was full.

It was Shinoda Takeru, Chiyo's three-month boyfriend from back in second year. Teruhashi recalled a few boy-complaining sessions where Chiyo expounded on all the demerits of Shinoda.

If Chiyo didn't like this boy, then Teruhashi didn't like him either.

Team Girl had to stick together.

Still, Teruhashi was Teruhashi. She smiled encouragingly at him and mentally ticked off his name from her memorized list of boys when she saw the quiet 'offu' from his lips.

She must practice and practice hard, for when Saiki came back, of course.

Saiki was going to "offu" so hard that his eyes were going to comically punch through his glasses. That would be the ultimate payback for causing her so much distress.

"My name is Shinoda Takeru. Please take care of me," said Shinoda with a beaming smile, after the vice principal dropped him off.

The response from most of the class was lackadaisical, This was just another kid from a separate class in the same year, not one of the wacky transfer students they seemed to keep on getting back during year two. With their luck, the next transfer student from outside PK Academy would be a space alien.

The perverted monk kid did seem excited though.

Toritsuka and Shinoda were a couple of the some-what popular school band, Eternal Diamond Veronica.

"You can take the empty seat next to Teruhashi," said the teacher. "Third row, three seats back, behind Nendo."

Immediately, Teruhashi was startled by such words. She was so surprised and dismayed that she had to interrupt the teacher. "Wait. This is Saiki-kun's seat. Why is Shinoda-kun taking Saiki-kun's seat."

"Oh. Saiki Kusuo? He withdrew from PK Academy," said the teacher. "As of this Monday."

Immediately, the jaws of nearly a quarter of the faces in the Class fell.

"What!?" uttered Kuboyasu. "What do you mean withdrew?"

"Huh? Pal withdrew?" asked Nendo.

"What happened to Saiki-kun?" asked Hairo, straight out. "What school is he transferring to, then?"

"I'll pay for his school fees if that's why he had to leave," said Saiko.

"Is that why the locker onigiri surprises stopped?" asked Chisato, half crying.

"But he kept on returning homework! Why would he withdraw?" asked Chiyo.

"Quiet," the teacher immediately dismissed the outrage and all the questions that came up at once. "It was a voluntary withdraw. We receive paperwork on Monday indicating that it was to be effective upon receipt. He also missed too many days in a row without a reason. We would have to expel him per school policy anyway."

"Well, he was sick," Kaido provided immediately. "He had really bad stomach flu. His mom said so."

"If the school wasn't provided with a doctor's note, then he was not sick," said the teacher. "Shinoda-kun. Welcome to Class 1. Please go sit down."

Shinoda approached his new seat with a wide grin. He could not believe his incredible luck. Teruhashi Kokomi was the most unattainable, goddess descent upon the earth, woman in the entire world and he was going to sit next to her for the remainder of the year. If he played it right, he might even get to go out with Kokomi and Chiyo at the same time. He would be the greatest playboy in school and the envy of men all over the world.

Teruhashi's blue eyes were liquidy. Oh, she must have been so glad to have him sit next to her that she was about to cry tears of joy!

The rest of the class, though, saw the downturn on the corners on Teruhashi's lips and the scrunching of her eyebrows, completely crestfallen. Genuine Angel Tears was about to fall out of her eyes. Many pairs of eyes glared daggers at Shinoda. If the class was not in session, half the class would've stood up and beaten Shinoda on the spot for almost making Teruhashi cry.

Shinoda, oblivious to the sudden change in the mood of the class, fished out a kerchief from his back pocket and offered it to Teruhashi. "Let me be the kerchief that dries your tears," he said with all the warmth and charm of a Cassanova he could muster.

Teruhashi stared at the cloth as if was a poof of dung.

The handkerchief did smell bad, like mildewy laundry that got left in the washing machine to dry.

"Um...No. Thank you," muttered Teruhashi, turning her head away from the smell. The nasty odor had smack her back to her sense. She must not let people see her disgusted reaction at this relatively good looking boy who just got assigned to sit next to her. Shinoda was fairly popular with the underclassmen. Flat out rejection of advances from someone like him would decrease her perceived perfection.

Undeterred, Shinoda unfolded the handkerchief and attempted the common romantic gesture of dabbing tears from Teruhashi's face.

Teruhashi's heart jumped when she realized what he was about to do. She needed something to protect herself, both from the smell and the invasion of her personal space. It was happening too fast to tell him no and it was not in the action of the perfect woman to swing an arm and knock that hand away, at least not in class.

Shinoda suddenly fell over on to his back. The back of his head contacting the linoleum floor with a dull 'thud.' The smelly handkerchief had flown somewhere.

"Oh, dear! Shinoda-kun, are you alright?" asked the teacher.

While Shinoda was getting his act together, Nendo, who sat in front of the desk and seat that was formerly Saiki's, said, "Hey, Look. I found a marble!"

"Be quiet, Nendo," said the teacher. "Are you alright, Shinoda? Do you need to go see the nurse?"

"I'm alright," said Shinoda as he got up. He grumped when he realized that the school idiot, Nendo, had stepped on his precious handkerchief of romance. On the way up to standing on his own two feet, he caught the gaze of Kuboyasu, the feared secret delinquent of PK Academy, who sat behind Teruhashi.

Kuboyasu's showed his teeth, and a vein popped in his head. He gave Shinoda the death glare of touch-her-and-you're-dead. Though Kuboyasu's arms were crossed, hiding his hands in his armpits, Shinoda could definitely see the small round things in his hand.

Great. Just great. Since when did the school delinquent claim Teruhashi as his woman? School rumors and official sources had indicated that Teruhashi was unattached!

Shinoda would have to get the details straight with Teruhahi's fan club, the Kokomins. They would resolve this. There was no way that the Kokomins would allow a delinquent to stake a claim on their most perfect goddess. He looked to Toritsuka, one of the higher-ranked members of the Kokomins, for support.

Except Torituska was looking past him. He wasn't sure who Toritsuka was looking at? Hairo? Who sat left of Teruhashi? Or Akechi who sat behind Hairo? Or that sexy gyaru Aiura who sat behind Akechi? All of those were the people who seemed dismayed by something, completely ignoring the glamour and mystery that is the transfer student.

"If you're alright, then sit down and pay attention," said the teacher, returning to droning on.

Shinoda sat down, ignoring the glare of daggers from pretty much everyone in the class. He thought of telling his friends back in Class 3 how he was so irresistible to Teruhashi that she almost cried at her luck of having him sitting next to her.

Teruhashi looked to Chiyo, distressed.

Chiyo gave a knowing look back.

This situation calls for a formal meeting with their school friends.

Chapter Text

The life of a third-year high school student was no cakewalk.

There was studying, studying, and even more studying. Nearly half of the third-year students at PK Academy had cram school to prepare for the all-important College Entrance Exams that were to take place next January. The results of the entrance exams would determine, partially, the fate of nearly all students, whether they have the possibility of becoming a wealthy manager at a major corporation, making 40 million yen a year, or a meager trash picker who makes less than 2 million yen a year. It was so important that private institutions like PK Academy offered extra studying sessions for students and provided deep discounts at affiliated cram schools.

Since the test was now less than six months away, additional studying sessions were held before and after regular school schedule, at a referral cram school that was closer to the activity center of the town. The location appealed to student's extracurricular activities and study at the same time. It was there that the noted group of school friends decided to hold their utmost important meeting about their friend.

So under the pretense of studying, Kaido, Kuboyasu, Hairo, Teruhashi, and Yumehara entered one of the unused study rooms of the cram school and locked the door behind them. They dumped their standard issued blue school bag on the floor and sat around a large fold-out plastic table. Their butts settled in well-used gray plastic chairs.

"I call this meeting of Finding Saiki and One Other Scheme to order," declared Yumehara with the bang of a gavel. As the unspoken organizer of their friend group activities, she already had a sheet of paper out with stated activity and boxes to be checked. She peered to the crowd of their close friends, and asked, "Err...where is Mera?"

"She's at her part-time job," said Teruhashi. "Did you leave a bento in her locker from lunchtime?"

"I did that and had done one better. I got Saiko to leave her vouchers for the Endless Meat Grill Buffett," said Yumehara, checking off a box. "So she can take her family out if she wants."

"How did you get him to do that?" asked Kuboyasu, surprised at the Saiko heir's generosity.

Yumehara gave a mysterious smile.

"She called him 'stingy,'" said Kaido plaintively. "Over and over again."

"Kaido-kun!" cried Yumeahara.

While the two not-so-dating love birds had a minor spat over revealing manipulation secrets, everyone else nodded knowingly. Insulting Saiko's wealth was the way to get the man to do pretty much anything.

"Speaking of Saiko, where is he anyway?" asked Hairo.

"Some business meeting with his family," answered Kuboyasu. "He said something about something big happening to one of Saiko Congomerate's rivals. *Whatever* Industries or whatnot. He sounded very interested and looked more smug than usual."

Yumehara and Kaido had stopped their little yelling match that ended with both of them looking embarrassed and red-faced. Kaido looked more red and flustered than Yumehara. There was something faint in the shape of lips on his cheek.

"What about Nendo?" inquired Yumehara, her composure returned.

"I've sent him to Saiki's house," said Kaido. "Out of all of us, he knew the Saikis the longest. He also knows his next-door neighbor, the Iradatsus. Saiki's mom likes him and Saiki seemed to hang around him the most. They might be more receptive to talking to him."

"Are you sure he won't get distracted?" asked Teruhashi, concerned. Nendo was definitely not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"Well, I did promise him that I'll buy him ten bowls of ramen," said Kaido with his fingers crossed. "We'll see what happens."

Yumehara nodded and checked off a box on the sheet of paper before her. She looked to Hairo next. "What have you discovered, Hairo-kun?"

Good ol' Hairo was doing some inclined push up against a desk. He smelled strangely of fuel. "PK Academy uses a lot of kerosene, nitroglycerin, propane, alcohol and pentane."

"Oh. That might explain why we practice fire drills so often," commented Yumehara. She then shook her head, focusing on the task at hand. "That has nothing to do with figuring out where Saiki went!" She had originally expected more from Hairo, but she did not let that show. Hairo did do her probably thousands of favors by now. He was just that nice of a guy. She still checked off a box for Hairo.

Yumehara turned to the other woman in the room. "Kokomi-chan, what have you figured out from the administration?"

Everyone now looked at Teruhashi. The perfect goddess of PK Academy can work her charm on anyone, the administration included.

"I've talked to Shima-sensei. She said that Saiki-kun's mother had called the school saying that there's a family health emergency the day after midterms," said Teruhashi. "I'm pretty certain it was his grandparents. They're in their late sixties so it's not unexpected. Two days later, his mom called again and indicated that Saiki-kun himself was actually sick. She called every day, saying that Saiki is sick. There's no contact after Friday. So nothing last week." Teruhashi paused. "The school received the paperwork to withdraw Saiki from school this Monday to be effective immediately."

"So no one actually saw him since midterms," clarified Yumehara.

"I saw Saiki's mom a couple of weekends ago," Kaido offered. It didn't exactly answer Yumehara's question but it was tangential. He also looked suddenly pensive. "At the grocery store. She confirmed that he was sick."

"Yeah, you've told us," said Hairo. "And it sounded pretty serious. Didn't she say that he's supposed to come back last week, though?"

"That's what she said," said Kaido. "Nendo, Kuboyasu and I went over to his house every day after school last week. On the first day, there was a limo outside the house with a bunch of people in business suits. We overheard them and they spoke a lot of English and seemed really serious. So we didn't intrude. The other days though, we rang the doorbell and no one answered. We ran into Yuuta's mom next door, and she was saying that she hasn't seen Saiki's mom or anyone coming in or out of the house recently. Nendo goes past Saiki's house on the way to school and he said that didn't see anything either."

"Do you think he might've moved?" asked Hario.

"We don't know," said Kuboyasu. "The family name plaque is still outside the wall. Moving is usually a whole-day thing and we haven't seen any moving trucks or anything."

"Well, moving doesn't make sense either," said Kaido. "If he's moving, then he would be transferring schools, not just flat out withdraw." Kaido's expression took on a grimace. " But then again, maybe he did. I called every day last week too and no one picked up. I mean, I didn't just call the house phone either, I've texted his mom too. My own mom asked me how Saiki is doing since she hadn't seen or heard from Saiki's mom either."

There was glum silence about the room, except for Kuboyasu.

"Well, guys, I got something that might help us," said Kuboyasu with that mischievous look of a punk about him. He pulled out a nondescript evergreen-colored hanger folder, and laid it on the table and flipped it open.

Inside were several vanilla folders with tabs, paper clips, binder clips, and what seemed to a boat-load of paperwork. The very first vanilla folder was opened, revealing a passport-sized photo of Saiki's usual unsmiling blank face was on the upper right corner of the paper, as well as Saiki's general information like name, address, phone number and such.

"You stole Saiki's school file," stated Kaido incredulously.

"Borrowed," Kuboyaus corrected. "I'll give it back when we're done."

Hairo, ever the class the representative, gave Kuboyasu a disapproving look. "When did you take this?"

"When you were distracting the file room clerk with moving those fuel cans," answered Kuboyasu.

In a sententious tone, Hairo responded, "Kuboyasu-kun, this is wrong."

"Well, yeah. So is Saiki withdrawing from school," reasoned Kuboyasu, a hint of challenge in his voice.

There were also disapproving looks from almost everyone. A person's school files would sometimes contain privileged information. Sometimes, information that no one would willingly share.

"Look, Saiki withdrew from school," explained Kuboyasu further. "Anyone who withdraws from school in their last year of high school usually means something big happened and they had to take drastic measures.

"Saiki is our good friend," reasoned Kuboyasu. "Desperate time calls for desperate measures. We just want to make sure he's okay and let him know that we're here for him because that's what good friends do. We'll probably be able to find something here to track him down."

Many faces looked at Kuboyasu with moist eyes. Such a declaration of friendship was powerful and moving.

Hairo, however, deliberately stood up. "You guys, I want to help, and I really do. But as the class rep, I'm obligated to report this. Kuboyasu-kun, you can really get the file clerk in deep trouble if the administration thinks that they've lost a student's school file. You could get expelled over this if the school finds out that you're responsible."

"Kineshi-" started Kuboyasu.

Hairo held up a hand. "So here is what I'm going to do. I'm going to stand outside this room and not see anything so I can't lie if a teacher starts asking me questions."

Such heroic words immediately impressed everyone in the room.

Hairo being Hairo, paid no attention to such reaction. "Just look over as quickly as you can, so we don't get anyone in trouble, especially you, Kuboyasu-kun," said Hairo. "Let me know what you find and how I can help."

With that, Hairo marched himself out of the room, leaving just Teruhashi, Yumehara, Kaido and Kuboyasu.

"Well, let's see what we can figure out," said Teruhashi. She sounded surprisingly eager. It was odd, since Teruhashi was usually the goody-goody-two shoes.

Yumehara looked at Teruhashi sympathetically. She had several late-night phone dates with Teruhashi and knew that Saiki's absence had affected the perfect beauty in a way that was more than just friends. Still, Yumehara spoke up, "Well, before we start, let's establish some ground rules first."

"What ground rules?" asked Teruhashi, disappointed that she was not going to get her hands on those files any faster.

"Well, if you haven't figured it out by now, Saiki is an extremely private person and he might take all this the wrong way," said Yumehara. "We can't ever let Saiki know that we've snooped in his school files. We're just looking to see if we can figure out what happened to him or some other way to find him."

There was general agreement to that rule.

"Nothing embarrassing or incriminating," said Kuboyasu next. "We all have pasts that we don't want people to know. We only discuss if we think it's helpful."

Another general nod all around in agreement.

"We don't photocopy to take a picture with a phone camera or anything," said Kaido last. "Anything we find of use, we talk about it or copy with hand. No digital or physical trail."

They all nodded again.

With the ground rules established, the four remaining PK Academy seniors stood up and spread out the files, being careful to mark the order in which the files were put together.

Since there were four of them, they've divvied up the files among them to quickly look through.

General information went to Kaido. Academic history went to Yumehara. Physical health history went to Kuboyasu. The miscellaneous paperwork went to Teruhashi.

There was silence for a while as the friends delve deep into files, looking for anything unusual.

Yumehara was the first to break the silence soon after she flipped through a couple of pages. "Haha. Saiki almost flunked out of fourth and fifth grade?" said Yumehara with an ironic giggle. "How do you flunk fourth and fifth grade? When Saiki is so nerdy?"

"What? No way!" said Teruhashi. She moved to look at what Yumehara was seeing. "Oh my. He did nearly flunk...but, his test scores were all full points?"

"Wait...what?" uttered Yumehara. She leaned in closer to the file. "Oh wow. You're right. How did he almost flunk? He didn't do any homework?"

"Looks like it," said Teruhashi with a frown. "But that doesn't make any sense. Saiki always did homework."

"Well, Saiki missed a lot of school during that same time," said Kuboyasu, looking over the physical health history. He was in the elementary section. "He missed more than half of the days in fourth grade, and almost all of the first term in fifth grade." Kuboyasu quickly flipped through a bunch of pink carbon copy paper. His eyes almost bugged out. "That's a LOT of doctor's notes."

Everyone looked at each other seriously. Did their friend Saiki have some sort of chronic illness?

That didn't seem possible, since Saiki was never sick.

Well, not true. Saiki had some sort of weird pollen allergy. But outside of that, Saiki was as healthy as a bucking horse.

"He was checked at a nurse's office in fourth grade because he wasn't responsive in class," said Kuboyasu. "This can't be right. Temperature readings at 95 C? Pulse at 200 beats a minute."

"It is elementary school," said Yumehara. "They usually have student helpers who do things like writing in the charts. You are talking about relying on nine, ten years olds here."

Everyone around the room nodded at that logic. That's right. It must be some stupid kid who had poor number sense.

"Well...it looks like someone named "Kuusuke" usually came to take him home from school."

Both Kaido and Teruhashi looked up from their files that they were skimming through. Where had they heard that name?

"And that's a REALLY long and weird looking emergency contact number," said Kuboyasu, flipping through to the more recent information on the health-history information. "That's not his house number, is it?"

"Let me see," said Teruhashi. Out of the group, she called the Saiki's house the most, owing to Kurumi's cooking lessons and that one time chance of guiding Saiki's grandpa back to the house. She was also a proper lady, and a proper lady made sure that the to-be-visited party was notified so everyone had enough time to get their act together for such a perfect woman as Teruhashi.

Saiki's guy friends usually dispensed with such an archaic method of communication. They just show up at his house instead, fully expecting to drag Saiki into whatever they were doing. Kaido had the phone numbers but like most, he relied on his cell phone to memorize phone numbers. Memorization of weird random personal information was a Teruhashi specialty.

Teruhashi read off the long string of numbers, "010-44-01223-55-5555?"

"Oh. That's an international number," said Kaido immediately.

"How did you know?" asked Kuboyasu.

"I used to live overseas, in America, remember?" said Kaido. "The '010' is the dial out of the country and '44' is the country code."

"I've just looked up the number on the internet," stated Teruhashi, scrolling through her phone. "It's a phone number out of Cambridge, England, to someone...." She held out the phone for everyone to see.

The result was in English, of course. And despite how English was a required course since elementary school, most people did not have a conversational understanding of it, much less the complicated rules surrounding proper nouns.

But that was not a problem for Kaido, whose English skill was one of his best subjects.

"Keith Psi," said Kaido. He made a face. "Who is that?"

Kuboyaus looked at the emergency contact information again. "Well, that kinda makes sense. It matches the name here." He showed everyone the line where the emergency contact information was.

Sure enough, everything was in English, down to the emergency contact address.

It was really all too unusual.

"That's just weird. Why is his emergency contact number be to someone in England? And not his mom and dad?" asked Teruhashi.

Kaido looked like he wanted to say something, but Kuboyasu spoke up.

"Why don't we dial the number?" suggested Kuboyasu.

"Well, we don't exactly have an emergency," said Yumehara.

"This is kind of like an emergency," said Kobuyasu. "No one has heard from Saiki in days. I mean, I'm about to file a missing person's report on Saiki."

"I get that, too, but I don't have international service on my cell," said Yumehara.

"I do," said Kaido. "I'll call."

Everyone looked at Kaido with interest.

Kaido didn't have the time to bask in the rare looks of admiration toward his direction. He dialed the number and had the presence of mind to put the phone on speaker.

All four friends sat and looked at the phone.

It took a while for the call to get through, probably an extra six seconds that felt like minutes.

The receiving ring tone was not the typical tone, and it was followed by a robotic message on repeat.

"Disconnected number," said Kaido. "That's not good."

Kaido tried again. Same result.

Everyone looked dejected and worried.

If they could not contact Saiki at his house, at his house number, or his emergency contact, how were they going to find him?

The group went back to looking through Saiki's files, determined to find something that would help them locate their friend. It wasn't long before Yumehara interrupted their focus again.

"Wait, Saiki attended Ten-Star before coming to here to PK?" declared Yumehara with a surprised look on her face.

Kaido looked up from his file. General information was that, general information and boring. "Are you serious?" He leaned over to look at what got Yumehara so excited. "Holy cow. You're not kidding."

"Ten-Star?" repeated Kuboyasu curiously. "What's Ten-Star?"

"It's the Ten-Star Academy. It's a super-elite school only for the rich and super talented kids," explained Kaido. "Like all the kids you see there are all like Hairo times ten. You get heirs of corporations, trust fund babies, pop idols, geniuses, star athletes, and kids of heads of state. And it's really hard to get into even for them because they have a really high academic and athletic requirement so you can't get in just on your family's money alone. Graduation from Ten Star is an automatic admission to any college of choice. I heard that Saiko Metori was supposed to go there and even Saiko's dad had to pull a few strings to try to get him in, before Saiko decided to come to PK Academy. Ten-Star is definitely not a place that a normal person can even get into."

On the side, Teruhashi has a confused looked on her face. "Ten-Star. Why does that sound familiar?"

"That's because we met three cute guys from there, remember? At Imu-chan's mixer," said Yumehara.

Teruhashi blinked in recognition. "Oh Yeah! Amagi Byakuya, Saionji Kanemitsu and Kongouchi Mitsuru! The models and some rich medical group's kid. We hung out a bit at OK Karaoke. It was going great but then they stood us up after going to the bathroom!"

Now it was Yumehara's turn to blink. Seriously. Teruhashi's ability to remember people's names and personal details was on a god-like level.

Teruhashi's expression quickly morphed into a dreamy look. "So Saiki should've been wearing the Ten-Star Academy's maroon and black uniform with a full necktie?"

"Wait, you guys," said Kuboyasu, "So what you're saying is that attending PK Academy is like a major step down for Saiki?"

Kaido nodded. "Like majorly. Like a fall from grace, fired publicly, getting eggs thrown on you, the whipping post, type of step down." He looked thoughtful. "How were his grades there?"

All eyes turned to Yumehara who still had the academic records folder. Her eyes almost fell out. "Straight S's.(1)"

"No way!" said Kaido. "Let me see!"

Kaido snatched the file away from Yumehara. His eyes darted up and down quickly, from his right to left. (2)

"Holy shit," Kaido cursed. "He made full score on everything. He completely aced the general and the school-specific high school entrance exam!" Kaido blinked several times. In a much quieter voice, so quiet that others didn't hear, he muttered, "But that makes no sense. He said he didn't want to compete with him 'that way.'"

"Well, that is in-line with what Akechi a couple of weeks ago," said Kuboyasu. "Didn't he say that 'Kusuo-kun always made first place?'"

"But...Saiki's been getting Bs and Cs since he's been at PK, except for the most recent midterm exam" said Yumehara. "How did he go from that," Yumehara pointed to Saiki's general grades and test scores from middle school to the first year of high school. "To this?" then Yumehara pointed to Saiki's PK Academy's academic record during second year of high school. Since it was July, and they were still in the first term of their third year, Saiki's current scores had not been entered into his files yet.

The mood in the room dropped at that and there was silence at the shocking discovery of such information.

Their ordinary, quiet, scowly, man who rounded the wackiness of their group, was secretly an academic genius.

"Well, it doesn't matter," said Kuboyasu, breaking the mood.

"How does it not matter?" asked Kaido. "Saiki's been..." he lowered his voice a little for the next word before returning to regular volume. "cheating and lying to us this entire time!"

"So what?" Kuboyasu challenged.

Kaido huffed. "Well, I can't be friends with someone who doesn't tell me the truth."

Teruhashi and Yumehara looked at each other before looking at Kaido. Did their resident Jet-Black Wing, Knight of Judgement upon Dark Reunion hear himself?

Kuboyasu made a face, taking Kaido seriously, "You think what grades Saiki gets at PK Academy is somehow purposefully directed toward lying to you?" asked Kuboyasu rhetorically. "That his grades before coming to PK Academy, at another school, somehow made him building a fort with us, getting motorcycle license with us, him allowing us to copy his homework for the cheap price of six cup of coffee jelly, any less meaningful?"

Kaido looked at Kuboyasu helplessly. "Well...if you put that way..."

"Don't get me wrong. I am a little bit mad about it, too. But a man's past is a man's past," said Kuboyasu, looking like he was telling himself that rather than Kaido. "Saiki will tell us, when he's ready. And if it's 'never' then it's 'never.' His past grades doesn't change the fact that he's our friend."

Kaido made a rueful face. He remembered wondering if his own grades mattered to his friends and coming to the conclusion that it didn't and finding relief and refuge in that. "Still, I just can't get over the mental image that he's laughing at us like we're idiots," he tried to justify.

"You really think so little of Saiki that you think that he'd do that?" asked Teruhashi softly. "When's the last time you saw him laugh? or smile? Outside of eating his sweets?"

"Well..." Kaido thought over Teruhashi's questions.

Realization overcame Kaido's face.

When had he seen Saiki smile? That wasn't associated with sweets?

Never?

"Maybe he's laughing at us in secret?" offered Kaido weakly.

Teruhashi shook her head. "Something major must have happened between him being at Ten-Star and PK," she reasoned "I mean, something must've happened to force him to come here to PK academy. It might be out of his control. We don't know and we shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"That's right," agreed Yumehara. "And what kind of friends are we that we're not happy that he got really good grades? That he got first place in the midterms. We're making assumptions of what he's thinking and doing, when we simply don't know," The girl's eyes narrowed at Kaido and her voice took on a wheedling tone. "Isn't that right Shun-kun ? Do I like you? Or do I like you? Wasn't Saiki the one who help you out with that? When we had the birthday party for Saiki back in May?"

Kaido gave a rueful smile as a deep red sink colored his face like someone had just splash paint on his face. "Chiyo-chan," (3) he said in such a squeak that it was barely audible. "Not in front of everyone."

Yumehara smirked evilly.

The spectators of Teruhashi and Kuboyasu also smirked knowingly.

As close friends, they've heard the story of how Kaido really misinterpreted Yumehara's love chocolates from their second year and how both were so mature and did a soft reset on their relationship so neither one was confused.

Once they got into their third year though, during one of their traditional 'celebrate Saiki's birthday,' events on May 13, Saiki, out of uncharacteristic frustration, spelled it out for Kaido, in front of all their friends. There were timed confetti throws, kazoo zoots, and a reveal of a written banner proclaiming 'Yumehara likes Kaido!!!' The words were written in Kanji, with the matching hiragana, a bunch of small letter translations into different languages just in case Kaido suddenly forgot his native tongue. And yes, there were sets of three exclamation points everywhere, too.

Since then, Kaido and Yumehara's relationship evolved to now in this weird place of 'not-dating' super special so-not-boyfriend-and-girlfriend-friends.

The status seemed to suit Yumehara just fine. Making Kaido's face turn red with something as simple as holding hands or a spontaneous kiss on the cheek had been very much fun for Yumehara these past couple of months.

So far, Kaido had been too overwhelmed to reject her antics. He generally treated her as one of his guy friends and it seemed to work out well. He also had not realized how he became male gossip central of PK Academy since Yumehara generally tells him everything that went on.

"Um...guys," said Kuboyasu, still looking at his health history folder. He was quickly flipping through pages of Saiki's nurse visits where all the temperature readings were impossibly high. There was a puzzling theme in all these nurse visits. "Speaking of birthday parties, why did we celebrate Saiki's birthday in May? When he's born in August?"

There was a collective "What!" from about the room.

Kaido quickly looked at his general information folder. He quickly skimmed to the part on age and birthdays and the such. "Holy shit!" cursed Kaido for the second time in half an hour. "You're right! He was born in August!"

Oddly enough, it was Teruhashi who looked the most crestfallen. "You mean, he's a Leo instead of an Tarus? I got all the astrology wrong!? I've should've been looking at a Leo to Leo match instead of a Tarus to Leo match?"

Kaido hit his forehead on the desk several times. "Gah! We've got it all wrong! We threw both his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday party on the wrong day! He let me plan his surprise party for the wrong day! Twice!?"

"Why didn't he say anything?" cried Yumehara. "He isn't even eighteen yet. So that's why he said he can't go into a pachinko parlor last month!"

Teruhashi looked glum, "I'm older than him. I mean, by like, 10 days, but I'm older than him! He let me think that he's older than me!"

"Guys, guys!" said Kuboyasu. When it seemed like no one was paying attention, he took Yumehara's gavel and banged it hard against the table. "Guys! Focus!"

The clamor died down quickly.

"Look. We don't have all day," said Kuboyasu, "We're 'borrowing' these files, which means I have to get these files back, preferably sooner rather than later. Before we get anyone in trouble. Hairo has been waiting outside for an hour already. He's probably cracked the hallway floor from all his bunny hopping."

That seemed to have gotten everyone back to their senses, but not before another plan germinated.

"Well, I'm reserving August 16 for another surprise birthday party," said Kaido with a voice that suggested that it won't be a joyful occasion with magenta pink and purple balloons, but more like a public hanging with a jeering crowd. He quickly went through his phone and placed a reminder, his eyes twitching.

"Yeah, it might be the middle of summer vacation, but we'll throw him a birthday bash that he won't forget," said Yumehara. Her voice suggested an event akin to a medieval public torture.

"It's going to be the party of a lifetime," crooned Teruhashi with a cackle in her voice, rubbing her hands like a witch over a wicked brew of a pink-haired person.

Kuboyasu only widen his eyes and sucked in a breath.

He could definitely see why Saiki didn't bother correcting their friends about the birthday thing.

Their friends really were wacky sometimes.

What would Hairo do?

Maybe make Saiki complete in a marathon?

Nah. Hairo was too good of a guy. Maybe just a 10 kilometer run.

Wait. They had mutual friends. And wasn't Saiki known for being oddly good at track? Knowing Hairo and his crazy drive for a challenge, the marathon might just turn into an ultra marathon with bleeding nipples and toenails.

"Okay. Let's get back to it. I gotta return these files before school closes tonight," said Kuboyasu, trying to hurry up the time table and not get distracted.

Seriously, they were going to be here all night if they kept this up. Kuboyasu was glad that he was the only one with enough balls to borrow *cough* steal *cough* someone's personal school files. He could not imagine how his friends would react if they knew how much of a punk he really was before coming to PK Academy.

The birthday matter did get dropped and the friend group went back to looking at Saiki's school records.

There was silence about the room again.

Outside the weird academic records and a lot of doctor's notes from fourth and fifth grade, Saiki's school records were generally unremarkable. He went from grade to grade as expected. His physical education marks were all 'pass.' Typically, showing up to a physical education class would earn the 'pass,' even if they did nothing.

Well, there was the fact that he moved a lot and transferred schools several times, but Kaido, who had the general information file that listed the address changes, didn't think that was important. Kaido himself had done several school transfers due to his dad's job so he didn't make a note of it.

"Oh my goodness!" Teruhashi gasped as she got to a specific document in her files. "Is that what happened?"

"What, Kokomi-chan?" asked Yumehara.

Teruhashi had the pile with the miscellaneous information, which had the original applications, paperwork, and documentation of things like the report from the Occult Club.

Teruhashi laid down the folder and flipped to the page of interest, being careful to preserve the page orders of loose paper. "This is Saiki's withdrawal notification. Here is the listed reason for the withdraw. 'Death in the family.'"

Yumehara gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

Teruhashi thought through everyone she knew in the Saiki family, trying to figure out who. "But this doesn't make any sense though," said Teruhashi after a little while. "Death in the Family usually means that you might be out of school for a few days, but not withdraw."

"Well, who died that could've caused Saiki to drop out? His dad?" postulated Kuboyasu. "I mean, if Saiki had to get a full-time job to support the family, that could a reason why he withdrew. My dad did that."

"That can't be it," said Kaido. "I saw both his mom and dad two weekends ago. They look fine. And it doesn't look like there's been a funeral at his house."

"It could be something sudden, like a heart attack," reasoned Kuboyasu. "Or a car accident."

"Yes. That's true. But like you've said, withdrawal from school is usually a result of something major happening," said Kaido, "Even if something happened to Saiki's parents, Saiki has an older brother who already graduated college. Saiki's older brother should've taken care of any arrangements."

Kuboyasu and Yumehara both made a confused face. "Saiki has an older brother?" they asked simultaneously.

"Yeah, about yea tall," said Kaido stand up, his arm raised above him. "Blonde. I heard that he has a really cushy job at a big company so I can't imagine Saiki dropping out due to money."

Teruhashi interrupted the next set of natural follow up questions. "Oh wait, here's a number to call and an address for the return of any Saiki's possessions at school," said Teruhashi. "That's definitely his house address but that's not his house number"

Everyone crowded at the next set of contact information.

"You guys, this is Saiki's handwriting," said Kaido, after about ten seconds of examining the one-page application. He had copied homework from Saiki enough times to know what Saiki's handwriting looks like. "But the signature (4) is different. It's Kuniharu so it's his who dad signed it and it was dated Monday."

"Could something had happened to his grandparents?" suggested Yumehara. "For 'Death In the Family?' I mean, they're old, right? Didn't they have health problems?"

"Yeah. But if that did happen, Saiki would've come back before last week. Even the bone picking ceremony would've happened over the weekend. I mean, it's grandparents. You don't drop out of school if it's grandparents," reasoned Kuboyasu. "That'd be weird, even if you're really close to them."

"The phone number registration information is not public," said Teruhashi, looking up from her phone after doing a brief sleuthing on the internet.

"Should we try the number?" asked Kuboyasu? "It wouldn't hurt."

There was a general nod around the room.

Again, Kaido was the one who tried the number.

The number rang and rang. No one picked up before going to a voicemail notification where a prerecorded message about reaching the number and that they may leave a message after the beep.

Surprisingly, Kaido did leave a message. "Moshi Moshi. This is Kaido Shun with Kuboyasu, Teruhashi, Yumehara and..." Kaido trailed off for a brief moment before continuing. "Hairo, Nendo and Mera. We're Saiki Kusuo's friends and we're trying to reach him. This number was listed as the contact number for Saiki Kusuo. Can you please call us back? If we got the right number? Please call back at XXX-XXX-XXXX. We'd really appreciate it."

Kaido hung up on the call.

Kuboyaus and Yumehara looked at Kaido, impressed. They didn't think their resident chunnibyou knew how to talk like a real adult.

There was silence about the room again.

By now they had been at this for a couple of hours and it was getting late, toward dinner time. It had been a full school day and they were getting tired and hungry. They had skipped the usual after-school snacking at a ramen or coffee shop in order to have their Saiki-Finding meeting.

"So we're at a dead end?" concluded Teruhashi, looking sad.

"Maybe not," said Kaido. He looked to his cell phone with that same pensive look from earlier. "That number was Saiki's cell number."

Again there was a collective group utterance of "What?"

Kaido looked like he had come to a decision. "When I saw his mom a couple of weekends ago, his mom said that Saiki has a cell phone and she shared his number with me. That number from the withdrawal paperwork was already saved on my phone."

"Wait, you knew about his cell number all this time?" asked Yumehara, outraged.

Kaido grimaced more than he thought possible. "Well. Yes. I just didn't think it'd help."

"We could've called him directly!" yelled Yumehara. "Kokomi-chan didn't have to put herself out there and Kuboyasu-kun didn't have to borrow *cough* steal *cough* Saiki's school files and risk getting in trouble! Hairo did't have to stand outside the hall."

"You think I haven't tried contacting him directly?" asked Kaido. He quickly scrolled through the text application. "Look. I've called him and texted him every day for the last couple of weeks." He thrust out his phone and turned it so everyone can see the history. "Saiki hasn't responded since two weekends ago. Even when I asked him to come join Aren and I at the local arcade. Or go to ramen with Nendo. Or when I just ask what he's doing. He doesn't respond. I don't even know if he read these messages or not."

"Wait," interrupted Teruhashi. "You've said he hasn't responded since two weekends ago." Her eyes widen. "Did he pick up? Did he answer? Did you talk with him? Did you see him!?"

Seeing the undisguised look of guilt, Teruhashi nearly screeched. "You did!"

Kaido scratched the back of his head in the universal look of guilt. "Well...he did meet me at Sukiya's on the edge of town..."

"What!? Why didn't you tell us?!" asked Kuboyasu.

"Because he looked really sick," said Kaido. He paused a bit, seemingly flustered but not at the same time. "Like 'he was all white and had lost weight' type of sick. He usually has some really witty, really dry comeback for everything but he barely said anything. He even moved really slow. Whatever he had really bothered him. I mean, his mom didn't want us to visit him because he wasn't well. He had to sneak out of his house. I never heard if he got into trouble for doing that. My mom took him home and she didn't tell me anything afterward.

"And it's Saiki Kusuo. You all know how weirdly private he is. He had a phone for months but didn't tell anyone about it. So I didn't think it was my place to share his number....until this all happened."

Teruhashi looked like she was ready to have a breakdown. She took in what Kaido said and automatically assumed the worst. Her lower lips begin to tremble. "So. What if...what if..."Death in the Family" is Saiki-kun himself?"

"No. NO. NO! Kokomi-chan Don't think that way," said Yumehara. "Saiki will come back. And when he's back, he'll be Baron de Eclair and you'll be Baroness de Eclair," She quickly glared at Kaido and Kuboyasu, as if to say -find, say, something, quick!-

Yumehara did not have to glare at all. Angel Tears from Teruhashi had the immediate desired effects. It was good that they were inside a building, so that the effect didn't draw an army of men trying to rescue Teruhashi.

Kaido went back to the first page of the general information, flipping through in a panic.

Kuboyasu quickly swiped the miscellaneous file from Teruhashi. After a minute he shook his head. "Um. Yeah. I think he's okay. There should've been a pile of certificates and another stack of paper if that happened. Since the school would have to pay out life insurance."

Kaido and Yumehara scrunched their faces. That was so unexpected. "How did you figure that?"

Kuboyasu's eyes darted left and right. He had that look of a delinquent again. "Um... My mom is a...um...an insurance adjuster. Yeah. That's right. She's an insurance adjuster," he offered. He was back to the diligent Kuboyasu again. "Anyways. Student life and health insurance is part of the standard fee to attend PK Academy. The school would have to pay out if that happened and there's usually a mountain-tall paper that comes with it. I don't see any of that. So you don't have to worry, Teruhashi-san. Saiki is still out there. He'll come back."

Such reasoning seemed to have calm Teruhashi down. She did sniff once.

At that moment, the door to their room started to rattle. A loud, brutish banging that sounded like a gorilla was trying to break in.

"Eh!" called out the muffled-but-still-loud voice of Nendo. "Open the door!"

"Nendo-kun!" Hairo's muffled-but-still-loud yell was crystal clear. "Wait! They're um...studying!"

"Quick! Hide the files!" whispered Kaido urgently.

Yumehara and Teruahshi looked confused. "Why?"

"We can't trust Nendo," said Kaido, quickly putting his files back together. "He's too stupid to know what we're doing, but he might still get Kuboyasu and Hairo in trouble by accident."

Kuboyasu was already in action. He quickly retrieved the files from everyone's respective areas, stuffed the files in the big hanger file, and shoved it in his school bag.

"Eh!" called Nendo again from the other side of the locked door. "I got ramen for everyone!"

The promise of food got everyone's attention. Kuboyasu quickly zipped up his bag. The door to the study room was unlocked very quickly.

The ramen came in clear plastic tubs and take-out bamboo chopsticks and plastic spoons. Once the lids came off, everyone could smell the savory, salty, and heavenly goodness of noodles. Since everyone was hungry, they helped their stomachs first.

For a brief period of time, there were sounds of slurping and sipping of noodle soup.

While they ate, they updated Hairo on some of the details, like how Saiki used to attend Ten Star, which seemed to really impress Hairo. They told him how someone had passed away in Saiki's family, but they now have Saiki's cell number and Kaido had verified that it works.

Yumehara, ever the organizer, still pressed on with their special meeting by getting a report from the one soldier who was sent out on a special mission. "Nendo-kun. What have you discovered?" she asked once she ate about half of her ramen.

"Uhhhhhhhhh," Nendo grunted, with food in his mouth, in varied gruff pitches, almost like he was trying to talk. "Uhhhhh-Uhhh-Uhhhhh. Uhhhhhhhhhhh." He was at least good enough to grunt with his mouth closed since he was in the presence of Teruhashi.

Yumehara gave Nendo one of those 'whaaa?' looks. Was that supposed to mean something?

"Wow! That's great to hear, Nendo-kun!" said Hairo. "Yuuta saw Saiki-kun going about in the house as recent as yesterday! So Saiki is okay!"

Now both Teruhashi and Yumehara looked confused. "What?"

Fortunately, Nendo had his trusty guy buddies who could translate his grunts.

"Nendo said that he went over to Saiki's house and no one responded to the doorbell," translated Kaido. Surprisingly, he finished his ramen first. "He saw Yuuta playing in the streets so he played with Yuuta for a bit and that's when Yuuta said that Saiki was spotted yesterday. It got a little late so Nendo knocked on the Iradatsu's door but then Yuuta's mom almost called the cops on him so he ran away. On his run over here, he saw a ramen store with a long line and thought that the ramen must be really good. So he waited an hour for ramen and got takeouts for all of us then came here."

Yumehara blinked at Kaido. "You got all that from a grunt?"

"What? Didn't you?" Kuboyasu peeped after he slurped in his last bite of noddle. Since he was in Teruhashi's presence, he was more polite than usual, too. "And he was very detailed. He also tried to help someone to find their pet cat during all of that."

Both Yumehara and Teruahshi looked at each other, sweatdrop formed on the back of their head. Guys really do talk in caveman grunts and groans, don't they?

Suddenly, Mera barged in. "I smell food!"

Everyone looked at her like she had grown another head, except for Nendo.

"Here your share of ramen," said Nendo, pushing a bucket-sized take out of ramen toward her. "Since Aibou isn't here to get you an onigiri, I gotta do his work for him."

"Thank you, Nendo!" cried Mera. She plopped down in a chair and practically inhaled the ramen in ten seconds. "Alright. Off to my next part-time job! Let me know how I can help you find Saiki~" Her voice trailed off.

As suddenly as she appeared, Mera, was, just as suddenly, gone, leaving several very confused-looking high school seniors in her wake.

Good thing Kuboyasu was a socially and physically aware young man. He sighed happily once he finished the ramen soup. He looked at his empty take-out container and a question came to his mind. "Umm...Nendo, where did you get the money to be so generous with ramen?" asked Kuboyasu.

"Oh, Chibi handed me this plastic card thingy earlier," said Nendo, without missing a beat, now that he finished his ramen. He pulled out the plastic thing that he was carrying loosely in his pocket. "He said to buy Yuuta some ice pops and a gift basket for the kid's mom while asking for Saiki's information. I never got the chance so I thought I can get ramen for everyone instead."

Kaido looked like he was about to faint. "That's my credit card! How did you? When did you? Arg! Never mind. How much was all this ramen?"

Nendo gave a blank look. "Err...1,000 yen." (5)

"For six people and a Mera?" yelled Kaido. "That can't be right!"

Kaido, ever the teenager who used a lot of mobile services, quickly checked his banking app. This time he did faint.

"Shun-kun!" cried Yumehara. "Are you okay?"

"Ug...kill me now," Kaido mumbled. "Before my mother does."

"It's okay, Shun-kun, we can get killed by our mothers, together," Yumehara's look turned all sparkly and misty. "Wouldn't it be romantic? Like Romeo and Juliet?"

Kaido only groaned pathetically.

"No one is killing anyone," Kuboyasu interjected. "Kaido, We'll pitch in to help pay off the credit card payment for the ramen and Yumehara-san, you'll be doing extra cram school with Kaido. Hairo will enforce it with a thousand situps if you don't go."

"No!" Hairo disagreed vehemently. "Ten thousand situps! We'll get Nendo-kun and see who can do the most situps!"

While Kaido looked a little bit relieved, Yumehara's eyes turned into heart-shapes, thinking about future time spent with Kaido. Even if she got too lazy to attend cram school, she would be forced to do so many situps and other exercises that she was sure that she would have a body that would knock the socks off Kaido. It was a win-win.

In all of this, Teruhashi watched her friend's antics with a smile. "I wish Saiki was here," she whispered wistfully to herself. "I think he might even smile at all this, and not just sit there with a blank look on his face."

Apparently, her whisper wasn't quiet enough. It was loud enough to be heard by Kuboyasu and Kaido.

"Don't you worry, Teruhashi-san," said Kaido. "We'll get Saiki back in school. By force, if we have to. And we'll make sure this Shinoda creep keeps his hands off of you. We promise."

"That's right," Kuboyasu concurred. "We gotta protect Saiki's woman while he's gone. That's what good bros do."

Oddly enough, Nendo peeped up. "We gotta make sure Aibou's chick is a-okay."

"Saiki's woman?" repeated Teruhashi curiously and a little jealously. She was certain that Saiki didn't have a special person. Maybe Aiura since the fortune teller always seemed to get Saiki to go out to cafes more often than anyone. But Saiki always seemed more wary than excited by the fortune teller's presence. Then again, it was so hard to tell, since Saiki barely emoted on his face. "Who's that?"

"Well, You, Teruhashi-san, of course," confirmed Kaido like it's common knowledge. "Although I would call you Saiki's girl. Saiki's woman just sounds so...yakuza-ish." He looked thoughtful, in his chunni fashion. "Maybe we should call you Saiki's hime (6), instead? The consort of a fellow Knight of Judgement should have a proper, dignified title."

"That's a little over the top, don't you think?" asked Kuboyasu.

"You guys, don't you think you should ask Teruhashi-san how she feels about that?" dropped Hairo. "Teruhashi-san should have a say."

"What? Saiki's queen? mistress?" proposed Kaido. "Lover?"

During the exchange, Teruhashi's face turned bright red. Her eyes were swirls of indignant confusion. Steam was positively coming off the top of her head. Her lips were doing a weird smile and gasp of dismay.

"How dare you!? I-I-I'm not...I-I-I'm not...I-I-I'm not..." Teruhashi huffed, trying to get the rest of her sentence out but she could not.

Maybe she didn't want to.

Teruhashi suddenly glared at Yumehara, looking betrayed. "Chiyo-chan. How could you have told them!? You were not supposed to tell! It was supposed to be a secret!"

"I didn't say anything," said Yumehara. "The only person who hasn't figured this out yet is Saiki."

"Wha...Wha...What?!" Teruhashi huffed again, too surprised and mortified.

This was so not how she imagined any talk of her and Saiki to go. It was supposed to be a quiet thing, with just the two of them.

Teruhashi buried her face in her hands, feeling the heat on her face, the almost painful smile on her lips that she could not banish. Their friends knew how she felt about a mutual friend of theirs. They knew!

She felt that she was going to die of embarrassment. If these weren't her close friends, she would have already run away, completely frantic, swearing to never speak, mention, the issue. She might even transfer schools, take up acting and singing and become a famous idol, move to France. Anything but being confronted in this manner!

Only Teruhashi's years-long practice, her mastery, her sheer will to being the perfect woman kept her from screaming from being discovered. No perfect woman would be so silly as to let her feelings for a mere boy reduce her into a hapless puddle.

Yumehara, that cold-hearted woman. She had the look of a diabolical, take-over-the-world villainess. "I think I know how to get Saiki back for his banner stunt of that he pulled at his not even-his-birthday birthday party. Don't you think, Kaido-kun?"

Despite being called by his surname instead of the much more intimate given name, Kaido had the same look as Yumehara. "Yes. It will be the birthday bash he won't ever forget."

Nevermind. Teruhashi did turn into a hapless puddle. She laid her upper body on the desk, muttering incoherant words, unable to regain her compsure.

Her most helpful friends ignored her.

"But first," began Yumehara. She looked around for her gavel and found Kuboyasu twirling it like it was a weapon. "We got to finish our initial plans."

Yumehara snatched the gavel from Kuboyasu and slammed the gavel on the table, getting everyone's attention.

"Alright, since everyone's full, let's start the second part of this meeting," declared Yumehara.

"There's a second part to this meeting?" asked Hairo. "I thought we figured out Saiki's thing already."

"We did. We have his cell now and we know he's still at his house. Now we just have to stalk him, work him, and convince him to come back," said Yumehara. "Meanwhile, we need to prepare for Saiki to come back. And that means we gotta make sure he can come back to Class 1 again."

This time, Yumehara whipped out a paper stand board. She pulled off the cover page to reveal the title of their next meeting. She then took out a chrome retractable pocket pointer from her school bag and extended it to its full length. With all the determination of a military general, she whipped the pointer against the board, pointing at the title of their very important next meeting.

"The meeting of 'Ways to Kick Shinoda Takeru Out of Class 1,' starts now."

Chapter Text

Kusuo fell into his bed, feeling the mental exhaustion sink into his bone, expanding to his muscles, transforming into real tiredness.

The past three weeks felt like a blur of the proverbial feeling of being raked over burning coal, while dislocating all of joints and body parts, without the benefit of cryokinesis.

The first week was simply bad and he just did not want to think about it.

Then he devoted time and effort to trying to fix his limiter problem, amongst all the inherited problems caused by his no-good older brother, starting week two.

It's now the end of week three since this whole thing that started with that indelible day-long headache turned nightmare.

And the nightmare continued.

First, Kusuo's search of the lab turned out to be fruitless for any hints of the solution to his limiter problem.

Then he had to decide what to with Psi Industries that just suffered the total loss of their Cambridge Headquarters and his older brother's leadership.

Resolving the issues with Psi Industries in itself wasn't hard, considering the lengthy contingency plan that Kuusuke had already put into place. The company could run itself for years to come if Kusuo really wanted to be hands-off, and run itself well enough.

No, he won't do that, not completely. He wanted to run it even better, to spite the Board of Directors and especially to spite a specific jerk whom he happened to be related to by the accident of birth.

Then he had to go around various places in the world, looking at the 'a lot of crap,' that was now attached to Kusuo's pseudo name that Kusuo did not even know existed.

Oh...yes. Kuusuke was that evil. Kuusuke stole his younger brother's identity and created an entire ownership structure surrounding it. When Kusuo examined the original documents that create those pseudo names, Kusuo realized that he was staring at his own signature, with the correct pronounced loops and curves in Kanji characters.

Of course. Both of them can forge any signature.

Kuusuke was cosmopolitan in his exploitations.

Objectively, this entire ownership scheme was one of Kuusuke's milder pranks since it was not a direct threat to Kusuo's life.

Arthur Reeves, the attorney who handled the estate and was retained for general law consult, kept on telling Kusuo that the entire scheme was more like a 'doing business as' type of arrangement and not exactly identity theft. It was a legitimate method of ownership, practiced by many of the rich and famous to distance their business, outer, public personas from their personal lives.

The explanation didn't make Kusuo feel any better.

Rich and famous, huh?

That was the complete opposite of not-getting-attention!

And still nothing about how Kuusuke designed, built and assembled the limiters.

Or any last parting words.

Scrap the last parting words. The more Kusuo thought about it, the greater the urge to blast the moon into space debris becomes.

The annoying gaps in Kusuo's memories were still slowly becoming would randomly surface, still in that zero-context manner. The memory that contained the sound of a drill could be either the memory of drilling a nail into a school festival prop or the memory of a drill through Kusuo's own skull.

A mild headache also accompanied the memory flashes now, which was completely unhelpful because there was a chance that the headache was a premonition of disaster.

At least he could tell the difference, most of the time.

Explosions, floods, fires, gunfire, sleepovers and hurricane days = premonition of disaster that could harm him.

Nonsensical sentimental saying, headache-inducing excruciating details, = Kuusuke was an asshole.

At least some of the memories should prove useful.

Dusty memories of working on higher-level math as a child were still there and slowly coming back. Kusuo was confident that within time, once all of Kuusuke's mind control effects faded, that he could figure out how to reconstruct a limiter within a reasonably short period of time. It would just be his first generation limiter, which didn't work as well as the third generation limiter that he currently uses. He also had no idea how long it would take for Kuusuke's mind control to fade.

At least he wouldn't have to start completely from scratch.

Kusuo did try to use the limiter from one of his clones, which turned out to be a very bad idea, indeed.

The clones were highly affected by his previous near flashover. Any damage that occurred on Kusuo, the original, would be reflected on the clones. The moment, he took their limiter from them, they immediately combusted. He was treated to a repeat, though much less dramatic, scene of the office building fire. He had multiple previews of what his future was going to be if he didn't fix the limiter problem.

At least Kusuo was smart enough to make sure the testing of the clone's limiter occurred at his training ground. The bed of glass that resulted from melted sand was interesting to look at, to say the least.

Conveniently, the limiter that he took from his clones didn't suppress his abilities at all. A few more brute force attempts confirmed that he was not going to be able to use psychic powers to recreate the limiters, unless he wanted to experiment with his current limiters and hope to god that the ability to 'create something from nothing' comes back.

And god hated him so he was not going to tempt fate.

There were 184 other possible solutions to recreate the limiters that he also considered, all of which were illegal, brute force, for a far lower probability of success.

The initial sense of urgency when Kusuo first realized that he was going to combust if his remaining limiters broke did far temper quicker than he expected.

Wasn't that the wisdom of ages? The only two certain things in life were death and taxes? So why even think about, or fight, against the inevitable?

There was a risk in everyday activities. Driving, eating, taking a shower, taking a step, and whatever other mundane activities that people did always had that inherent, most slight chance, of death. It was very much like some of Kusuo's other premonitions where something as small as a rock, could spell disaster.

Who knows. Maybe if he was careful, he might never damage the two third-generation limiters and the one first-generation limiter for the rest of his life.

Fat chance.

Kusuo laid in his bed, held his hand up to look at the germanium ring. He's been wearing it longer and longer. Not so much when he was off on his brand new 'day job,' but it was a must at home. He took it off for a brief fraction of a second.

Immediately, he was assaulted with thoughts of "Ku-kun? " and "Where are you?" and "Why is Kuniharu not here?"

Before his heart could race and his stomach turn, Kusuo quickly replaced the ring on his finger.

Mom was still crying.

Dad was absent, having decided to sleep at a hotel close to work so he didn't have to come home and face the helplessness of mom not responding to anyone trying to get her past her debilitating grief.

As much as his dad's behavior reeked of irresponsibility, Kusuo was glad for it. He was not sure if he could handle the drama of both of his parents at home, since they were fighting again and Kusuo really did not want to learn, especially by accident, why.

Plus, he would rather that dad being in a hotel than himself. Psychometry was a bitch of an ability that made sleeping in a bed other than his own unpleasant and he hated wearing gloves to sleep. He still hadn't warmed to the idea of sleeping at one of Kuusuke's former haunts in isolated areas around the world.

Kusuo checked the clock and noted that it was already 8:00 p.m.

It didn't seem like mom was going to make dinner as she did for as long as Kusuo could remember. She hadn't tried to prepare food, clean, or any of her usual domestic duties, since the day the attorneys came. She barely makes it to the bathroom for relief of human nature. Even daily self-cleaning became more of once per every two to three days.

Clairvoyance told him that at least dad took care of himself, and was busily working to keep his mind from going down a memory lane that would inevitably reduce dad to not-so-manly tears. Dad had also taken on the diet of a manga artist, which is to say that he ate an onigiri while looking over several drafts and working late into the night. It was not the best form of self-care but at least dad went through the motions of life and not stew.

Back at home, mom didn't seem like she was going to move. She had not even been outside the house to water the plants. Her neighborhood association ladies had called and texted her nonstop for which Kurumi ignored. Politeness dictated that people don't come visit unless invited.

As for Grandpa Kumagoro and Grandma Kumi, they had not called. Preoccupied with Kumagoro's recent health scare and the more than typical visitation by friends from their rural community over that health scare, they seemed to not notice how their beloved daughter had not called, visited or inquired after them after the initial couple of days.

No one had told the grandparents that they only have one grandchild left.

Kurumi had picked up the phone several times, in between the time that Kusuo told her and the lawyer posse came. She never finished dialing. She wished, against all reason, that her younger son was wrong and was simply delirious from the psychic fever. Kusuo had been sick before and his memories did become a jumbled mess. The brothers did fight a lot, like all brothers do so Kurumi chalked it up to Kusuo finally had it with all of Kuusuke's antics. There was no reason to make drama and worry the family.

After the visit that truly confirmed her oldest child's passing, she had not found the will in her grief to notify her parents.

Dad simply refused to call. Kuusuke's death and the resulting fight with his wife seemed to change Kuniharu's attitude toward his in-laws, which was to say that he completely wrote them off. Why talk to a smelly old man who had yelled, berated, insulted him as a greeting and conversation starter for the past twenty-plus years? And that was during the good times, when all was peaceful. Though Grandma Kumi was cordial and pleasant to dad, she was guilty by association.

Kusuo agreed with his father. If Kusuo had to deal with the tsundere habits of Grandpa Kumagoro right now, there were going to be repercussions. Kusuo would have to wait for a day when he felt that he had enough patience and time to interact with Grandpa, which might not be for another few months.

Throughout all of this, Grandmother Risa was quiet and hands-off. It could not be helped, since the only person who knew her was Kuniharu, and that was decades ago. She did tell Kusuo a couple of mundane sounding advice on dealing with grief and offered to help, if asked. She was a medical doctor, a mild psychic, and someone who truly understood his circumstances. She experienced a similar life event herself, much earlier in her life. So Kusuo listened without much inner commentary.

The clock ticked by to 8:30 p.m. and that sensation of hunger, most of which Kusuo had ignored for most of the day, had gotten severe enough that Kusuo needed to do something about it.

Sighing deeply, Kusuo pulled on his casual clothes, ones where he looked rather like a stereotypical shut-in who only of how to dress in track pants and hoodie sweaters. He went out the door to the local grocery store.

Only about ten minutes later, Kusuo had brought back takeouts. He placed the trays and boxes on the dining room table and transferred the foods in the takeout boxes into lacquer bowls, and little ceramic plates. He took the time to fill out glasses with water and set up the chopsticks and chopstick holders.

A return to routine was his goal.

With the dinner table set, a glass of water in hand, he went to get his mother.

Standing in front of mom's room and he politely knocked. "Mom?" he called with telepathy before opening the door.

Kusuo made sure to stare at her long enough to see to her muscles and bones. He still felt like ripping his heart out.

Mom was laying in bed, looking like she had been there for hours. Her pillow was wet with tears. There was a pile of tissues. Her hair was stuck at weird angles, matted against her skull. Her half-open eye were like deeply bruised welts on her face from weeping,

Kusuo placed a hand on her shoulder, to alert her to his presence. "Mom?"

"Ku-chan?" she whispered, her eyes unfocused, as if waking from a hazy half sleep.

"Dinner is ready," he said in her mind with as much casualness as he could.

"I'm...sorry...Ku-chan," Mom uttered with effort. "Can it...be...later? I...I..." She buried her face in her hands and curled up into a ball, her body was visibly shaking. Weak sobbing noises came from her.

Hearing those pathetic, agonizing sounds made Kusuo immediately want to go beat up the asshole who made her cry.

Except that asshole is dead.

That same asshole didn't even have a grave for Kusuo to piss on to relieve his frustration.

Instead, he pulled her into a sitting position and handed her the glass of water. "Here."

As if acting on instinct, Kurumi obeyed. The act of drinking some liquids seemed to squall her sobbing. She was no longer making those gut-wrenching choking sounds.

"Come on. Let's go eat."

Almost like a child, Kurumi obeyed her son mutely. Still, she leaned on him heavily as they make the mundane effort down the stairs. Whenever she was about to breakdown and cry again, he pushed the glass of water to her and make her take a drink.

Looks like Grandmother Risa's suggestion was working. The mind can only focus on one activity at a time. It was hard to cry and drink water at the same time.

"Where is Papa?" mom asked absently as they sat down at the dining room table.

"He's traveling for work," said Kusuo. It wasn't a lie, per se. His father did beg the editor for more accounts to manage. Unlike before, where Kuniharu insisted on a schedule that allowed for generous home hours, Kuniharu requested this time, and obtained, several accounts where the manga artist lived outside their immediate area.

The arrangement should be temporary, Kusuo hoped.

"Oh, I see," said mom dully as he picked up her chopsticks. She did not utter the traditional benediction before she began to absently pick at the pickled plum and the teriyaki chicken.

Kusuo took his customary place opposite from her and watched her. He mentally ticked off each and every bite and swallow she took. So far, whatever she ate at mealtime could only be counted on one hand. It was concerning, but an improvement over the first couple of days where she was too distraught to even eat.

Halfway into her fourth bite of rice, tears started rolling down mom's cheeks and dropped onto the rice in her rice bowl. She dropped the chopsticks in her hands, making a loud isolated clatter as the wood contacted the ceramic. She held her hand to her face and began to sob.

Kusuo got out of his chair and picked up the chopsticks. Instead of returning to his chair though, he settled down on the chair next to mom. He leaned in to hold her.

Mom automatically leaned away as she roughly wiped away the tears on her face with her sleeve. She choked, trying to quickly diminish her tears. "No. It's okay. Ku-chan. I'm okay."

"No. You're not." Kusuo held her anyway.

Mom struggled a little bit, making sure that there was at least an air gap between any areas where their naked skin could touch. Kusuo had gloves on his hands, but not on his neck and face. She could not subjugate her only remaining child to the mess that was her emotions now. "Ku-chan. No. You can't. Your pscyhomet-"

Kusuo was careful. Some of his fashion choices were based on how he could make sure that his more annoying abilities were not activated. He owned far more long sleeves than short sleeves for a reason. "That doesn't matter. You are my mother,"

Mom's breath hitches. A moment later, she began to wail. "Ku-kun is gone, Ku-chan. He's really gone. Your older brother is gone."

There was nothing to say to that.

"His phone is disconnected now," mom continued. "I...I can't even listen to his voice anymore."

Mom was right in more ways than one.

If there was one thing Kusuo learned from looking through Kuusuke's 'a lot of crap' was that Kuusuke was relentless in hiding his digital trail. In that, Kuusuke had hacked computers in an effort to erase all evidence that would draw attention to himself. Sure, Kuusuke published papers, won prestigious awards, grants and scholarships. The evidence of Kuusuke's exceptionalism could not be completely erased. Heck, on a cash basis, Kuusuke was probably the wealthiest man in the world and that had to get some attention from a banker. But in the age of easily reproduced electronic articles, records, searchable answers, Kuusuke made sure that anything that highlighted, pronounced, these achievements and superlatives were erased within days, if not within hours. The indexing of internet pages, journal publications, that traced back to Kuusuke were erased by hidden algorithms in the server farms all over the world.

One of the consequences was that there were no digital pictures of Kuusuke, or recordings of him. Kuusuke's voicemail message recorded with the phone service provider had been erased within the hour that service ceased. Added onto Kuusuke's own nebulous psychic abilities, to subtly mind control, the man could've completely wrecked the world and no one would ever know.

Kuusuke's verbal threat of holding the world hostage when the brothers had their spat a year ago was very real.

Kusuo knew because he searched through the extensive files in Kuusuke's computers and realized that with one wrong tap of a keyboard, the world would be thrown into chaos.

Frankly, Kusuo was not surprised. He imagined Kuusuke would've laughed while humanity descended into anarchy.

On second thought, probably not. Kuusuke simply did not care. The laughter would've been for effect, rather than pleasure. It was hard to know whether any of Kuusuke's outer expression was real, considering that no one knew the extent of Kuusuke's brand of psychic abilities. The only thing for comparison was the massive fire that could hurt Kusuo himself, which said nothing of exactly Kuusuke could do, outside of the fact that it's likely fairly powerful.

And honestly, Kusuo was more interested in the computer algorithms that erased Kuusuke's digital memory. Kusuo was set on making sure that practice continued for himself. His current profile was too high for his comfort.

Mom, though, wasn't thinking about any of that. "Who's going to take care you if you get sick again?" mom asked.

-What am I? Two-years old? I can take care of myself,- was what Kusuo wanted to tell her.

Mom was right though, since she was specifically referring to problems with his ESP and how only Kuusuke had ever been effective in mitigating (and exacerbating) the problems caused by it.

And technically, Kusuo still hadn't figured out how to build a limiter yet. He had depended on his brother to take care of that aspect for years.

It was an incredible oversight on Kusuo's part, even with the realization that Kuusuke might have a hand in that oversight. It was a problem that he intends to fix, as soon as he could.

Except that life had too much on the schedule for him now. Untangling Kuusuke's extensive possessions would continue to take time. Running a multi-billion dollar international conglomerate while trying to stay out of the media took more mental gymnastics than he was willing to admit. Making sure mom ate more or less regularly was a new thing that he picked up since dad was doing his best to deal with his own grief and didn't have the emotional energy to help mom.

Kusuo felt like the boulder that was getting pounded by water, trying to reduce him to nothing. So far, the water seemed to be winning.

Withdrawing from school was probably the least he could do in reducing the demands on his time and attention.

All the while, Kusuo thought about his limiter problem. He wasn't sure how long trying to figure out how to build a limiter was going to take, but he was certain that he would not go down without trying.

-"It's going to take two years!"- came the unbidden memory, oddly in his own voice, along with a sharp pain to what felt like the middle of his forehead.

"Ku-chan?"

Mom was looking at him now. She looked to be on the edge of panic.

"I'm fine," Kusuo responded to her, schooling his expression back to a blank. He didn't realize that he was holding his head, grimacing. "It''s nothing."

Such words did not seem to temper mom's fears. Kusuo did not need telepathy to know that her thoughts had turned to a dark place.

Mom began to hyperventilate.

Kusuo grabbed hold of his mother's hands and squeezed. "Mom. Look at me."

Mom refused to look, as if looking would only confirm the worst.

For once, Kusuo felt that he must reinforce their current status. To get past all this useless mourning. "Ani is gone," said Kusuo, " but I'm still here."

Through teary eyes, Kurumi gazed upon her younger son. She looked upon his features, noting how her younger son was getting to that point of handsome physical maturity where he could make the ladies swoon with a look and be the enviable son that all moms wanted. Kusuo had become a gentle, caring, courteous young man with enormous potential. He would go on to attend college, get a job, probably get married, have beautiful children, come visit her every weekend, show her love in that quiet-Kusuo way. Such thoughts of such a future for Kusuo and for their family used to make her heart swell with happiness.

But, now, all she could really think about right now was Kuusuke and memories of him. She started to see how little Kuusuke was around when he was little, how deeply her heart ached then, but she never seemed to be impacted by that absence until now.

Then she began to fear for Kusuo. She thought about how, now, Kusuo would be all alone, with no one to help him with his powers. And if something were to happen to her and Kuniharu, Kusuo would have no sibling to automatically keep him company, no capable older brother to watch out for him.

There was also something deeper still. It was akin to the shattering of glass. Like how some tempered glass would shatter into thousands of shards internally but still keep its shape due to a veneer support lattice, never falling into pieces.

The moment she heard those inevitable words, and saw the irrefutable proof of Kuusuke's passing, she felt that veneer peel away, and shattered pieces fall away one by one.

"Mom, Can you please eat a little more?" Kusuo asked her presently. "For me?"

Such a question shook Kurumi out of her internal turmoil.

Kurumi wiped her face with her already wetted sleeves and tried. She kept on reminding herself that her younger son rarely asked her for anything. She relished the opportunity to do something to bring a smile on that dour face, even if it seemed futile. She really did try. She took a couple more bites before her emotion had gotten the better of her.

Kusuo kept his outer demeanor calm, like he normally would as if this was any other day.

After the pretense at dinner, Kusuo helped his mother through getting herself to the bathroom so she could go through the daily self-cleaning ritual. He ran the bathwater for her and picked out an outfit for her to change into so she didn't have a chance to run back to the bedroom and just breakdown.

Once mom went through the ritual of self-cleaning, Kusuo led her to the couch in the living room. He put on a mind-numbing TV show for her, making sure that the channel was on a comedy show. Instead of Kusuo's usual practice of standing a good distance away, scowling like a looming black cloud, He sat down next to her and watched the TV show with her.

She seemed almost normal, initially. She did laugh a little at the comedy show. Made her usual comments of the obvious like "this is funny." or "I can't believe he said that."

Eventually, though, even when the laugh track clearly indicated that whatever the skit was hilarious, the tear that rolled down her cheek was not from laughter. She wasn't listening anymore.

A little more time later, her eyelids became heavy. There seemed to be a quiet lullaby playing somewhere. Maybe it was something on the TV but she wasn't sure. She laid down on the couch, finding a convenient throw pillow for her head. A blanket covered her at some point, but she was already asleep.

"Good night, mom," Kusuo said to her. "I hope you're better tomorrow."

Chapter Text

The first thing that should've warned Toritsuka that something stupidly major happened was the fact that Saiki missed two school days in a row.

At the time, Toritsuka had thought that Saiki had decided to up the normal game by doing the normal thing of getting sick and staying home.

The coincidental increase in accidents around school didn't bother Toritsuka all that much. He saw dead people, for god sakes. He had accepted the fact that something was going to pick people off eventually and he should act like a sane person and run the other direction. PK Academy was going through the normal set of bad luck that should have happened to people and turn some of them into ghosts. Saiki was the meddlesome psychic who improved the fortunes of many, no matter how Saiki preached "don't help people carelessly."

Of course, Aiura, the lovestruck self-declared soulmate of Saiki forced Toritsuka to do something about the bad luck, which was to prevent what should have been natural near brush with deaths. Seriously, Saiki can really infect people with his goodness. Toritsuka, being a person who fell into the mold when badgered, did as he was told.

And because he did do, in general, what he was told, albeit poorly, he confessed to Aiura the oddest encounter he ever had with a complete stranger who turned out to the Saiki's older brother.

Toritsuka recalled the older brother well as well as the realization of how different Saiki-san truly was compared to other psychics like Aiura and Toritsuka himself. It was then he understood why Saiki so desperately admired a perfectly normal person like Satou Hiroshi; why Saiki always looked like a smile might permanently make him crack. Saiki needed to look no further than his own older brother, a grinning mad scientist, to know what indulging in their abilities would eventually result.

On that same day, Aiura did figure something out that she didn't seem willing to share. She mysteriously declared that they won't be seeing Saiki any time soon.

Toritsuka never badgered Aiura about what she meant. If it was something important or catastrophic, then a ghost would tell him.

Still, the whole "the boss is missing" thing was disturbing enough that the PK Academy Pscyhickers thought they should at least investigate.

Since they both had side jobs, Aiura with her fortune telling job and Toritsuka with his mandatory temple duties, they did not immediately go visit Saiki at his house. Akechi was saddled with the responsibility of checking in on their boss.

Akechi, the sneaky detective who probably has undiagnosed attention deficit disorder, tailed Saiki's normal friends instead.

Akechi discovered that some sort of important, heads-of-state-looking people had come to the house one day and seemed to have been there for an entire day soon after the mutual bemoaning of Saiki's mysterious absence from school. After that, no one was seen coming in or out of the house. The curtains of the house had been drawn and remained that way. Ringing doorbell had gone unanswered, even after Akechi rang the bell for an hour. The outside plants seemed to have been neglected. Phone calls went unanswered.

Akechi did not seem to be too worried, though, explaining that the Saiki family had done this before. Kusuo was there one day at school then transferred the next. Akechi, in his investigation of Kusuo-kun, said that this had happened several times before too, before any of them knew Kusuo. He reminded everyone that Kusuo was a psychic, a powerful one at that and there was nothing that Kusuo couldn't do well, except for horse betting.

So when their classroom teacher declared that Saiki had withdrawn from school, Akechi didn't even blink.

Aiura, though, seemed concerned.

She wasn't saying something, that much was certain.

In hindsight, that should have been the second warning that something major had happened and the PK Academy Psychikers should be on high alert.

At the time, Toritsuka, like Akechi, wasn't so concerned either. He had seen Saiki in his natural element. In all honesty, it's odd that Saiki even bothered with the charade of school. The reward of school did not seem to be worth the effort. That nebulous goal of "attending college" so to "get a good job" didn't seem like something Saiki would be worried about.

But during that public announcement at school was when Toritsuka had realized something had happened.

There were fewer ghosts in town.

Normally, if Toritsuka really looked, there would be at least a dozen of ghosts in a room. And in a classroom, full of students, most of those ghosts would be guardian spirits.

Some would be upside down. Some would be mooning people. Some would look out the window. Most would just mill around like a bunch of people on vacation, admiring ordinary everyday objects like tables and desks.

This morning was the real indication that something had happened.

As he laid in bed, worked off the usual sexual frustration of a young man, he realized that it was eerily quiet in his room, and that there seemed to be an unknown oppression about him, as if the atmospheric pressure had doubled. He took a moment to make a ring with this thumb and pointing finger, a technique to enhance psychic sights, and peeked through the ring.

Not a single ghost.

But something at the foot of his bed was glowing though.

"Reita!" cried Kasunao, the almost 70-year old priest who was Toritsuka's direct guardian at this temple, from the other side of Toritsuka's locked bedroom door.

Toritsuka was startled out of a very important plot point. "Coming~" he responded.

The young monk quickly slid his porn magazine underneath his pillow and cleared the raunchy info from his phone. He quickly wiped off the sticky white stuff on his stomach with a tissue, threw that in the trash and balled up some paper to place on top of it.

"REITA!" Father Kasunao yelled again, sounding like a vein on his forehead just popped. "Open the door."

"I'm coming! Hold your horses," cried Toritsuka again.

Toritsuka pulled on his daily blue samue and pulled at the sleeves to flatten some of the more obvious wrinkles. He checked himself in the mirror to make sure his crotch wasn't being embarrassing. He ran to the door and opened it.

Head Priest Kasunao was almost seventy. He was shaved bald, with bushy eyebrows and wore a full Buddhist monk habit. Currently, several veins on Head Priest Kasunao's forehead had popped. The nose hairs in the old man's nostrils seemed longer as a huff of steam came out like an enraged bull, ready to charge.

Next to Head Priest Kasunao was Aiura.

Trusty Aiura was in one of her gyaru outfits, which was to say that she was showing a lot of skin.

Toritsuka understood why Head Priest Kasunao was ready to kick the young monk's ass.

This was a Buddhist temple, with its philosophical mission to turn people from desire to experience freedom.

Aiura was looking like the epitome of desire. Her skimpy string strap tank top and tight mini skirt left little to the imagination. The faux leopard skin boots and the unzipped fur-trimmed leather jacket seemed to only accentuate her womanly assets. She had the courtesy to look somewhat reserved, but came off flirtatious instead.

"She said she's a classmate of yours, Reita," said High Priest Kasunao.

Toritsuka nodded.

"She says that she's here to do a group assignment with you," said High Priest Kasunao.

"Er...Okay," Toritsuka acknowledged.

"Is that true?" asked High Priest Kasunao, looking like he was ready to sentence the boy to a week-long absolution if he dared to lie.

Toritsuka did the usual tell of a liar, where he looked to the upper right.

Luckily, Aiura had foreseen this and pulled off the standard-issue blue school bag that she was carrying and dropped it on Toritsuka's foot.

High Priest Kasunao pursed his lips as he was treated an impromptu one-footed dance. The effort to keep his expression solemn caused his to turn red in the face and steam to seemingly come out of his ears. It only made him look even more menacing.

"Oi. Oji-chan. Lighten up. We're third years and we're studious students," said Aiura, trying to sound cute and innocent, but her tone came off like a phone sex operator.

In the end, the old man seemed to give up trying to police the young monk and the woman. They're almost adults, anyhow and it was unlike they would automatically do what he said. Heck, Reita had gotten taller than him by now. "I'm watching you, Reita," the nearly 70-year old man warned. "Don't you do any stupid with a woman in your room."

"Yes. Yes. I get it!" said Toritsuka as he stopped hopping. He's going to have problems putting his foot in his school's indoor shoes in the coming days. What did Aiura put in the bag? Bricks?

With his escort of the young lady done, High Priest Kasunao paced out of the door. He gave a perspective look at Toritsuka and the gyaru chick who looked to be enjoying the sight of Toritsuika in pain. With the door slightly ajar and only showing a pair of suspicious eyes, High Priest Kasunao quickly strung three words together right before he slammed the door shut.

"Wearacondom."

For once, Toritsuka just stared at the door, shocked into silence.

Aiura busted out laughing immediately, "As if I'd f@$! you, germ!"

Toritsuka, being male with the proper level of urge, had the nerve to say, "I do keep a supply."

Seeing how serious the young man was, Aiura blithely said. "What? To collect dust with?" Then she gave a haughty look, crossing her arm, and followed up with "Besides, I would be disappointed anyways if we do it now."

"Why?"

Aiura pointed to the wastebasket. She had one of those slanted looks to her eyes. "You've just finished yourself off."

Toritsuka glowered at her and muttered, "Damn fortune teller."

"Don't need to be a fortune teller to know that," Aiura said with a snort. "Paper on top of tissues? Can you be any more obvious? At least get a close-top trash bin."

Toritsuka clicked his tongue. He crossed his arms. "Did you seriously came here just to insult me on a Sunday morning, Tits?"

Aiura gave Toritsuka a wicked smile but didn't answer. She then took a moment to study Toritsuka's room.

For being a monk who lived in an actual temple, Toritsuka's room was very much like a normal young man's room. There was a comfortable bed, a messy desk, a book shelf, the usual TV, a decorative lamp. The floor was wood, without the usual room carpet that would usually be in a girl's room to soften the space. Posters of the Eternal Diamond Veronica and the Four Heavenly Kings were on the wall. The bed was unmade, though, and not all the trash landed in the wastebasket. There were a couple of lounge chairs that were being used as shelves for loose trinkets and school bag.

Toritsuka was somewhat of a slob,

Completely unlike Saiki's very neat room where everything was dust free, unobtrusive, and cold.

Without being invited to do so, Aiura found a lounge chair at the end of the bed where a pile consist of an ugly Buddha statue, dirty laundry and some homework books. She proceeded to shove the pile off the seat. She plopped down on the now visible seat of the lounge chair, her arms stretched to hung on the top of the lounge chair's backing, completely at home.

"Please, princess bimbo, make yourself at home," said Toritsuka sarcastically.

Toritsuka hobbled over to the newly created pile of stuff on the floor and pulled out the creepy Buddha statue. "At least try and be reverent to kishin here."

Aiura tilted her head. "Kishin?"

"A fierce deity," said Toritsuka. He carefully placed it on the desk. The statue was one of those bugged-eyed Buddha statues, standing on a lotus blossom, several arms holding various weapons. "Destroyer of roadblocks to enlightenment, so goes the Buddhist tradition. It's a literal ghost god." He clapped his hands twice at the statue, bowed, paying it respect.

"Oh..." intoned Aiura, understanding and completely disinterested. "And you see ghosts."

"Yes. I bow to a god of ghosts. Ghosts who are nice and don't randomly shove people's stuff onto the ground," said Toritsuka. He then half-heartedly muttered a few sutras at the statue, bowed again, before turning to Aiura.

"So, what brings you here, for real? I don't think you've ever visited me at temple," asked Toritsuka. "Wait, how did you know which temple in town I'm in?"

Aiura grinned a little.

Toritsuka realized how stupid the question was and how he just opened himself up for another insult. "Don't answer that."

Aiura kept on gloating. It was nice to have someone acknowledge how she completely outclassed them.

Her smile did fall as she went straight to the heart of the issue. "Well, Reita-toto, I have a problem." She picked up the blue school bag and unzipped it. She fished out a clear plastic bag. She held up the bag in front of the young man.

Through the clear bag, Toritsuka could see mostly broken glass.

"Well, don't drop your crystal balls on my foot the next time, Tits," said Toritsuka as he limped to his unmade bed and plopped down on the mess of blankets and pillows, laying on his stomach. "Why do I always end up being the punching bag?" he grumbled to himself.

"They were broken before I came here," said Aiura. "I came here because, well, you're the only other real psychic that I know who might be able to help me figure this out. I don't trust my fortune teller sisters. They're even more unreliable than you. Akechi gives me a headache, he doesn't have real psychic powers to deal with and I'd rather not resort to my womanly wiles to get him to talk straight."

Toritsuka had to ask the obvious. "Why didn't you ask Saiki-san? He's the overpowered psychic. I thought you're good at tailing him."

"Because I can't find him," said Aiura.

"Oh yeah?" asked Toritsuka distractedly. He made no effort to hide the fact that through their brief exchange that he was distracted by Aiura's breasts. There was a slight drool down the corner of his slightly agape mouth as he stared intently.

Aiura rewarded the monk's admiration with a knuckle punch to the top of the head. "My eyes are up here!"

Toritsuka yipped from having nearly bitten his tongue.

It was another minute before Toritsuka recovered from that indignity

This time, Aiura zipped up her jacket all the way up and crossed her arms.

Toritsuka learned. He sat cross-legged on his bed instead, out of reach of Aiura's fist and his crotch well protected by a pillow that he was hugging. He grabbed at his toes, massaging them and working off the swelling from the earlier insult. "You were saying?" asked Toritsuka, all the usual distractions finally covered up.

"As I was saying. I can't find him," said Aiura, now sitting back down again.

Toritsuka looked confused. "How come?"

"It'd be faster if I showed you."

At that, Aiura pulled the blue school bag and rummaged through it. She pulled out a pocket-sized crystal ball, the ones that she would normally carry around in a purse in case she needed some impromptu fortune telling. This crystal ball must've been some sort of mass-produced object since it still had a price sticker and had not been personally blinged out with hearts and other decorative stickers.

With the crystal ball held in one hand, the other hand held slightly above it, as if casting a spell, Aiura said, "Where is Saiki Kusuo?"

Immediately, cracks developed inside the crystal ball, spidering through the crystalline structure, quickly clouding the crystal ball's clarity.

Toritsuka watched, fascinated as the ball glowed and creaked, as if it was struggling through some internal force.

Sweat began to form on Aiura's brow.

POP!

Toritsuka jumped back as that ball shattered, pieces falling everywhere, all over Aiura and Toritsuka's bed, floor, and some even hit Toritsuka.

Aiura glared at the newly created gravel and glass shards on her hand. Since Toritsuka is such a slob, she did not even bother trying to make sure that the glass made it into a wastebasket. She dropped it immediately on the floor.

Toritsuka watched as gravely glass shards fell on his bedroom floor. It didn't bother him in the least.

"Err...when did your psychic powers include breaking glass?" asked Toritsuka.

"It doesn't," said Aiura. She went rummaging through the school bag again. And like one of those clown cars where a clown wearing large floppy shoes emerged from a too-small car, she pulled out another crystal ball.

Was that bag like some sort of a dimensional portal to a crystal ball factory?

"Ask a question," commanded Aiura.

"Huh?"

"Ask a question," repeated Aiura, an edge to her voice. She was about to demonstrate something important here and Toritsuka was being uncooperative.

"Um..." Torituska wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. He didn't want to waste the rare instance where Aiura actually willingly tells of his fortune, for free. He hit on a relatively good idea quickly. "Who is my soulmate?"

Aiura made a face at Toritsuka, like he just burned up a kid's safety blanket.

"What? It's a legitimate question!" Toritsuka defended. "Do you know how frustrating it is to chase chicks and get rejected nearly 100% of the time? I'm ready to find my soulmate, get the chase over with and the good times rolling."

"Well, you might end up with a soulmate like Kusuo," said Aiura plaintively.

Toritsuka leered at her. "Well, it's not my fault your soulmate always acts like he has a stick up his ass."

Aiura threw an errant geta at Toritsuka's head. "Quit saying shit about Kusuo behind his back...Even if it's true."

Toritsuka easily dodged the wooden shoe. "Well, You and I know that he has a shitty personality and it's not like he doesn't know our opinions about him. It's all part of what makes Saiki-san, Saiki-san. He doesn't care about that."

Toritsuka sat up straighter again. His voice took whining tone. "So come on. Tell me. Who is my soulmate?" His eyes were turning into heart shapes. "It'd better be someone hot like Teruhashi or even that Rifua chick from second year. I'll even take the idol Hashimoto Kanna."

"Gawd. You're the worst." Aiura remarked. "Fine. Anyways. This is what happens when I do a normal fortune telling."

Mirroring her earlier position, she held a hand over the new pocket-sized crystal ball. "Who is Toritsuka Reita's soulmate?" she asked.

This time, the crystal ball's glow was muted, almost like a tiny little soul flickered inside.

Toritsuka stared intently, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth again, hoping that maybe he got to see the flicker of an image.

Aiura looked intently too, her eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly, she slammed the crystal ball into the ground, causing a second bone-chattering shatter.

Toritsuka jumped back on his bed, hitting a wall. "What gives, TitsMcGee!? Do you normally break your crystal ball at all your fortune telling?"

Aiura was not listening. She looked at the shards of the now shattered crystal ball, a hand clutched at her heart like she just had run a marathon. Her hazel eyes traveled to Toritsuka. "I....I....I...can't believe it!"

Toritsuka jumped back on his bed. He watched Aiura's reaction and quickly came to some possible conclusions. "It's a guy isn't it?" he guessed.

Aiura looked like she nodded, but didn't say a word. She hugged herself, her eyes still looking after the now shattered crystal ball, looking like she was about to throw up.

Seeing Aiura's exasperation, Toritsuka assumed the worst. "Aww...fuck. It is someone like Takahashi, isn't it? That slimy green-haired clown kid. Thank god, he got moved to Class 4." Torituska pulled at his hair in frustration. "I mean, Takahashi's first kiss was Nendo! Why do I have to get Nendo's leftovers for everything?" Toritsuka, too good at weasiling his way out of situation thought positively. "Though, Takahashi might be good at giving head with those lips..."

Aiura shakes her head. "Stop talking, penis aura! Ug. Just listening to you makes me I feel like I'm getting boogers smeared all over me," she said.

Toritsuka only shrugged. He happily chimed, "Well...that's probably because my guardian spirit is trying to feel your guardian spirit up right now. And you know that my guardian spirit is Nendo's dad, right? Takeuchi Riki. And your guardian spirit is this like ginormously fat fortune teller lady with a hole on her chin. She's ignoring him, you know, even when his hands are at you know where..."

Aiura made hurling noises.

"Um...you okay?" asked Torituska.

Aiura glared at the spirit medium. She grabbed him by the prayer beads on his neck and pulled him close for a proper vituperation. "No I'm not! I can't find Kusuo. Your soulmate freaked me out." She twisted his prayer beads and with both hands, began to pull, slowly choking him. "I came here, trying to figure out my problem, but you've just made it worse by allowing your guardian spirit to molest my guardian spirit!"

"Ah. Let go!" yelled Toritsuka. "I can't control him! He's like a really crappy stalker. Only Saiki had ever been able to make him leave."

Aiura choked him a little longer to even the score.

In the end, Toritsuka ened up half dead on his bed, his spirit trying to escape his dying body.

Without waiting for Toritsuka to recover, Aiura reached into the blue school bag again and fished out another pocket-sized crystal ball. "I'll come up with the question this time!"

Roughly, Aiura looked deep into the crystal ball. "Where is Saiki Kusuo's older brother?"

This time, the crystal ball did not glow. It was black, unmoving.

Instead, something on Toritsuka's desk rattled.

Toritsuka's eyes flickered over to the noise and his expression immediately turned to one of surprise and fright.

The creepy Buddha statue on Toritsuka's desk was glowing. The statue's golden eyes glowed. Its arms seemed to move, swinging the weapons back and forth. There seemed to be an aura of white flames.

Toritsuka blinked as his spirit medium sight showed that both of the remaining guardian spirits had stopped whatever they were doing and stared at the statue.

"....a kishin is passing.." said the two guardian spirits in the room in unison.

Aiura removed her hand from hovering over the crystal ball.

Immediately, the glow about the creepy Buddha statue stopped. Its eyes no longer glowed and arms no longer moving.

The statue definitely had shifted. There were scorch marks on the desk.

Torituska and Aiura looked at each other.

"Did you hear that, too?" asked Aiura, a sweat drop forming on her head.

Toritsuka nodded. He looked again at the guardian spirits again.

Back to milling the two guardian spirits went, as if nothing happened.

The two PK Academy Psychikers looked at each other, shadows overcame their faces at the sense of unease.

What did all this mean?

Chapter Text

Today was far better.

Kurumi found the will to make breakfast.

It wasn't her usual rich fare, with careful attention to nutrition, variety, salt balance, presentation and personal preferences. The toast was blackened and the coffee was instant.

Kurumi seemed to be in slightly improved spirits. She did not greet Kusuo with her usual high pitched cheerful voice. She sat down at the table, a cup of tea in her hand, seemingly waiting. She did not smile, looking like a shell of herself. But she wasn't crying.

It was one of the tastiest meals Kusuo had in recent memory, even if he normally would have refused the decaffeinated swill and charcoal in the shape of a shrunken slice of bread. Seeing his mother finally getting back to semi-normal was one of the few good developments in recent times.

Normally, dad would be here and mom would have chatted him up, saying various sweet nothings to each other, being the type of lovey dovey who made their children want to crawl into a corner and die.

Kusuo would give anything for his parents to be that embarrassing right now.

Maybe it was time to tell/order dad to come back home. Return to routine. Get past all this. He needed time to fix his limiter problem and he believed that it would be easier to think and be more careful with handling the delicate devices once he felt settled at home. He wouldn't even mind dad begging him for teleportation favors.

Perhaps the future was still something he should still look forward to and plan for.

"What are you doing today, Ku-chan?" Kurumi asked. "Don't you have school?"

Kusuo blinked.

She had not asked after him in a while.

And how should he answer her? That he had withdrawn from school? That he had gotten a 'day job?' That he was originally planning on visiting his tungsten mine in Namibia?

Would she freak out if he said any of those things?

Was it safe to actually remove the germanium ring?

Grandmother Risa did say that that he must, at all cost, care for himself first, then care for others. That meant protect himself, first. Psychics with strong telepathy often go insane due to the inability to distinguish their own thoughts from others, like her younger sister Miha. In her opinion, given the incredible range of Kusuo's telepathy, it was amazing that he had made it this far with his sanity intact, without a germanium ring for most of his life.

Grandmother Risa was impressed by him, to say the least.

"I don't have school, today," said Kusuo honestly to his mother.

Kurumi seemed to take that in strides. "That's good. I think you should take a break, Ku-chan," she said, with that distant look about her, like she was wasn't there. "The bags underneath your eyes have bags."

It was then that Kusuo did consider how much he had run on adrenaline for the past few weeks. So many unpleasant new experiences in such a short time, with that underlying threat to his life constantly on his mind.

He mutedly wondered if psychics can get stomach ulcers from the stress. And if he did, how would he fix that? Anti-acids?

"Is that why this is decaf?" Kusuo asked distractedly, taking a swig of the hot sewer water and trying, somewhat failing, to keep his expression neutral.

Kurumi nodded, a hesitant smile about her lips, like she was being mischievous.

"Gross."

Oddly enough, a quiet chuckled escaped from Kurumi's mouth.

Music to Kusuo's ears.

Suddenly, Kusuo felt a pair of arms about him, squeezing him tight. There was a light kiss on his cheek. The brief touch was full of inexpressible agony at the loss of Kuusuke, but also boundless love, protection and concern for Kusuo himself.

The feelings were shocking, painful yet reassuring.

Mom was still very much grieving Kuusuke's loss to the point of the mere thought of him would bring a tear to her eye. But she tried to redirect her thoughts to Kusuo, her remaining son, and how he was still here, with her.

Even if Kusuo might end up leaving them unexpectedly, like how Kuusuke left them, if the limiters ever broke. That thought was too much to bear.

Until then, though, she needed herself to be cheerful for Kusuo, make the best use of the time remaining with him, short or long.

Kurumi pulled away. She blinked and dabbed her eyes and cheeks with her sleeves. She sniffed. "I'm sorry Ku-chan. I'll do better, I promise." She forced herself to smile. "You do look like you've been punched in the eyes by a boxer. You should stay home today and rest."

Never the one to displease his mother, Kusuo nodded.

Kusuo got up and went to the stairs. In the background, he could hear the clinking of plates, cups and utensils, indicating that mom was cleaning up.

It was a sign that things were returning to normal.

Out of curiosity, he pulled the germanium ring off for a little bit, to test and see if the usual background hum of mom's thoughts had returned. The thought he heard was puzzling.

-I hope the medicine worked.-

--------------

After the breakfast, Kusuo returned to his room as he was told.

His mother was right. He should get more sleep.

It couldn't be helped, he supposed. It'd been nonstop work, dealing with Kuusuke's possessions. He dealt with the issues here at home during the day. Kuusuke's 'stuff' here in the country wasn't minor. Once 3:00 p.m. hits, it's a start fresh in Cambridge, UK. Lunchtime in UK was conveniently dinner time back home. Since he was the boss, he took an extra-long "lunch" which he took care of evening things at home like supper and checking in on his parents. Then it was back to his day job until midnight back home.

Wash, rinse and repeat.

There wasn't even time to process what had occurred.

In a way, he was grateful for it. Keeping busy prevented that sense of emptiness from taking over.

And now, it was probably catching up to him. It was still morning, but he had a small measure of fuzziness about the back of his head, like being covered by a weighted blanket.

He did take a look about his room, despite his grogginess.

The detritus of the Cambridge Office Building fire was still in his room. There were still bits of pieces of burnt carpet and ceiling tile, along with boring ol' research journals that got accidentally apported back with him weeks ago. The poor plant was sagging from lack of water. He was still missing a desk and some of his favorite books from the bookshelf.

It was then he realized that he had been busy that he had yet to clean his room. Did he really withstand this filth for the last few weeks?

No. More like even the thought of cleaning made him think of Kuusuke's passing.

Since mom was finally getting over her grief, it gave Kusuo some encouragement to also do a little more.

He wasn't going to go lay down back in bed until he cleaned this up.

A clean room should do wonders for returning to normal.

Sighing massively, since he still felt pretty groggy, Kusuo went out of the room to find a vacuum, some cleaning supplies, twine and a couple of trash bags.

With the cleaning equipment in hand, Kusuo began clean the unintentionally apported stuff from the fire. While the vacuum went about the floor via psychokinesis, sucking up the ash. He tossed the burnt pieces of carpet and ceiling tile into the trash bags. He checked the local sanitation department to make sure the materials were 'considered' burnable. He used a wetted cloth to wipe down the dust on verticle surfaces. He watered the poor office plant that was positively drooping over.

Good thing no bugs, specifically cockroaches, were found during this time.

A bunch of composition journals, each bounded by a blue cover was vicariously stacked in the corner. It was one of mom's efforts earlier, back when Kusuo had his burning episode, to keep a debris-free walking path.

Kusuo guessed a bunch of his books was exchanged for these journals. He used the twine and tied these journals together, ready for recycling. There were quite a few volumes so he still needed to make several .

On a whim, he picked up one of the dust-covered blue journals that he haven't bounded and casually flipped it open.

Kusuo frowned when he saw the handwritten complex logic notations.

The neat lettering that looked almost indistinguishable from print was definitely Kuusuke's handwriting.

There was a date on the first page.

This was written back when Kuusuke was in seventh grade. He must have been thirteen.

With a confounded expression, Kusuo, quickly flipped through the pages.

The journal was completely full of mathematical proof, diagrams, hypotheses, conjectures and experimental results. On several of the pages were sketches of Kusuo's first-generation limiter, with arrow call-outs denoting the pieces and parts. Below the sketches were listening of the material types and related real-world specifications.

Kusuo's jaws dropped a little once he realized what he was seeing.

This was what the unintentional apport had exchanged!

Kusuo's spare limiters were exchanged for items of equal value, which were Kuusuke's original, handwritten journals on the construction of the limiters.

And he almost tossed the journals out!

Kusuo quickly glanced through the oldest, roughest looking journal that he haven't bound in twine for recycling. The date indicated that it was the beginning of Kusuo's third grade, right after he transferred due to problems with his less than perfect handling of Asami's bullying.

Kusuo's eyes quickly picking up the isolated mathematical proofs that felt familiar to him. Kuusuke's notation (楠), clearly indicating that it was theory contributed by none other than Kusuo himself. Sections put together by Kuusuke were denoted as (空). Further on, there were clear references to other published scientific works and adjustments to the limiter design.

It was one of those moments where Kusuo was not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

Kuusuke did leave instructions about the limiters. From the original theory to the final assembly. And it was all here, in Kusuo's room, from the moment that Kuusuke was no longer able to help Kusuo.

Kusuo was literally only steps away from the items he needed, this entire time.

Had Kuusuke known that these would be needed? Had Kuusuke known that Kusuo would've found him? And knew that Kusuo would apport all the items home? Before the building burnt down? And made sure no digital or physical evidence was under threat of discovery by anyone else?

Kuusuke was no longer here to tell him anything. But there had to be a message within these journals. The fact that these handwritten tomes were here, when Kusuo needed them, was too much a coincidence.

Looking through, Kusuo located the oldest journal again. The edges of the paper were rough and curled from use. He opened the journal to a random page. Cold logic seemed to flow at first glance, but Kusuo knew better.

These were handwritten journals, not mass-produced books like the Weekly Shounen Jump and school textbooks. There should be psychometric memory on every single page due to the fact that Kuusuke had to spend time to jot down everything.

Removing a glove, Kusuo gently touched the page. A scene began to play before his mind's eyes.

---

Kuusuke was hunched, sitting on the futon with a book light and a lap desk, scribbling away. He looked to be ten, maybe eleven years old.

The journal was full of mathematical proofs. He had utilized the Roman and Greek alphabet as he was taught, but decided to use hiragana for some of the later notations. His right hand was getting sore from writing. It was sometime early in the morning, probably between two and three in the morning.

In the futon next to Kuusuke was Kusuo's younger self, peacefully sleeping. Upon closer inspection, the two were holding hands. A few more seconds more of inspection, it appeared to be deliberate psychometric sharing of experiences.

"Ku-kun," came a whisper from the door to the room. "Is..."

Kuusuke looked up from his notes. "Everything is alright, mom. He will be okay by morning."

"That's good," whispered Kurumi from the door. "Good night Ku-kun."

"Good night, mom," said Kuusuke.

Kuusuke looked to his little brother, who appeared about eight, nine years old. He lightly ran his hand through Kusuo's magenta-pink hair. In the dark, Kuusuke's voice rang. "Remember this. Mom has emotional extremes and needs regular reassurance. It'd be a good practice to tell her 'everything is alright.' I hope that, in the near future, Dad and I would have fixed this. But if not, she'll need your help."

Kusuo did not stir. Fast asleep

At that point, Kuusuke looked up and seemed to stare straight at Kusuo's seventeeth-year-old self. The telepathic message, in Kuusuke's lilting child's voice, from nearly a decade ago was clear.

-If these notes are needed, then you are the unwanted future. Go away.-

---

Kusuo found himself forcefully kicked out of the psychometric memory. It was so sudden that it took him a few moments to reorient himself.

He looked at the page he was on incredulously.

First of all, Kusuo never had such an experience of being forced off a psychometric memory.

Second, the psychometric memory of the journal of that time period was slightly different from Kusuo's own recollection of that time period.

The memory of them sharing a room when they were younger was the same as Kusuo's own memory. The Saiki family had a measure of financial hardship during the earlier years so the boy had shared a room.

The feelings of the memory, though, were something vastly different from what Kusuo had come to associate with Kuusuke.

In nearly all of his recollection, Kusuo had associated Kuusuke as an annoying, laughing, older brother. Kuusuke was creepy, sadomasochistic, obsessive and a complete jerk who threatened the peacefulness of Kusuo's life and pretty much everyone else's for personal aggrandizement. Kuusuke was the crazy sore loser who refused to give up after thousands of losses and was driven by the perverted possible pleasure of beating Kusuo.

The Kuusuke who left the psychometry impression on these journals was different.

The Kuusuke in the psychometry impression was just as driven, mentally deranged, and capable as Kusuo had recalled. But the happy, chuckling, self-absorbed scientist that Kusuo came to massively dislike, dared say, even hated, was not there.

Kusuo was almost overwhelmed by the protective feelings on this single page, mostly protective toward the image of his younger self.

It made no sense.

Why would an all-powerful psychic like Kusuo need protection?

And from such a weak, arrogant, selfish person like Kuusuke?

No. It should have always been the other way around. Kusuo's psychic powers were too powerful to overcome.

If that was true, then why Kusuo could not recall any one instance where he had to protect, watch over, guard even help Kuusuke? It had always been Kuusuke who was goading him into things, often with the threat of extreme discomfort.

-Kuusuke had abilities,- Kusuo reminded himself.

It was hard to know how much people's thoughts and memories that Kuusuke had screwed with. Or how much of Kusuo's own mind control actually affected Kuusuke. It never made sense, when Kusuo had the rare time to consider it, how Kuusuke could be so annoying and Kusuo never tried to change his brother through mind control, hypnosis or otherwise.

Kusuo was confounded by these conflicting facts.

Kusuo touched the same page again.

Nothing.

Was what he just saw through psychometry just a figment of his imagination?

Kusuo shook his head. No. He doubted that. If this was truly Kuusuke's doing, then the psychometry impression was real. And once an object gave up its psychometric memory, Kusuo's own psychometric impression replaced it.

There was only one chance to review the memory.

Good thing his eidetic memory should be sufficient to capture whatever background clues that were in these pages.

He must view another memory, though, to make sure that he was not just hallucinating due to being so overworked and stressed in the last few weeks.

Flipping through a few pages, he found himself looking at a table and a chart. Kuusuke's notations indicated something about the petrification of living creatures. Curiosity, Kuusuke's name was on the table.

Taking a deep breath, Kusuo touched the page.

---

"Stop. That marks one hour," said Kuusuke. He hit a stopwatch and scribbled the result in the journal. Again, he seemed to be ten, or eleven years old.

Images of Kuusuke in petrified form floated to the surface of Kuusuke's mind and he shook his head as Kusuo's child voice entered his mind.

-Aren't you at least stiff?-

"No. Put your glasses back on," said Kuusuke to Kusuo's younger self, "Mom and dad are almost home from their anniversary date."

It seemed like they were in the small living room, back in the old apartment.

Kusuo was still staring, quite intently, at Kuusuke, with naked violet eyes. He then scrunched his face and blinked, before rubbing his eyes and placing those green-shaded glasses on his face again.

-I'm glad X-ray vision doesn't work on you- thought Kusuo. -At least you're not disgusting to look at for an hour.-

"I'm not,"

-Why?-

"I'm the only guinea pig in this situation. I'd rather have a clone to be experimented on but the content of the soul matters in this case."

-Well. I don't want a clone.- There was peevishness in that thought. -There is only one niisan and that's you.-

Oddly, Kuusuke gave a look at his younger brother at that remark. He was picking up on something else. "And how many times do I have to tell you to stop being lazy? Talk."

-But it's sooo much more effort and it's sooo slow,- Kusuo whined. -You always know what I'm thinking anyway.-

"Practice now. There's always a time delay between speech and thought. Mere milliseconds can make a difference. What if something happens and I can't hear your thoughts anymore? Psychic powers cannot always be relied on and you never know if people truly hear your words."

The response was petulant but obedient."....Okay."

---

This time, Kusuo was not kicked out of the psychometric memory. The memory had ended and Kusuo felt himself gently leaving the scene like any other exercise of his psychometry.

The memory puzzled Kusuo. Did petrification and x-ray vision never worked on Kuusuke?

Thinking back, he could not recall a single episode when he petrified Kuusuke.

They did live together for ten years. Did he never once have an accident?

He definitely recalled petrifying dad before. It was how he figured out that his gaze was dangerous. Mom, he had petrified her at least a couple of times. Hell. He had even accidentally gotten their grandparents as a five-year-old. And it used to take time, minutes, when he was younger. That used to be enough time for him to react and look away, reset the petrification process.

Now that Kusuo was older, the petrifying sight was effective within milliseconds, which was really not enough time to react and was near-instantaneous. It took the third-generation limiters to prevent immediate petrification again.

This was puzzling. If petrification never worked on Kuusuke, then why did Kuusuke always acted like it did?

And if he had fistfights, games of tags with Kuusuke, then how come he never once petrified Kuusuke? And shatter him for good? He had never been so freely physical with anyone else. People were delicate and break easily. Yet, that was never a consideration when it came to Kuusuke.

Let's not get started on x-ray vision.

Or that puzzling automatic obedience to Kuusuke's commands.

The feelings on this page indicated that Kuusuke had fully expected Kusuo to do as commanded, lightly cajoled, of course. There was an underlying, unquestioned trust throughout.

Did they actually have a normal sibling relationship?

Was Kuusuke an actual big brother, in all the expected sense of the word? Who protected him?

And if that was true, then why he could not recall any of that? More importantly, feel any of that?

What had occurred between then and now that completely changed Kusuo's perception?

What did Kuusuke do?

Suddenly, Kusuo realized that he was about to toss out these journals in his cleaning efforts.

Almost frantic, Kusuo untied the twine that bounded these journals for recycling at a trash plant. He needed these more than ever. The written information within them was important, but the psychometric memories were even more critical.

Simple thoughtography to copy the entire work would not provide him with a comparable duplicate. He must protect and preserve these originals.

Kusuo grabbed a new cleaning cloth carefully wiped the journals clean from dust that came from the Cambridge Office building fire. He placed the journals on his bed as he cleaned them, being careful to make sure only slightly damp cloth touched the covers and the edges. He could use restoration on these, but he was not going to risk any shenanigans from his psychic powers that might in any way alter or damage these journals.

Once he had cleaned the journals from dust and debris, and placed them on the bed, the sense of relief and drowsiness nearly bowled him over.

That heaviness in his head had tripled too, as well as a mild ache that seemed to have formed. It seemed from something else since there were no flashes of random memory or precognitive images of the future.

Maybe his body was finally reacting to the demands of the recent times. He had been working nonstop, sort of speak, taking care of his parents, handling his older brother's extensive possessions, dealing with Psi Industries, looking and getting frustrated by his limiter problem.

He was in bed now, finding a spot among the volume of journals to lay down. Feeling the heaviness of his eyelids.

He held up one journal that he had flipped through originally. It was the oldest one in the collection, thinking.

Kuusuke was a genius. There was no doubt in Kusuo's mind that Kuusuke could recall everything that was written in these volumes at will. In looking through Kuusuke's possessions, Kusuo knew that keeping a daily log of thoughts was not part of Kuusuke's routine. Kuusuke was a master computer wiz and kept most of his academic writing and whatever nosense digitally and printed things out instead. Kuusuke kept very little paper. Nothing in the inherited posessions, phsyical and digital, had any indication of the text that were in these journals.

Combined with the psychometric memory that Kusuo just witnessed, it only meant one thing.

Kuusuke deliberately hand wrote these calculations, proofs, theories on the construction of limiters down in these journals, imprinted the psychometric memory into them, solely for Kusuo's benefit.

It was strange.

Kuusuke was supposed to have been the asshole who kept the secrets to limiters to himself, and lord the fact over Kusuo's head forever. And for all intent and purposes, Kusuo had thought that, all his life.

In reality, his older brother cared for him enough to go out of his way to actually writing everything down, in pen and paper, for years. The feeling in the couple snippets of psychometric memory within the page left Kusuo no doubt.

Even more, these tomes were here, before Kusuo realized that he needed them.

Dad was right.

Kuusuke always came through.

Kusuo dropped his arm, leaving the journal that he was holding on his chest.

He felt his heavy-lidded eyes droop and thoughts dropping off. He was physically and mentally exhausted by the events of the previous weeks. His limbs were shaking.

Kusuo exhaled.

He felt the similar parasympathic response as the day of the fire, messing with his eyes and his chest.

It wasn't painful though.

There was an odd warmth in his chest.

Kuusuke was no longer here, but Kusuo felt that he had somehow, reconciled with his older brother; that they didn't part ways hating each other.

Before the sigh of sleep covered the all-powerful psychic, Kusuo whispered the words that he thought he would never say to his older brother.

"Thank you, Niisan. "

Chapter Text

Teruhashi Makoto was in heaven.

First, his newest movie, "Demon Eye Detective Joker and the Queen," was released two weeks ago and was a proven commercial hit.

Second, he finally got a respite from his demanding filming schedule to actually be at home.

Third, his beloved sister actually said yes to visiting a temple with him!

Okay, so he had to look like some sort of pickpocket when he is out in public with her. He had to wear a cap to cover his silky indigo-colored hair. Then he had to wear a face mask to conceal his gorgeous face. The sunglasses he had were the ones with mega wide, mega thick for maximum coverage of his mesmerizing blue eyes. He also usually carry around a backpack, just in case Kokomi needed something, like a complete change of clothes that included underwear and bras.

Completely not weird.

It was perfectly normal for an older brother to make sure that his younger sibling, especially a younger sister, is well taken care of.

Kokomi, used to her brother's obsessive nature by now, succeeded in NOT rolling her eyes.

"My next project is going with Goriki Ayame," Makoto had explained to her. "I want to go say a prayer so that my heart isn't stolen by her."

Kokomi resisted verbalizing her wish of -Please do.-

"I want to visit a temple, you know, to pray for that and keeping my professionalism in place while working with her," Makoto continued explaining. " She is the highest profiled actress I have ever worked with so I need that extra boost from the divine. Since I have some free time, I thought that we should hang out a bit."

Kokomi wanted to reject him outright.

Finals were coming up and she was a third year in high school. As much as she could rely on her charm to easily breeze through life, the perfect pretty girl didn't do that, at least, pretend not to. Plus she had plans to study with Chiyo.

Who conveniently just canceled on her because Kaidou's schedule was open.

Chiyo had happily ditched out on Kokomi, as if studying with Kaidou was going to be productive. Kokomi, being a good friend, let Chiyo off the hook.

Back to Makoto.

He was asking nicely.

He had been more considerate in the recent times, not sleeping in her bed, looking into her laundry, or being an obvious peeping tom. His additional workload might have something to do with it, too, since he was usually too tired by the time that he came home to be up to much mischief.

Plus, he was her brother. As creepy and weird as he was, Makoto did respect her wish not to be whisked away by the entertainment giants. He had made sure that he stood between the entertainment executives and her, making her high school life of being an errant heart-breaker possible. He was not totally useless.

Kokomi did want to visit a temple, too, and have a word with god about a certain boy named Saiki, her demand that he come back to school, and how come god was being tardy on his favorite angel's wish?

Any god would do, really.

It would have to look like she was simply interested in her studies, and being the good, sweet sister, perfect classmate, concerned friend.

Kokomi, the perfect pretty girl, was perfect on the inside too. She was forced by circumstances to say 'yes.'

So that was how she ended up going around town with Makoto, explaining dozens of times to random strangers that:

"No. He's not a mugger."

"No. I'm not being kidnapped."

And, the most common

"No. I'm not interested in getting coffee / breakast / brunch / lunch / happy hour / dinner / supper / dessert or take out with you. I'm going to temple to pray for finals then I'm off to study."

The offu shrapnel went off left and right.

Kokomi still got it.

Makoto enjoyed the offu carnage with a wide smile underneath his facemask, looking like a proud parent.

Normally, Makoto's own jealousy would have gotten the better of him, and he would get all bent out of shape.

But Kokomi was rejecting all these suitors with all the crispness the whip crack. Makoto had initially feared that stinking four-eye nobody Saiki had softened Kokomi, that the ugly pink-haired little boy had somehow garnered Kokomi's genuine pity.

The rumors that four-eye had withdrawn from school actually brought Makoto relief.

They finally made it to the temple.

Interestingly enough, a few of her classmates were there too.

There were Rifuta and her new boyfriend, Saionji Kanemitsu. The second cutest girl at PK Academy went all fan-girl over Makoto, leaving her boyfriend to no-so-inconspicuously flirt with Kokomi.

Kokomi remembered Saionji. They had met at a mixer that Rifua arranged last year. True to Kokomi's perfect girl form, her mere presence was so enchanted the young man that he renewed his eternal devotion to her at sight.

Rifuta was far too distracted by Makoto to notice. She squealed when Makoto gave her his used face mask before he fished out a second one from the backpack.

Saionji begged and begged for Kokomi's phone number. She demurred and offered one of her white lies, which was that she doesn't have a personal cell number. She did offer her older brother's number, because 'she'll definitely get the message' if Saionji wanted to reach her.

More like Makoto would hire a hitman on Saionji.

Saionji took the number anyway, looking smug.

Next, they ran into Akechi and Toritsuka.

Toritsuka had a broom in his hands, busily sweeping the stone paths to the temple and talking to Akechi. Well, with the way Tortisuka was sweeping the path, it seemed more like he's trying to sweep Akechi out of the way.

"Kishin, Toritsuka-kun?" asked Akechi. "Are you sure what's what the guardian spirits were saying? You do say that ghosts have no recollection of their past lives and without the concept of god. So why would they care, know, say anything about Kishin, or ghost god, as you say? Aren't Kishin known as malevolent spirits? That's why they're called fierce deities. And Aiura-san says she was doing some fortune-telling at the same time. Have you ever considered the possibility that maybe her clairvoyance and your spirit medium powers clashed and caused the breaking of her crystal ball and you two hallucinating the whole thing? Wasn't it early in the morning? Right after you did the deed? Assuming that it was solo? Since I can't imagine Aiura-san doing such a thing with you. Actually, I can't imagine any person doing such a thing with you. You weren't doing some sort of auto-erotic asphyxiation, were you? that your brain didn't just come up with the whole thing from lack of oxygen."

Toritsuka barely kept a look of annoyance from his face. Anyone who was bombarded with a dozen questions like they were being bashed infomercial disclaimers would automatically be exasperated. To be honest, Akechi's casual mention of certain things was a little creepy. "Yes. I am sure it's not a hallucination or that auto-whateveritis! And that's not my problem. My problem is that my soulmate is a guy! Takahashi! How am I suppose to fix that? You're supposed to be the smart one here."

Akechi was surprisingly terse. "Take a vow of abstinence? Become a girl or start preferring guys? Be on top?"

Toritsuka's frustrated groan was so loud that several of the temple visitors look at them.

"Isn't your real problem actually be the fact that you seemed to no longer have the ability to see the dozens upon dozens of ghosts that's always around?" Akechi reminded him. "And that's what making you stressed out?"

"I can see guardian spirits just fine," said Torituska, going back to sweeping with more vigor than before. This time, very much obviously trying to sweep Akechi out of the vicinity. "That I can live with. Takahashi as my soulmate. I might not."

"But that doesn't make sense, Toritsuka-kun. You look very healthy to me. I say you can survive three to four days without eating. And why should who your soulmate is matter to you? I fail to see how knowing who your soulmate is has anything to do with if you'll live or not. Has the knowledge negatively impacted your overall health? Compare to, say yesterday?"

More strangled noises came out of Toritsuka.

The conversation confused Kokomi a little bit, though she shrugged it off, given that these two were the Germ and the Talky of PK Academy.

Toritsuka, the Germ, was the PK Academy's self-proclaimed spirit medium and headed the occult club at school. Chiyo said that strange crap happens around Toritsuka quite a lot, like things tipping over for no reason or mysterious noises. Chiyo had recounted the story of Sayaka-chan, the creepy occult club doll, that could scry for real answers when a sacrifice of blood was dripped onto the scrying chain that was attached at the mouth. The inexplicable phenomenona was what made the occult club so much more fun, according to Chiyo. Kokomi thought that sounded more like nightmare fuel than fun.

Akechi, the Talky, was a clever transfer student who asks and says uncomfortable things. Well, probably uncomfortable to other people, so as the rumor goes. He never gave Kokomi any trouble, since he always looked like he swallowed a frog whenever he was in her presence. Akechi was a semi-normal offu supplicant.

Unlike Saiki.

"Monk-san," called out Makoto to Toritsuka with more respect than Toritsuka had ever received, distracting Toritsuka from actively choking the life out of his chatty blonde friend.

Kokomi was suddenly dragged back to the present.

That was right. Makoto was still with her.

"Do you know the way to the bosatsu statue gallery?" asked Makoto.

It was then Toritsuka and Akechi noticed the Teruhashi siblings.

A brief offu shower commenced.

Seriously, the offu delays were starting to get annoying. Kokomi needed to get her complaints upstairs as soon as possible!

"The gallery is that way," said Toritsuka with a lackadaisical attitude, pointing at a path through what looked to be a manucured garden, over a pond, to a long rectangular building. From the looks of it, this was probably the most overt pickpocket he had ever met.

Toritsuka was far more attentive to Kokomi, asking her why she was here for which Kokomi obliged.

"We have a Benzaiten shrine here," offered Toritsuka helpfully. He put on his Kokominzu happi coat by now. He was required to be helpful. "It's popular with the students."

Perfect. Benzaiten, a patron of wisdom.

The bosatsu statue gallery and the Benzaiten shrine were in different directions, which gave Kokomi a chance to escape Makoto's presence for a little.

She was successful, after a mini-tearful goodbye from Mokoto of how he swears that he could not forget her in the twenty-minutes that they're apart.

Toritsuka offered to go with her, but was prevented by Akechi, who expressed an interest in seeing the bosatsu statue gallery and shamelessly dragged Toritsuka with him, following Makoto.

Kokomi had the happy respite of being alone for once.

Then she ran straight into Aiura.

Kokomi kept her expression calm and pleasant when she saw the gyaru woman. Kokomi was out in public, after all. The perfect pretty girl did not get into catfights, especially with someone who was clearly beneath her.

"Hey Terukoko," Aiura greeted listlessly as she sat down on a stone bench. Aiura looked like she was ready to go to a rave, knee length boots, a fur-trimmed jacket and her boobs ready to spill out of her too low tank top. Her posture though, was hunched over and low in spirit.

Kokomi's inner self was almost gleeful at her rival's outward misery. Kokomi remembered Aiura's insult from a few weeks ago, insinuating that Kokomi was somehow less than Saiki, the average of the average. Living a life of constant praise, Kokomi was very much stilted each time someone said something less than nice to her. She had sworn right then and there that she and the fortune teller were not going to get along and she wasn't going to interact with Aiura unless absolutely necessary.

Staring at Aiura, though, Kokomi did feel sympathetic.

Aiura had made it known to any casual observer that she, the famed school fortune teller, liked Saiki a lot. People talked about how they saw Aiura at Cafe Mami with Saiki or that one time where they were seen walking home together. Chiyo, Aiura and Kokomi's mutual friend, had confirmed Aiura's unabashed liking and adoration of Saiki.

And in that, Kokomi was jealous of Aiura.

Aiura was a young woman who did and say things that Kokomi, the perfect pretty girl, never could.

The perfect pretty girl was that reserved, unaware of her beauty, shy, smart, delicate, caring, creature waiting to be loved and treasured by another person. She was a person whom men would do anything to maintain her purity, her happiness and threw themselves at her whim. She was a persona that Kokomi worked hard on, and succeeded in maintaining.

It was a tactic that never worked on Saiki, the one person from whom Kokomi actually wanted attention.

Aiura was that confident gyaru, fully assured of her sexiness, who she was, who she liked, who she disliked. Aiura never waited for someone to guess what she wanted; she told people what she wanted. Aiura boldly and comfortably lived on the extreme exterior of her skin, and declared that Saiki was her soulmate and demanded that he returned the sentiment.

It was a declaration that Saiki always responded with his trademark deadpanned stare, a reaction that secretly pleased Kokomi.

It meant that Kokomi still had a chance.

"Oh. Aiura-san," greeted Kokomi politely. "I didn't expect to see you here. What's wrong?"

Aiura scrunched her face and held her head. "This stinkin' place is cursed. My fortune telling is being shitty. My aura sight isn't working. That Pervy Spirit Guy and Mr. Can't Shut Up aren't helping either."

Okay. That was a lot of weird concepts to digest, one that Kokomi dismissed as one of those recent school legends about the PK Academy Psychikers for which the members were rumored to Toritsuka, Aiura, and Akechi. There was something about them doing unusual stuff to prevent disasters at school. They had been getting to class late at the same time, enough time that they ended up holding buckets of water outside of class as punishment.

The rumors must have some nuggets of truth in them, since these three would no way, naturally be found at the same temple on the same day.

Aiura must have sensed Kokomi's discomfort because Aiura plastered an obviously fake smile for polite appeasement on her face. "Forget what you've heard, Terukoko," said Aiura, using the gyaru pet name for Kokomi. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pray to Benzaiten for a good test score for the first term finals," answered Kokomi.

Aiura made a face. "Aren't you like in the top 20 of our grade for midterms? And you still pray for good grades?" Aiura scratched her hair in the universal gesture of nervousness. "Shit. Chicks like me got no chance. Not that I care about grades anyways, though I probably should...since my fortune telling seem to be having problems."

Kokomi fought to keep her expression neutral. Aiura said odd things sometimes. "What are your long term plans, anyway?" asked Kokomi, trying to redirect the conversation back to something a little more normal.

"I want to open up my own fortune teller house," said Aiura. "Be its madam, you know. None of that college nonsense. What about you, Terukoko?"

Kokomi mentally went through her Rolodex of prepared safe answers and said, "I plan to attend Safe Choice University and major in Economics."

Aiura raised an eyebrow. "Why would you attend a university so ridiculously average with your grades? Shouldn't you be attending Renowned University? With your grades and club participation? And what chick studies economics? Are you trying to die of boredom?"

"Well..." Kokomi sputtered a little bit. No one had ever asked her why. Most people generally agreed with her choices, praising whatever she was saying because she was so perfect. She could not really say the real reason why she had selected that college choice. It was a spur of the moment copying of Saiki's long-term plans from back in second year. It did seem a little bit silly, now, with her whole life ahead of her. Her parents and Makoto had repeatedly told her whoever she liked in high school was unlikely to become her life-long companion, no matter how much she liked the person now.

Stupid Saiki for making her do stupid things. And now, Kokomi was stuck with it. Still...she had some time to change her selection. For now, go with what she had put down.

"I want to have a modest goal, that's all," offered Kokomi reasonably. "It seems like a perfectly normal school to go to and a perfectly normal major. Being overqualified is a thing."

Aiura saw through it all. "It's to chase after Kusuo, isn't it?"

Immediately, Kokomi's face turned red and her lips drew downward in a pert little frown.

Had she been that obvious?

First their inner circle of friends and now this floozy?

Aiura gave a wicked grin. "I see where this is going. You're trying to figure out if I'm going to be going to the same school. You're trying to check out the competition," Aiura leaned back a little on the bench, a hand resting lightly on her enviable chest.

Kokomi narrowed her eyes. She caught the implication. "You're barely competition," said Kokomi frostly.

Aiura only laughed. "Ha! So you finally admit it! I was wondering how long that was going to take."

The perfect pretty girl never stooped down to a gyaru's level. "Think whatever you want," said Kokomi. "I doubt that he's going to attend Safe Choice University anyways, now, that he's withdrawn from school."

Aiura's signature mischievous gyaru grin fell a little bit.

That was right. The certainty that they would see Kusuo regularly in class was now gone. He had been absent from school for a few weeks now. And judging by the study load of the average high schooler, there would be no way that Kusuo could catch up.

Aiura read Kokomi's ruminations as an indication of something else.

"Oh please, do go into that sissy 'oh rescue me' helpless princess routine," taunted Aiura. "It's cute, and some guys like it. But Kusuo likes confident women."

Immediately, Kokomi's expression morphed from her slightly disappointed frown to a full-on glare that managed to look threatening. "You don't determine who Kusuo likes and dislikes."

"Relax, girlfriend. I'm teasin'," said Aiura in a tone that diffused the tension in the air. "You're so freaking cute that even I think you're adorable."

Kokomi only blinked. Surprised by Aiura's blatant honesty.

"Besides, whatever tactics that we've been using ain't working," mused Aiura. "I tell him that I love him to his face repeatedly and he just sits there like a limp fish. You go the other extreme, pinning like some fairy tale princess after her prince and still get the same reaction. I'm starting to think he's of a different persuasion. But hey. He's freakin' amazing so it's going to take something pretty extraordinary to catch his eyes, no matter who they are."

There it was again. Hints that Saiki was a little more than an utterly normal boy who happened to catch Kokomi's eyes.

"What do you mean by that?"

"What?"

"Extraordinary," repeated Kokomi. "You keep on saying that he's amazing. But he's just...Saiki."

Aiura opened her mouth, obviously excited to tell Kokomi, but then shut her mouth. "Oh, he is more than amazing, but I can't tell you why, though."

"What? Why?" demanded Kokomi, not used to people withholding information from her.

"It's a secret between me and Kusuo," said Aiura with that wicked grin again. "He absolutely forbid me from telling anyone and I promised him that in exchange for saving a friend."

Kokomi's face had turned slightly pink at this point, feeling indigent. People usually offered her everything and anything she wanted. This would take more work than Kokomi was used to.

Kokomi was determined to rise up to the challenge. "What? That he's ultra smart? That he's actually very athletic and just pretending?" guessed Kokomi. It made sense, given what they've seen Saiki's school file. The fact that Saiki made third place during the sports festival with a bunch of kids who were on the track team never made much sense either.

Aiura just sat there, looking at Kokomi still with that wicked grin that neither confirmed or denied Kokomi's guesses. "Aww. You don't actually expect me to give up my advantage that easily, do you? Against a woman like you, I need to keep all my guns blazing if I'm ever going to have a chance with him. He's proven to be a pretty tough soulmate to entice."

"Fine. An exchange then," said Kokomi. She can bargain with the best of the best. "I tell you something that I know about him that you don't know. And you tell me something that I don't know about Saiki-kun."

"Please. What do you know that I don't already know?" asked Aiura. "I'm a psychic."

"He has a sister named Kuriko."

Now THAT surprised Aiura. "Whaaa? No way!"

Pressing on her advantage, Kokomi demanded, "Now you tell me something."

Aiura made an honestly disturbed expression. "Fine. According to Akechi, who went to elementary school with him, Kusuo really is 'ultra smart.' His recent ranking at midterms is more what Akechi expected."

Kokomi sniffed. "Not good enough. Everybody knows that by now."

"Well, did you know that Kusuo has an older brother?"

Who did this chick think she is? "Already knew that, too. We visited the temple together on New Year's Day. He even gave New Year Money. All 60,000 yen." Kokomi crossed her arms, looking rather haughty, happily avoiding how she and Saiki-kun's old brother totally did not get along. "I'm practically family."

Now Aiura looked mildly impressed and slightly indignant. She stood up, drawing to her full height as she was a couple of centimeters taller than Kokomi. "Well, I went clubbing with his Grandma Saiki Kumi. So there! I'm actual marriage material, with a stamp of approval from his Grandma."

"Well, I've brought his lost Grandpa back to the house when he got lost," said Kokomi, getting on her tippy toes a little bit. She was not going to lose. "So I got a stamp of approval from his Grandpa Saiki Kumagoro. Now what do you have to say?"

For a moment, Aiura was silent. Then she started laughing.

Kokomi kept up a look of pugnaciousness for a few more seconds and started laughing too.

The courtyard was filled with girlish laughter for a bit, loud enough to be heard by other temple patrons and putting them at ease.

"You know, if you tell anyone about the conversation that we just have over an average boy, I will deny it and sic my fan club on you," said Kokomi.

"I won't say a thing. Fortune teller's honor," said Aiura. She held out a hand. "May the best woman win Kusuo's heart."

Kokomi took it. "Well, consider yourself beaten." She was competitive, after all. "I am the most perfect woman."

"That you may be, but are you the best woman for Kusuo?" asked Aiura rhetorically.

"What are you trying to say?"

"He actually came to me for help before because I can do things," said Aiura. "What do you have to offer him? Outside of being a pretty thing?"

"I rank much higher academically than you," Kokomi pointed out. "I'm going to college. And as you say, I am absolutely adorable." For effect, Kokomi flipped her hair. "I'm a prize for anyone."

"Oh, give me break," Aiura said, then she muttered under her breath, "He can't even see how pretty you are."

"What is that?" demanded Kokomi, clearly not hearing the last part.

Aiura shook her head. Instead, she crossed her arms and gave one of her dazzling, confident smiles. "May the best woman win, Terukoko."

Kokomi gave the fortune teller a curt, but respectful nod. "Mikoto-chan."

Aiura only smiled wider.

With that, Aiura picked up the blue school bag that was sitting unobtrusively on the bench and hefted the strap onto her shoulder. She checked her phone for a second. "Duty calls. Later Terukoko."

Aiura went on her way, presumably on to whatever was her job or that rave that Aiura was dressed for.

Kokomi went on her way to Benzaiten's shrine.

--

The Benzaiten shine was relatively small, with a moderate-sized Benzaiten statue that came to waist height. Someone did tend to the shrine though, making sure that the path was swept clean and fresh flowers were placed. The candles and incenses were not lit though.

There was no one around, which was thankful. Despite Benziten being 'popular' with the student, most students actually go to Tenjin's shrine on the other side of town where physical charms could be purchased. The most that could be purchased at a Buddist temple were fortune slips.

Kokomi's phone buzzed, with an accompanying ringing tune that indicated that it was a text message.

It was Chiyo.

Apparently, Chiyo had just had lunch with Kaidou's mom, after the morning study session with Kaidou Shun. There was something about Sora quizzing them afterward. And now, Chiyo was urgently in need of face-to-face girl talk or Chiyo might just commit suicide by jumping out of a window.

Crap. Time to get the prayer in, maybe ditch Makoto and get out. Girlfriends needed to be there for each other.

Kokomi did take a moment to think about Aiura's words as she stood in front of the shrine, thinking about what to pray for.

Was she the best woman for Saiki-kun?

The idea to question whether she was good enough for someone never really crossed her mind. It had always been that her presence blessed whoever was in her presence.

But who blessed her with their presence?

Kokomi felt a small wistful smile grace her lips when she recalled an incident from back during second year. When Saiki-kun took her to the nurse's office because she fainted from exhaustion. It was one of the few times she abandoned the approval of her fans and chased after a mere boy. She didn't feel the usual satisfaction from such an act, but rather, a odd fluttering in her stomach and a smile that refuse to resolve itself.

Kokomi clapped her hands twice, closed her eyes and prayed. -Dear Goddess Benzaiten. I know I'm supposed to wish for energy, focus and determination to study for finals. But all I really want to wish now is that Saiki-kun is okay.-

When she opened her eyes again, she smiled.

Kokomi turned on heel to leave and find Makoto. She quickly texted Makoto, saying that she was going to the bosatsu statue gallery to look for him and that she will likely duck out early to be with a friend.

Kokomi was about five meters away from the small shrine when she heard a child's giggle, causing her to turn around.

It was a little kid with shoulder-length pale blonde hair in a simple gray yukata, geta on the feet, and squatted in front of the Benzaiten statue. The kid's back was against Kokomi.

That's...strange. It wasn't festival time yet. The monks at this temple usually wore dark blue samue or full monk robe. Most people don't wear traditional garments out unless it was a special occasion, to get into the spirit of things. Even more, this kid had to be five, six years old. Where were the parents?

The kid was touching the candle and incense sticks with a pointing finger. Kokomi noted the pale, almost sickly, white skin.

Spontaneously, the candles lit and the incense sticks began to smoke.

The kid giggled again. It had a strange echo to it.

"I'm not burning up," the kid said, holding the hands out for observation, half laughing. "This is great. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Kokomi felt a shiver go down her spine. When did the air get so cold?

The kid turned his head looked back at her for a second.

Kokomi had to blink.

A pair of golden eyes stared back at her.

She had seen that dead gaze before, and those features, complemented by the shoulder-length, displayed a curious androgyny common in children. But where had she seen that face? There seemed to be an opression about her mind the longer their gaze lock, preventing her from recalling.

And that face...red mottled skin covered the left cheek, temple and surrounding the eye. Angry blue vein almost seemed to pulse. There was an edge to the mottled skin, bright yellow, as if something was still burning away.

The kid seemed to notice her reaction and quickly pull at the blonde locks to cover the gnarly skin.

It was then that Kokomi realized that the geta on the kid's feet should have made really loud 'clacking' sounds whenever he took a step.

Kokomi never heard the kid coming.

"I'm not here Onee-san (1)," the kid said. The lips curved upwards in a disarming smile, but did not open at all. Was the kid a ventriloquist? Why did that lilting voice have hollowness to it? "I'm just a figment of your imagination."

Kokomi rubbed her eyes.

The kid was gone.

Chapter Text

Makoto ran over to the bosatsu statue gallery. In his disguise, he threw out the care for exterior perfection. No fans, no groupie, no worshippers of Mugami Toru, Makoto's idol persona, was going to witness the ungraceful running form.

It was a problem that his personal trainer was determined to correct before Makoto turned twenty. Getting the grace down was important for an idol like Makoto, who had all the indications that he would be in the entertainment industry for the foreseeable future.

For now, Makoto was going to get that prayer in.

His next co-star, Goriki Ayame, was stunning. She was a traditionally beautiful woman, with that liquid ink-black hair and perfectly featureless clear face to suit any man's fancy. She was so beautiful that even Makoto's mesmerizing glow dimmed a bit when they were first introduced. Even though she was older than him by at least a decade so nothing inappropriate should happen, Goriki had already built up power and pull in entertainment. She could be cruel and absolutely destroy him if she wanted.

In the cut-throat world of entertainment, where the best of the best is fully produced and leave some bodies behind, Makoto knew when he should exercise caution, and throw in a few prayer or two for divine intervention.

And once the planned prayer was over, Makoto could go back to his beloved sister and fend off admirers who exhibited more than the mandatory offu-worship. They still have the remainder of the afternoon to spend time together. He was sure that whoever girlfriend that Kokomi was going to visit later in the afternoon would accommodate him.

Makoto got to the bosatsu statue gallery. It must have been an off season since there were no others, just himself.

Perfect. He'll just rush through the gallery, say his prayer quick to the patron buddha at the pagoda at the end, find a priest to bless him, drawing his fortune, and go back to Kokomi.

The bosatsu statue gallery was a long building, filled on one side with six rows of bosatsu statues.

The bosatsu were people who technically have reached nirvana due to successful reincarnation and good living, but had decided to stay behind in the world to guide humans to reach nirvana. Each statue was to symbolize such belief, and that the mind can overcome the body; that a person can overcome the desires of their flesh.

The whole complex was called Desire Temple, after all.

The gallery was very dark. The overcast sky allowed a few lights to come in through clerestory paper screens. The statues were barely visible. It was dark enough that Makoto risked being identified by taking off his sunglasses.

Before Makoto entered through, he was briefly distracted by Kokomi's underclassman they had bumped into earlier, whatever-the-heck-her-name-was and the boyfriend of whatever-the-heck-her-name-was.

The two were obviously chasing each other, in that love-story manner of a boy running after a girl, saxophone romance music in the background, misty scene. There was a lot of giggling and laughing, much to the displeasure of the onlooking temple monks.

Makoto shook his head. Even he was respectful enough not to do something like that. Granted that hug with his sister Kokomi right before they've parted has that same manner of saxophone romance music and misty scene, at least in Makoto's head, but they were the Teruhashis; they were too beautiful to ruin the sanctity of a temple.

Wait. He wasn't alone at all.

There was a weird blonde little kid, wearing a gray yukata, looking to be five or six years old, walked along the edge of the wood bleachers where the statues were placed, towards Makoto. The kid pointed at the candles that were placed in pole candle holders and the small candle that was on the buddha statues' palms up right hand.

It seemed like the candles were being lit by a simple pointing of the finger.

"We can play fireworks again," the kid said happily, the lilting voice seemed to echo like they were in a cave. But wasn't the all wooden gallery structure with straw-thatched roof suppose to absorb sound? "Obaachan and Ojiichan would like fireworks. Their festivals were always so dull." He paused for a little bit. "Is it even festival time? I seemed to have lost track of time."

Makoto removed his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. That must be it. It must be the sunglasses that was making him not see things correctly.

When Makoto opened his eyes again, he almost jumped.

The gallery was now all lit up with candlelight.

That freaky kid, who was about waist tall, was now right to him.

Makoto was so surprised fell over unceremoniously onto his butt.

The kid laughed at him. "Haha! I scared you without even having to talk to you. Scardy cat."

Up close, there seemed to be some sort of mirage about the kid, like the visual deformation over hot asphalt that can be seen in the summertime. Did the kid's mouth even move?

"That's not very nice, you brat," admonished Makoto lightly. It was the duty of all citizens to make sure children were well taught to be polite. He struggled to his feet since he carried an extra pair of heavy boots in his backpack, just in case Kokomi wanted to change out her footwear. "How about a little help here?"

Without the kid even moving, Makoto felt himself suddenly yanked upright.

Did the kid even touch him?

By the time he had gathered his wits about him again, the kid was still there, looking up at him with that creepy one exposed yellow eye. Messy shoulder-length pale blond hair covered much of the face. To be honest, the kid did look very androgynous, and the kid's voice didn't help. But Makoto decided that this was a boy, judging by the plain color of the yukata and the manner it was worn.

"So um...you lost?" asked Makoto.

The two broke eye contact and the kid looked to the left and right. "I think so," said the kid.

"You think so?" echoed Makoto. "You don't know if you're lost or not?"

"I don't ever recall being lost," said the child. "I'm not sure how I got here. But now...I seemed to have forgotten something important. I kept asking these ghosts but they don't remember anything. So I made them go away. I couldn't get rid of the ones attached to people, but at least they're mostly quiet."

Talk about nonsensical discussion. Such were the minds of children. They believed in Sodaman, Baron Cola, talking hot dogs and flying purple bears. This one seemed to believe in ghosts.

"Where are your parents?" asked Makoto, his logical senses coming back to him a bit.

Lost kid. Find parents. Basic rule of life.

The kid seemed to have that far off, unfocused, resting gaze. Makoto was certain he had seen something like that before.

"Papa is at Ikkoku Yama Rural Hospital. He's looking for something," said the kid.

Makoto made a face. "Ikkoku Yama? Where the heck is that?"

The kid wasn't paying attention to Makoto. The kid still had that far-off look and his expression turned troubled. "Mama...mama is crying. Over what though?" He looked to the ground, seeming to be focusing and yet not. "She's...sad, over me? Why? I've told her not to think of me. She is never supposed to worry. I've fixed it. I know I did."

The mirage about the kid seemed to have intensified. The images of red embers seemed to emanate from the kid's form.

"I need to find mama," said the kid, clutching his head as if he had a sudden headache, finger digging into the skull as if attacking the source of the pain. "I need to go to her now."

"Woah, woah woah," intoned Makoto, his hands making a calm-down gesture. "It's okay. We'll find your mom. Everything is going to be fine. Calm down, kid." If there was one thing that Makoto wasn't good at, it was dealing with crying kids. Children are the Teruhashi's curse.

The words didn't seem to be working. Instead, the kid seemed to be extremely distressed. Makoto was close enough to see the red blossomed in the kid's pale blonde hair where the kid had dug into.

"No! It has to be now! I've been away for too long! It's going to break soon! She's...she's...going to hurt..." the kid trailed off as he held his hands in front of him.

Makoto watched an inexplicable scene before him.

A red and yellow smoldering edge of a fire peeked out the sleeves of the yukata, crawled down the arm, turning the sickly pale flesh gray and black. The areas where the smoldering edge had passed immediately began to blister and flake off like used briquette of incinerated wood, the flesh underneath glowed white, giving off a more severe mirage from what appeared to be heat.

"No...I'm...burning up. Or have I already burnt up?" said the kid, oddly calm and abstracted. The one golden eye, with the faintest taint of manic insanity, seemed to stare far past Makoto. "I sense a descendant of Mr. Deaf is here..." There was a quiet giggle. "I think I'll go break a couple of bones."

Makoto stepped back and fell on his butt again.

The kid seemed to stare past Makoto, and tilted the head, almost coyly. The smoldering edge that had so blistered the kid's arms and legs, had gone up the neck now, slowly consuming his face.

It was terrifying.

Makoto had to look away. As an actor, he had seen quite a lot of extremely realistic makeup. Specifically, in his acting role as a crime-solving detective, he personally saw, and was sometimes, pranked, with terrifying scenes so to obtain that genuine reaction for a scene.

Did he somehow walk onto a horror movie set?

When Makoto did not hear anything, he looked back again.

The kid was gone.

The bosatsu gallery was just as dark as he had seen originally.

Makoto blinked.

What the heck did he just see?

Chapter Text

Akechi Touma leisurely strolled through the stone paths of the Desire Temple, smiling, totally dragging his unwilling classmate, friend, and fellow Psychiker Toritsuka by the neck cuff of the dark blue samue.

"Holy crap man, you're a lot stronger than you look!" said Toritsuka. He flailed a bit, broom still in hand, the heels on his geta clacking loudly on the stone path, digging into the gravel. The entire scene had that look of a hulking murderer dragging a much smaller dead body. Except the murderer was a well-dress young man in a pair of khakis, a white collared short sleeve shirt and a vest.

"Oh, I work out, " said Akechi without any modesty, not slowing down his dragging of Toritsuka. Akechi's beady eyes had turned into hypnotizing swirls of quicksand, ready to entrap the next hapless victim who dared to engage him.

In this case, Toritsuka was the hapless victim.

"I used to get picked on a lot," Akechi was saying, completely ignoring how Toritsuka's body language was simply uninterested in whatever Akechi was saying. "I find that having a little strength is helpful to keep the bullies off of you. If it doesn't kill you, it'll make you stronger, as the saying goes. In that way, peeing my pants is kinda like that because no sane bully likes to pick on you if you've wet your pants, even if urine is a sterile liquid. They pick on you even less if you just had a bunch of asparagus.

"Back in elementary school, there were a few bullies that were not as deterred by it and nearly beat me to death! But Kusuo-kun saved me. I guess I was never in any real danger since Kusuo-kun was there. He could just heal me, blow the bullies away, or do one of his head things. In the end, he made it so that it seemed like I beat up those bullies. I wasn't picked on again in Elementary School."

Toritsuka was about to talk, seeing that Akechi's face had turned slightly blue.

No such luck. Akechi took a quick breath and resumed talking. "I didn't realize that Kusuo-kun saved me until recently, though. Those bullies kept on saying that I went on a rampage and destroyed the classroom. The school just thought that the school building was so old that a small earthquake would wreck the classroom. My other classmates thought the same thing as the bullies. The only thing that seemed to tie everyone's preception together was that Kusuo was in the middle. So I suspected that he was an esper. I mean, he has some serious protagonist syndrome. The looks. The mysterious air. Weird things happening around him. Nonstop transfer student. The works.

"I didn't mean to chase after him by attending PK Academy, though. That's an actual coincidence. It was what my mom thought was the best school with what she could afford along with dad's child support. Well, maybe I had a hand in it, since my mom asked me which school I want to attend and I picked three schools. PK Academy was the most balanced school for what I was going for. I never thought..."

"Oh, My Buddha! Shut up already!" Toritsuka cried, completely disregarding the normal human decency to wait for a break in the conversation. "I can't even manage an escape with you making me dizzy with everything you just said."

"But that's how I think and process ideas, Toritsuka-kun," said Akechi without remorse. "I think in my head about a bunch of things and I verbalize the most prominent thoughts. If I do that long enough, I can figure out anything. Didn't you ask me here to help you solve a puzzle?"

"And that's how you're going to figure out this kishin thing?" asked Toritsuka before he realized that he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Yep. I want to visit the bosatsu gallery for that very reason. Kishins are supposed to be bosatsus who yet crossed over to nirvana, or god of ghosts as you say. I figure that if we wander around holy places, like the bosatsu gallery, we will eventually run into some ghosts. That man with Teruhashi-san looked like one of those famous people who disguises like a hobo to avoid attention. He's not very good at it, since he's visibly glowing and his walking is so loud! You've said that ghosts like to congregate around famous people or people with extraordinary ability, right? So I thought maybe he attracts ghosts too and he's visiting the bosatsu gallery, a holy place that's got to attract kishins, right? I would've followed Teruhashi-san but she's only visiting a small shrine.

"Anyways, I think if we go to the bosatsu gallery, there should be either ghosts or kishins for you to query, even if you haven't seen any since this morning. Plus, it's good for my health to stretch out my legs, get my steps in for the day so I don't worry my parents, and increase their health insurance premiums, or whatever excuse company uses to make them pay an amount that doesn't come close to whatever benefit we're getting.

"By the way, do you know that most children, teenagers and young adults are chronically underhydrated? And that a periodic cleanse with just water for a day or so is recommended. Can you actually leave your temple duties? I was thinking that we should probably go into town..."

Toritsuka was not listening at all. He had kept on trying to break into the conversation but couldn't talk over Akechi's rapid-fire changing of topics. Toritsuka tuned Akechi out for two seconds as he fished out a phone and quickly texted Aiura.

-PLEASE SAVE ME!-

They had stopped short of the bosatsu gallery as Akechi expounded by the merits of going through a place like a shopping mall, or a concert hall, or a bus, or a train car at rush hour, etc, etc etc, to train Toritsuka's spirit medium ability so that Toritsuka could better separate ghosts from people.

Toritsuka ignored whatever Akechi was saying. He had perfected his ability to differentiate between people and ghosts by now. Heck, he could keep a couple of souls in his body and possess other people if he wanted. He just hadn't expounded on that to Akechi yet since the only people who knew about it were Saiki and Saiki's freaky older brother.

If only Akechi would ever shut up long enough for Toritsuka to get a word in and get solving on this malfunctioning psychic power crap.

They finally reached the bosatsu gallery. Something caught Toritsuka's attention, one that caused his eyes to nearly bugged out of his eye sockets.

"As I was saying..." Akechi paused a moment as he felt Toritsuka placed a firm grip on the wordy genius's shoulder. "What is it Toritsuka-kun? It is unusual for people to try to interrupt my soliloquy. Most know that they don't have a chance but they keep on trying. Oh! What's going on?"

The two were no more than five meters away from the homeless-looking man who was with Teruhashi earlier.

"What was I suppose to see?" asked Akechi. "I only see that homeless man who was with Teruhashi-san earlier. Are you seeing something through your spirit medium sight? Can you describe what you're seeing?"

The momentary silence offering by Akechi was precious and Toritsuka was about to open his mouth to say something. Except, Toritsuka was busy turning white, like he was a normal person, seeing a ghost.

"See. My intuition to follow that hobo is right!" celebrated Akechi. "That hobo must be some sort of an extraordinary person! Judging by your expression, you are seeing something out of the extraordinary. Speak of extraordinary, how long did it take the ghosts to tell you about Kusuo-kun? Did you have to ask the ghosts directly? Or did they volunteer the information? I know that Kusuo-kun didn't want attention and moved several times to avoid having to answer questions from his peers, but could he have done the same with ghosts? I don't think he can talk to ghosts. Kusuo-kun isn't a very good liar, you know. You'd think he'd be used to it by now, you know, have prepared answers to any questions that probed too deeply..."

Toritsuka was completely not paying attention to whatever Akechi was saying. "Are you even seeing this?" he asked over whatever Akechi was spouting.

Akechi looked briefly at the bosatsu gallery. "I see the hobo on his butt and a donation box upfront at the entrance. Is that what you're looking at?"

Toritsuka was about to say something, but Akechi, ever so predictably, already moved onto the next topic.

"Who are the benefactors of the Desire Temple?" asked Akechi. "They must be pretty wealthy since you can afford these statue displays and minimal donation boxes at every resting stop and a limited gift shop. Come to think of it. You're actually pretty well off for a monk, aren't you Toritsuka-kun? Aren't you suppose to take a vow of poverty. How come you can afford all those pornos, online gaming subscriptions, going out to cafes, promise coffees for girls and electric guitars for which you're absolutely horrid at. Does your father give you an allowance while you're here?"

Akechi would have further grilled Toritsuka until the spirit medium's head exploded, but Aiura showed up just in time to save the day.

"Sup, psychikers." She hailed. She took extra liberties with her greeting with Akechi and grabbed one of his arms like she was his girlfriend.

Sure enough, Akechi's cheeks blushed pink when he felt the forbidden soft womanly mounds on his arm. He even quietly mouthed "offu." The 'offu' was not as strong as meeting Teruhashi earlier, but still effective in terminating his thoughts down to a more normal range.

Whatever Toritsuka was looking at took so much attention that he did not notice Aiura.

"You're welcome, Pervy Monk," said Aiura offhandedly. Toritsuka could be so useless sometimes. Seriously. How useless can Toritsuka be that he had to call a girl to fend off a talky nerdy boy."Hey. Earth to Pervy Monk. Are you even listening?"

Aiura's eyes followed Toritsuka's gaze to the bosatsu gallery.

Looks like some weird homeless man was sitting awkwardly on his ass.

Aiura sucked in a breath as she let go of Akechi. "Shit. That guy has the mark of death on his face." Quickly cycling through her ocular gifts, she foresaw one of the disasters.

"You! Get out of there!" she shouted as she ran toward the bosatsu gallery.

In the next five seconds, Aiura was able to cross the few meters between where the PK Psyhickers were hanging out and the hobo. She grabbed the man's arm and began to drag.

The hobo was startled, of course. "Hey! What are you doing!?" he demanded.

Aiura was able to drag the man over by a body width before a heavy statue fell over, narrowly missed flattening homeless-looking man.

The rest, of the gang, Toritsuka and Akechi, both ran over to Aiura and the hobo.

Both Aiura and hobo stared at the spot where the statue had fallen. The statue was so heavy that it cracked the stone floor and most certainly would have crushed a person.

"Hey. Oji-san. Are you okay?" asked Aiura, even while she stared intently at his face.

Good to know that death marks could be seen even with a guy who tried to obscure his facial features. It was faded from before. So the Psychiker's interference had some effect.

Gratefulness was not the Oji-san response. The said homeless-looking Oji-san took off his facemask, glasses and beanie hat, displaying his full glow. "Who are you calling old?!" he demanded.

All three, Toritsuka, Aiura, and Akechi stared at the awesome glow and attractiveness of Teruhashi Makoto, a glow that could make straight men gay.

"Holy hotness! It's the idol Mugami Toru!" said Aiura with a gasp. "Wow! I didn't think I would meet you here. I've always wanted to meet you! You're hotter in person than I thought."

Even Torituska and Akechi were mesmerized.

Aiura was not paying attention to her fellow psychikers. Her hazel eyes narrowed slightly as her prescience quickly ran through one of the most common questions in an adolescent's mind. "But you're still a virgin, Muagami-san," said Aiura with a mischievous smile.

Teruhashi Makoto, better known by his stage name of Mugami Toru immediately blushed at that unusual assessment.

Sure enough, to the credit of Mugami Toru's charisma, his reaction only mutually made Aiura, Toritsuka and Akechi blush too, like they had been the ones who were embarrassed.

No time for more mutual blushing. Makoto blinked and began to panic when he heard a distant roar of a stampede and squealing of girls and women.

"I hear Mugami."

"I feel Mugami!"

"I can taste Mugami!!!"

"Shit!" said Mugami Toru. He quickly put his disguise back on. He pulled on Toritsuka's arm and demanded, "Monk-san, hide me!"

Toritsuka wasn't known for quick thinking. This was a dude and not one of his monk superiors, so his automatic ingratiating attitude didn't kick in. This was a hot looking dude, though, one who was so hot that Toritsuka wouldn't mind changing his preferences temporarily. The switch seemed to have broken his brain.

Aiura still had a presence of mind to act. "In here! Quickly," said Aiura, dragging them back into the bosatsu gallery, and crouched to hide behind the solid wooden bleachers upon which the statues were placed. Toritsuka followed.

Which left Akechi all by himself, outside the gallery.

There was an uproar outside the temple as the hoard of women arrived, invisibly drawn by their drone-like sixth sense for the idol Mugami. Once they arrived though, having their sixth sense failed them due to the very lack of the idol, they began to meander and mill around like love-struck zombies. Some of them even walked through the gallery, walking around the fallen statue like a large obstruction through a walking path was nothing unusual. On the plus side, they all donated to the charity box, since Mugami Toru might have touched it.

Some of the women accosted Akechi, demanding the teen to give up their idol.

Akechi was not completely unaware socially. He took the hint from his fellow psychikers and directed the woman to the next set of statues and shrines, telling them about the large, nearly car-sized bell and the log mallet. He hinted that the said idol Mugami might have gone that way and might have rung the bell and willingly donated 2,000 yen to the cause for great luck on his next movie deal. Akechi even offered to lead the women to the bell, which was conviniently located on the other corner of the temple.

The trio Aiura, Toritsuka, and Mugami who hide in the back of the bosatsu gallery tried not to breathe too much since it was somewhat dusty in the back area and no one wanted to cough or sneeze and catch attention.

It was a good ten minutes before, with the help of Akechi's relentless directions, the women wandered off.

Then, as if to permanently seal the deal, the ultimate threat to all women's self-esteem showed up, which came with another 'offu' from Akechi.

"Oh, Akechi-kun, what a pleasant surprise to see you again," came Kokomi's sweet voice.

"Offu!"

With her conquest reaffirmed, Kokomi moved on. "O-Nii-chan," Kokomi called sweetly. "I'm here. A bunch of women just walked past me. Did your sunglasses fall off?"

To the surprise of Aiura and Toritsuka their idol Mugami Toru immediately jumped up and scrambled toward the voice.

It was then that the PK Academy Psychikers realized that Teruhashi Kokomi's older brother, Teruhashi Makoto, was the famed idol Mugami Toru.

After the awkward initial realization, a lot of nervous gestures like scratching the back of the neck, twiddling of the fingers by the PK Academy Psychikers in front of such glowing beauties, Kokomi held her small hands together, her lips pert, eyes half winking and requested, "Please don't tell people that Mugami Toru is my older brother Teruhashi Makoto. I don't want an uproar at school."

Makoto was far more formal. Used to working in the entertainment business and interacting with managers and people of power, he knew the type of outward suck up displays that guaranteed favor. He had his hands on his sides and bowed deeply. "Please respect my little sister's wishes."

The awesome allures of the Teruhashis were far too powerful so PK Academy Psyhickers could only nod and swear to carry the secret to their graves.

Even Aiura did not have the heart to throw the usual challenge-look at Kokomi.

Before the Teruhashis and the PK Academy Psychikers parted ways, though, everyone helped to get the fallen bosatsu statue back to its original stand on the wooden bleachers. Toritsuka was going to do it himself, as a monk of the temple, but the statue was at least 50 kilograms, about 80 percent of Toritsuka's body weight. He did have half a mind to lift it himself, more to impress Teruhashi Kokomi than to actually perform his duties at the temple.

There was just one problem. The bleacher spot where the fallen statue used to sit was gouged and blackened like it had been burned. The blackened area was soft and brittle, which was the initial reason why the statue fell over in the first place. Makoto, Toritsuka, and Akechi were automatically delegated the task of at least wedging the statue to a place near the original location while the girls supervised.

"Well, that's strange," Toritsuka commented offhandedly as he picked up the small aluminum candle holder off the floor. Toritsuka placed the aluminum candle holder and its candle back into the right open palm hand of the bosatsu statue. "The candle holder is warm and the candle wax is soft."

"Why is that strange, Toritsuka-kun," asked Kokomi.

Having his name called by such an angel as Teruhashi Kokomi, Toritsuka took a moment to savor the sound of his own name. "The candles are supposed to be decorative," said Toritsuka. "We don't light them unless the gallery is attended by one of our adept monks." Toritsuka pointed to the ceiling. "The entire building is wood, paper with straw ceiling is glued together by a traditional oil-based binder. It's a big fire hazard."

At that, Makoto blinked as his interest was piqued by the mystery. "So that kid was real?"

"What kid?" asked Aiura, as she went back to being Akechi's pretend girlfriend.

"There was this little blond kid about this tall," explained Makoto, holding his hand at about waist high, "wearing a gray yukata. It was really weird. He pointed at the candles and they lit, so I assumed that the candles were one of those battery operated lights that you can turn on with a remote. I thought it was a trick."

At that, Kokomi peeped up. "Oh yeah. I saw a kid like that earlier too. He was at the Benzaiten shrine. He's by himself. I mean, it's not totally unusual for a kid like that to wander around by himself but the parents are somewhere nearby."

Makoto nodded. "Well, that kid said that his dad is at Ikkoku Yama Rural Hospital or something. It didn't sound like a place from around here, though."

"Ikkoku Yama?" echoed Akechi. "Hum...That's odd. If it's the Ikkoku Yama that I'm thinking of, then that's really far away."

All eyes were on Akechi. "Like how far?" asked Makoto.

Akechi's mind quickly reached for the endless facts that raced in his mind, "Last I checked, it's 1.5 hours by train, 2 hours by plane, another 2 hours by train, and 45 minutes by bus. Add at least half an hour in between stops and it takes about 9 to 10 hours to get there from here."

Everyone looked at Akechi like he some sort of freak of nature. "How the heck did you know that?" asked Aiura.

Not at all self-conscious, Akechi continued with spitting out the facts. "Ikkoku Yama is one of those aging small agrarian towns that gets talked about from time to time in the news. You know, the type with pretty much all old people when all the young people left for the cities, as if our society had forgotten all about filial piety and how that's a sign of societal collapse."

Everyone paid rapt attention, now that Akechi was not off spouting whatever came to his mind.

"There's a recent revival in Ikkoku Yama, though. A random eccentric millionaire injected a bunch of money into the town, upgrading infrastructures like the internet, cell towers, hospitals, public works, the road, stuff like that. So younger people had been moving to it more recently for the quiet country life but still have high-speed internet and healthcare access. It's still very hard to get to, physically. It's nestled in a valley and road washouts are common during the rainy season."

"How did you know that?" noted Makoto a twist of his brow. This felt almost like one of his detective shows, where he, the hero, had all the knowledge to solve a mystery. "That's an even more random fact."

"Well," said Akechi, "You've said it's Ikkoku Yama Rural Hospital. There's only one 'rural' town in the country called Ikkoku Yama. My best friend's grandparents live there."

At the discussion of that fact, Aiura and Toritsuka glanced at each other. As PK Psychikers who had worked closely together in the recent weeks, they've come to know each other a little better. They knew that there was only one person whom Akechi considered as a best friend.

That said best friend certainly didn't volunteer that information.

Sneaky Akechi must have been that creepy stalker/investigator to figure this out.

What else had Akechi found out about them?

Akechi touched his chin in thought. "Maybe this lost kid's parents divorced? My parents did that and they can't be within six hours of each other. I mean, my dad took out a restraining order against mom because she tracked him down and stabbed him."

The four other people in the group took a moment to sweatdrop, not sure if they heard him correctly.

Akechi continued without slowing down. "Not that is relevant to any of this, and dad lived, by the way. I'm just trying to think why a kid's parent be so far away. Eventually, one of the kid's parents will come looking for him, no? From the sound of it, it seemed like this kid looked like someone was taking care of him, right? I mean, yukatas cost more than regular clothes and take time to put them on. I think you should just let it play out. I'm sure one of the monks would help out."

Surprisingly, Akechi stopped right there and did not digress into another long-winded discussion.

"Well, whoever that is, Monk-san here will keep you updated," volunteered Aiura. "Right Monk-san?"

Toritsuka was not looking at Aiura. Instead, he looked to the rafters of the bosatsu gallery. His expression had turned pale.

"Earth to Toritsuka-kun," called Kokomi with her usual sweet voice. "Are you okay?"

Toritsuka nodded, his attention back to the group.

"Are you sure, Toritsuka-kun? You look like you've seen a ghost," said Kokomi.

Toritsuka swallowed hard. "You could say that." He looked back to his fellow PK Academy Psychikers. It was obvious they had to meet soon.

Before the group could move onto the next thing, they heard several blood-curdling screams in the distance.

Makoto immediately grabbed his sister and held onto her protectively.

As for Aiura, she immediately grabbed hold of Akechi.

Poor Akechi, he seemed to be the most stable and steady person of the PK Academy Psychikers since even Toritsuka grabbed onto Akechi.

A short moment later, the group of five saw a rush of monks going toward the bell monument, where Akechi had sent the rabid Mugami fans.

"Junpei!" called Toritsuka to one of the monks running by. "What happened?"

The said Junpei was a generic-looking monk, with a shaved head, prayer beads, and dark gray samue to indicate that he had advanced past the initiate monk ranking. He was just talking on a cell phone, the serious expression clearly indicating that he was in communication with whoever was in on the action.

"The two-tonne bell broke!" yelled Junpei. "It seemed like a kid got hurt."

"Who?"

"Some high school kid," said Junpei. "I don't know the details, but Senji said the bell fell on the kid's head and pinned the kid to a railing. There is at least a concussion and a broken bone."

There was no time for the group to gasp.

"I gotta go Reita. The ambulance and emergency rescue had already been called," said Junpei. "Please escort your friends and visitors off the premises."

Chapter Text

A little bit later, once the Teruhashi siblings went about their way out of the temple, the emergency rescue staff had extricated the poor high schooler who was nearly crushed, the three active members of the PK Academy Psychikers went around a corner of one of the temple's empty absolution buildings. It was a location where they could not be heard.

"Aiura, what happened?" were the first words out of Toritsuka once they found their more-or-less private hiding spot.

Unused to Mr. Pevert calling her by her actual name, the fortune teller stared at the spirit medium, honestly dumb. "What do you mean by 'what happened?'" she asked. The woman tightened her grip on Akechi, who was predictably quieted by her womanly wiles.

Toritsuka hugged himself as he looked furtively to the right and left, up and down. He took a moment to make a circle with his thumb and pointing finger, looking through to make sure that he was truly seeing the absence of ghosts. His expression indicated that he was uncomfortable about something.

"A few weeks ago," Toritsuka began, "you made me 'fess up about Saiki-san's scary older brother. Then you said something about Saiki-san not coming back to school soon. I didn't think too much about it since it's Saiki-san and you're always saying weird fortune telling shit anyways. You didn't tell us something, at the time. What have you left out?"

Aiura was taken back by such questioning. Normally, Toritsuka was not this perceptive. "What are you talking about, Toritsuka?" asked Aiura with a veneer of wariness.

"I just saw a ghost," said Toritsuka as he hugged himself again, goosebumps visible on his arms and neck. "I think it's the ghost of Saiki-san's older brother."

Aiura sucked in a breath.

Toritsuka shook his head a little, grimacing at the memory. "But he is all wrong. Ghosts typically take on the form they had when they died, or something close to it. They have no recollection of their past life and generally, the worse they can do is poltergeist activities or say means things to each other.

"Saiki-san's older brother didn't do that. He seemed to have reverted to a different state, a different age. five to seven years old? Maybe? He looked at me and..." Toritsuka became silent, as if the image was too vivid for him to put into words. "He...oh...god...he must've died a horrific death."

The group was silent for a brief moment, taking in what appeared to be genuine fear from Toritsuka. It was unusual, as this was Toritsuka, the guy who was dumb enough to demand a whole slew of unreasonable, disgusting, favors from pretty much everybody.

"But, Toritsuka-kun, if what you've said is true, then how can you tell it was him?" asked Akechi thoughtfully. "From my research, Kusuo's older brother is a couple of years older, so that would place Kusuo's older brother right at twenty years old. But you said that Kusuo's older brother looked like a child. Generally, it takes some time to recognize a person at a different age. The hairstyle could've changed. The face shape definitely changes. It's not always easy to discern between an adult look and a child look."

"Oh, come on," groused Toritsuka. "That's like saying that it's hard to tell between a kid Saiki Kusuo and an adult Saiki Kusuo. No one else is that striking looking or give off that distinctive of a creepy, craptastic, oppressive vibe." Torituska beat himself on the head. "Arg. No wonder Saik is nonstop 'I don't want attention.' People must've looked at them like they were looking at a freak show. They must've always used some sort of psychic suggestion so that people don't notice them."

Aiura frowned at Toritsuka's continued insistence. "Are you sure you're not seeing things due to oxygen deprivation in your perverted, sex addled brain?"

"Look. I know what I saw," said Toritsuka, ignoring Aiura's insulting jab. "That barely detectable presence, but still oppressively there. That feeling of someone who sees people as playthings. It's not an impression that anyone can just forget." Toritsuka rubbed his arms to mitigate the goosebumps. "I think I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life. I might need to move back to my father's temple if I ever want to sleep again." He looked at Aiura intently. "Aiura. What have you not told us?."

Aiura bit her lips at that question.

It was true.

She hadn't told anyone about Kusuo's visit to her fortune teller house out of her usual habit of more or less keeping her mouth shut about Kusuo's activities. Kusuo was her soulmate, after all, and she would do anything to curry his favor, even if it meant keeping some of their friends in the dark about something horrible he did.

Not there were any major secrets to keep other than Kusuo's generally overpowered psychic abilities.

Right?

"Aiura. Last time. Spill!" demanded Toritsuka.

Aiura felt nervous sweat forming on her brow. She recalled Kusuo's unsteady mood that night at the fortune teller house. That moment where Aiura thought that her soulmate was about to lose it.

"Fine," said Aiura, finally relenting. "The day after mid-terms, you know, the day when we had all those weird accidents at school, Kusuo came to me to look for a random blond person." There was a pause as Aiura thought through what details to tell and what to keep to herself. "I told him that person is either a figment of his imagination or someone that's so dead and gone that there's not even a body left." Aiura took a breath and shook her head as she recalled Kusuo's reaction. "He seemed so angry about it for like, two seconds, but went back to his usual 'I don't give a damn' resting face, you know. I thought he was just testing me."

Toritsuka just stared at Aiura, as if she was guilty of withholding such an important piece of information.

Aiura did not let the Toritsuka's gaze bother her. The spirit medium was so undependable that it was hard to take him seriously.

"Then Kusuo said some mysterious shit," continued Aiura, "like how he can completely destroy the world in hours or save it but he can't even change the fate of one person or some dramatic nonsense like that. Then he thanked me for helping him out."

Now that got a reaction from both Akechi and Toritsuka.

Akechi said nothing, but his eyes widened.

"He actually thanked you!?" exclaimed Toritsuka. "Well, that confirms it, doesn't it?"

"I guess," Aiura said with a shrug.

"Saiki-san threatened to wreck the world, after he spent so much effort to save it, and you didn't think it was something big!?" blurted out Toritsuka incredulously.

Aiura shrugged nonchalantly. She was the cool, responsible Psychiker. "Kusuo can do whatever the hell he wants. Plus, I got nothing to confirm whatever happened. You saw what happened to the crystal balls when I tried to look for Kusuo. I can't find him. It's like a cloud of camouflage had covered him. Miko-chan only speaks of the true future, you know."

Toritsuka was barely listening to her, his mind racing through the possibilities. "No wonder Saiki-san withdrew from school," said Toritsuka to himself. He ran his hand through his hair in nervousness. "His older brother just died. They're both telepathic so Saiki-san must've known down to the very moment and completely freaked out."

Aiura looked at Toritsuka like he just lost his mind. "Kusuo? Freaked out? That's impossible. Nothing ever bothers him."

"Did you not hear a thing I've said all those weeks ago?" asked Toritsuka, frustrated. "Saiki-san's older brother created those hairpins of his! How would you react if the thing that makes it possible for you to be around normal people suddenly becomes impossible to get?" Seeing that Aiura was not getting it, Toritsuka tried a different tactic. "Like, how would you react if there were suddenly no more crystal ball makers in the world?"

Aiura waved a hand, dismissing Toritsuka. "Oh. That's just preposterous. That can't happen. I can get a pack of twenty pocket crystal balls for 100 yen each! There are hundreds of merchants, websites, that I can get crystal balls from. There's got to be other people who can make hairpins, right?"

Toritsuka nearly rolled his eyes. He kept on forgetting that Aiura had never seen the brothers interact and could not appreciate Toritsuka's instinctive understanding of the Saiki brother's innate dynamic. "Yeah. Right. You think you can go online and just search for devices that suppress Saiki-san's god-like psychic powers?" asked Toritsuka rhetorically. "Never mind that Saiki-san just lost his older brother. He lost the only person who can help him deal with his powers." Toritsuka began to beat on his head again, feeling so stupid for not realizing something so important about his close friend. "Arg! No wonder the weather and the karma around the school had been so bad lately. Saiki-san must've been so freaked out that he probably wouldn't have cared if he accidentally flooded this town and killed everyone."

Aiura only stared at Toritsuka like he was some screeching zoo animal, somewhat incredulous and somewhat dismissive.

Akechi seemed abstracted. He had heard parts of Toritsuka's He seemed thoughtful when he said, "Toritsuka-kun. I have a question for you."

"What?"

"Why would you say that they're both telepathic?" asked Akechi. "In the past, you've said that you're not sure if Kusuo-kun's older brother is an esper or not. You've said that both are telepathic at least twice now, wouldn't that suggests that Kusuo-kun's older brother is an esper too?"

At that question, Toritsuka went silent. He seemed to mull over the question, while periodically taking a look to make sure no mysterious ghost had popped up.

"I'm not sure," said Toritsuka after a while. "I can't explain it. He always seems to know what I'm thinking. It was strange since the ghosts at the lab don't know who he is..." Toritsuka stared at Akechi as if he just pressed one of those red press-here-to-end-the-world buttons. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."

"Toritsuka-kun?" said Akechi, his expression in his usual manic but robotic half-smile.

"Saiki-san's older brother is the kishin," realized Toritsuka. "Oh my god! Why haven't I figure this out until now? That explains a fuck tonne of shit."

Now, it was Aiura's turn to look confused. "Wait. What do you mean?"

"Because that explains so many damn things," said Toritsuka.

"You've just said that!" reminded Aiura. "What are you talking about?"

Toritsuka took a moment to calm himself and think back on that one wacked-out time that he had spent with Kusuo's older brother.

"You guys knew that I spent an entire week with him, right? At his home which is some sort of mad scientist's lab?"

Aiura nodded gingerly while Akechi blinked and barely nodded.

"In the entire week that I was with him, I never saw his guardian spirit," said Toritsuka, his own eyes wide. "Even the ghosts around his place were these disembodied blobs without identities. It's like, those ghosts were there because he wanted them to be. And there were so few around, and never any in his presence."

"Wait, but didn't you say that ghosts are all around us, all the time?" asked Aiura.

Toritsuka, still with wide eyes, nodded, while continuing. "Yes. Ghosts are around us all the time, but not around Saiki-san's older brother. Now that I think about it. It was really spooky. Saiki-san's older brother is an amazing person so ghosts should naturally congregate around him. But it's like the ghosts avoided him..." Toritsuka's jaw suddenly dropped. "Holy shit. He must be the reason why I never heard about Saiki-san until now."

Both Aiura and Akechi blinked, looking to Toritsuka for more answers. "I don't understand," verbalized Aiura.

"Think about it. ESPers are so rare that they are celebrities in the spirit world and ghosts are naturally drawn to them," said Torituska. "That's how I learned about Saiki-san in the first place, because one of the ghosts blabbed about him to me. Granted, it was because that ghost said that Saiki-san can see through clothes and into people's underwear. When I first heard about Saiki-san, I was 15 years old and the I remember the ghosts telling it to me like it was news! But that doesn't make any sense! It shouldn't BE news!"

Aiura just stared at Toritsuka like he had grown a second head. "What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

This time, it was Akechi who caught on. "You're saying that Kusuo-kun had powers and exercised those powers all his life," stated Akechi. "If ghosts can see everything that the living are doing at all times, then why did it take years for Toritsuka-kun here to hear about it?" Akechi looked to the spirit medium. "You think it's because Kusuo-kun's older brother had prevented the ghosts from seeing Kusuo-kun, because kishins are the fierce deity, the god of ghosts. You're saying that Kusuo-kun's older brother was able to make sure that no ghosts can witness Kusuo-kun's usage of his psychic powers and effectively hiding him from spirit mediums like you."

Toritsuka nodded, expression of incredulous horror and shock on his face as he thought through some more of the details of that one week he had spent with Saiki-san's older brother. "And that same freak taught me demonic possession during that time period," realized Toritsuka. "I had no one to practice it with except him and he freely kicked me out of his body once I succeeded." Toritsuka facepalmed. "I've been trying to learn from the wrong Saiki-san this entire time! ARG! No wonder Saiki-san's abilities are so versatile and he used it so easily without hesitation, despite how dangerously powerful he is."

The two other psychikers only stared at Toritsuka. One in confusion. The other had a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Guys! Don't you know what this means!?" asked Toritsuka as he had happened upon the Rosetta Stone to decipher ancient text.

Sure enough, it was Akechi who, again, quickly made the mental connections. "I think I understand what you mean," said Akechi.

By now, Aiura had unconsciously let go of Akechi. Still, distracted by the mystery in front of them, Akechi had yet to lapse into his usual distracted, rapid narrative.

"What you're saying is that because of Kusuo's older brother's instructions, you were able to learn demonic possession, a new skill set, in such a short time period," said Akechi. "In that same vein, you're saying that Kusuo's psychic powers have always been so well controlled, so precise because Kusuo always had a teacher."

Toritsuka nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense. The best teachers are the ones who push you to expand and hone your abilities without you realizing it. I certainly never realized that Saiki-san's older brother taught me a new spirit medium skill until now. And it only took him less than a week."

"Well, to be honest, you don't have much talent to begin with," said Aiura. "He didn't have to get creative."

"Oh, shut up," said Toritsuka with unusual irritation. "You know, Aiura. I'm annoyed with you. Saiki-san is our friend. You should've said something. We could've been there for him."

Aiura felt a bubbling tenseness from Toritsuka's uncharacteristically harsh tone with her. She was not about to let it go. "Well, with Kusuo's shitty personality, you think he would even allow us to get close to him?" Aiura pointed out blandly. "Besides, the problem at the moment is that Kusuo's older brother is still here as a ghost. Don't people only come back as ghosts because they have some sort of regret? Or lingering will?"

Toritsuka shook his head. "No. Not always. Most have lingering will, yes. But their memories are so bad that they forget why they stayed in the living world. Some manifest as poltergeists but most just hang out. Eventually, they disappear into the next life. Saiki-san's older brother had that look of determination...like...he's free from something and was going to cause some mischief." Toritsuka shivered again. "Some really bad mischief."

Akechi and Aiura were about to say something more but there was a rustling from somewhere close.

It was the adept monk, Junpei. "There you are, Reita. I've been looking everywhere for you. We're having a temple meeting right now." He looked to Akechi and Aiura. "I thought I've told you that High Priest Kasunao wanted all guests escorted off the premises."

"I'm getting to that," said Toritsuka to his fellow monk. He turned to his two fellow PK Academy Psychikers. "Sorry guys. You have to leave. This meeting will likely take the rest of the day so let's meet up again at school. If you figure out anything more, text me."

With that, Aiura and Akechi left the Desire Temple, leaving a couple of serious-looking monks to the business of damage control.

Chapter Text

Kusuo rubbed his eyes before putting the glasses back on his face. He took a break to slouch in the office chair before sitting back up.

He was at the Psi Industries' temporary corporate office which was an aircraft hanger that was equipped with the necessary equipment, cubical space, and offices.

As the boss, his workspace was upgraded to a second-floor office that overlooked the cubical space. The office itself was like a giant fishbowl, with wall-sized windows that faced the airfield and cubicle space. There was one large white desk with monitors that surrounded the work desk like a semi-sphere. The floor was a smooth metal plate decking. There were no decorations outside of a potted plant on the desk.

The monitors that surrounded the work desk broadcasted information nonstop, computer code, news coverage, stock prices, and whatever else flashed on those screens, casting a mosaic of colors on Kusuo's pale face.

The white desk was empty except for a spare keyboard and one of Kuusuke's journal.

In studying Kuusuke's handwritten journals for about a couple of weeks, Kusuo quickly figured out a really big problem.

Kusuo did not fully understand the mathematics contained in the journals.

The sections of the journals where Kusuo's contribution was denoted were simple. Memories of methodical study, the reasonings, the logic pathways, came back easily. A minute glance was all he needed.

The sections of the journal that were Kuusuke's work, which was the majority of the work, proved to be far more tricky to understand. Kuusuke came up with the foundational recursive backbone and integrated the theories. Much of the integration required an understanding of complex algebra, non-linear number theory, and non-euclidean geometry.

These were topics that Kusuo did not have a lot of in-depth knowledge. Nevermind that he was never taught these in school, which was now was at beginner topics of calculus, statistics, and trigonometry. Most of his highest level of theoretical mathematics understanding was pretty much whatever he had to do back when he worked with Kuusuke to come up with the first generation limiters and that had been nearly a decade ago.

Kusuo hated to admit it, but mathematics was not his favorite subject. He wouldn't have even gone through that mental exercise if not, according to a couple of psychometric memories in the journals, for Kuusuke offering to make desserts and saying yes to everything their parents had forbidden to Kusuo. It seemed like Kuusuke was able to get Kusuo to intensely study a generally dull topic in exchange for the privilege of drinking coffee before bed, getting and playing a new gaming console and the accompanying slew of shitty games, and watching TV into wee hours of the morning on a school night.

Since when did Kusuo need anyone's permission to do those things?

Good news though; based on the conclusions in the journals, Kusuo was able to assemble a version of his first-generation limiter.

It just didn't work as well as the one that Kuusuke built years ago.

General everyday nuisances such as strength, telepathy range, x-ray vision, teleportation did seem to reduce, just not as much. Strength reduced enough but he still broke things. Telepathy range also reduced, but now it was at a kilometer range and the loudness of people's inner voice gave him a constant migraine on top of the current ones from his other problems. People became immediate walking meat bags.

The robustness of the limiter was also confounding.

Kuusuke's limiters operated pretty much the entire possible range of Kusuo's pyrokinesis and cryokinesis skillset, which was comfortably below -10 C and well above 150 C. Past those temperatures, Kusuo would naturally engage one or the other ability to protect himself and thus the limiters.

The limiters that Kusuo built did not do that. Anything under 5 C and over about 32 C would start to make the limiter malfunction. Instead of creating a whole host of wack out of powers or even easing up on psychic power control, the malfunction only left him with an intense, blinding headache that lasted nearly an hour. He discovered this while trying out pyrokinesis to burn off infections to maintain his general health. "Damn" was probably the mildest term he used once he recovered.

The routine checking his body temperature while using the limiter that he assembled indicated that his version was not keeping the burning down consistently, which meant going back to problem number one, eventually. A newly assembled limiter generally lasted about three days it starts to malfunction and he had to switch it out.

He also realized that being awake when his body temperature reached the critical temperature was a very unpleasant experience. His body seemed to have a narrow range of where it decided between normal ESP use and ESP damage. Normal ESP usage might mean sweating and experiencing a level of discomfort similar to being in a humid, sweaty gym. ESP damage usually meant all his nerves feeling like they're suddenly on fire and physically so painful that he nearly wished he combusted to make the sensation stop.

Luckily, switching out the control devices back to the ones that Kuusuke had assembled immediately brought the temperature back to a normal range.

Kusuo was able to determine that the problem lied in the usage of compact programming in the limiter that modulated the electrical impulses sent into Kusuo's head. Translating from handwritten mathematical proof to computer programming language in a microprocessor that had to fit inside a matchbox and a golf ball, along with whatever other gadgets was near impossible without serious study.

Nevermind how Kuusuke was able to miniaturize all of it into the size of a sewing pin and increase its effectiveness in the third-generation limiter.

Kusuo did consider reverse engineering the limiters, though that would mean deliberately disassembling the limiters that Kuusuke built with the hopes that he could successfully reassemble them. He could rely on his Restoration powers to them back to a usable state but it was not a guarantee. His temporal abilities had a tendency of messing up due to the butterfly effect if he adjusted events too far in the past. So reverse engineering was not exactly something Kusuo was willing to try until he completely exhausted all other options.

Progress was slow, too. Judging by the amount of time he had left to study the journals after a full day of dealing with 'a lot of stuff,' it could be years before he could fully duplicate Kuusuke's work and only to the first generation of limiters.

At least the immediate threat of flashover if he ever broke the limiters that Kuusuke built was mostly off the table. That in itself was an immense relief. His parents and grandmother Risa would be pleased to know that.

He just had to avoid telling them about the likelihood of an ultra shitty quality of life if he could not fully duplicate Kuusuke's work.

Kusuo did start swearing again that he was going to make Kuusuke pay in the next life, though that phrase was a little less serious than before.

Knowing, irrefutably, that Kuusuke cared did mollify what felt like an eon of foul mood.

Kusuo felt that even though mom was still grieving and was getting only slightly better, that his parents were still fighting, that his memories had been screwed with and the stress of everything was probably going to give him a psychotic break at some point, that he could somehow overcome this.

According to the dates in the journals, it took both them, he and Kuusuke, about two years to come up with the first generation limiter. If they were able to peck at the problem for that long to come to a solution as two bumbling children, then Kusuo should be able to fix this, as a driven adult.

Alone.

Kusuo allowed himself to frown more than typical as he felt the unusual stinging in the eyes.

That was the real problem all along, wasn't it?

Kusuo had never been alone in dealing with his psychic powers, even if he felt like he was alone. He always had his first playmate there to challenge him, to irritate him, to understand him, to help him when no one else could. With both of them, nothing could go wrong. If something did go wrong, it was always controlled.

And now...

There was a polite knock on the glass door.

The bobbling beared red-headed William slide the glass door open.

"Hey Mr. Psi," greeted the corporate lackey. "Ready to go to your welcome party?"

The said Mr. Psi immediately shot down the idea. "No."

"We even got Andy from the Board of Directors to commit come," enticed William, not easily deterred. "He's not far behind me."

"Some other time,"

"You know that we'll just keep on having your after-work welcome happy hour every other day until you showed up, right?" reminded William, completely undeterred. "We'll do a toast to the late Mr. Psi."

"I'll pass."

Still not discouraged, William entered the office with an unusual boldness that was likely derived from not being fired for his more colorful remarks. He took a moment to look outside the large glass window to the airfield. The sky was dark with clouds and drizzling rain. Large heavy droplets steadily tapped at and trail down the windows like tears.

Damn English weather. It was overcast only a few hours ago. How were they going to have that fun outdoor binge-drinking party when it rained nonstop?

The boss has that glazed look of someone not completely present. It was a look that William was used to since the previous boss was always contemplating one thing or another. The only difference was that the old boss always plastered on an inviting half-smile when someone came into his presence while the new boss didn't bother. Some say that mannequins showed more emotions than the new boss.

Once William gotten close enough, he saw that the boss was looking through what appeared to be a composition notebook with some complicated-looking mathematical proof and some diagrams. The glow of the monitors reflected on the boss man's face like some sort of twisted light show.

"Woah, what is this?" asked William from across the desk, genuinely curious.

Surprisingly, the boss answered him. "My brother's journal."

At the risk of being too familiar, William picked up the notebook that the boss was looking at.

"Hum...Taylor series with complex integration and subsequent derivations," observed William as he casually flipped through a few pages. His training in mathematics and statistics was not totally useless. "Wow. This is some serious theoretical math stuff. You understand this?"

"Which part?"

William placed the journal back down on the desk pointed to the specific spot in the notebook.

"This is simple. I came up with that and he wrote it down," said the boss. He turned a couple of pages where there was an unrecognizable Kanji denotation. "My brother came up with this section."

William shuffled over to stand next to the boss man so he could better see and read the journal. He completely ignored the stiff body language that indicated that the boss man was uncomfortable with the sudden close proximity. William did not care. There was some theoretical math to be looked at! As William read further, his eyes slowly widen. "What the heck is this? It's a brilliant proof! Really complex and I don't completely understand it."

"That's not the complex part," corrected the boss as he flipped a few more pages. "This concatenation here is mystifying."

William followed along with the notation and logic for the first three or so lines before the mental leap became too complicated to follow. "When did the late Mr. Psi come up with this?" asked William, fascinated.

"That section that you're looking at was completed when he was twelve," said the boss man.

William's jaws dropped. "Are you having a laugh?"

Without changing facial expression the boss man shot back, "Are you a blonde?"

It took a moment for William to catch on to the joke. "Ha ha. Very funny, Mr. Psi," said William dryly. "You know it's so hard to remember that your brother was a genius with a doctorate from Cambridge University; he was always so down to earth and normal when you interact with him."

Oddly enough, the boss man seemed intrigued by the off-handed comment, not that William paid much attention to notice.

"I mean, a few years ago," William continued. "Violet and I caught him skateboarding and graffitiing at an abandoned industrial park with a bunch of delinquents on the east side of London. He was in ripped jeans, a sleeveless hoodie T-shirt, earbuds, metal spike bracelet, and chains, looking like one of those stereotypical punks you'd meet in the tube. You know, the type who is in and out of juvie. He spoke cockney to his skateboard bluds, played handheld consoles with them, doing skateboard tricks on concrete where he could've easily broken his neck if he fell. He didn't look or act any different from one of those dumb teenagers with too much time on their hands.

"The next day, he went to his morning university classes, then right back to work and was busy making Saiko Colgomerate's negotiators sob over a licensing deal by the afternoon. Then he took half the office to a football game that same night. He bumped into a couple of his skateboard pals again and disappeared halfway through the game. We thought he got kidnapped but he showed up to a strategy meeting bright and early the next day."

The boss man took that in thoughtfully but said nothing.

William guessed it was to be expected. It's only been a few weeks since the late Mr. Psi perished in that office fire and any talk of the late Mr. Psi must be hurtful.

"So, what was your brother trying to do in these journals?" asked William. "This seemed pretty complicated for your ordinary diaries."

Before the boss man could respond, another person walked by and, this time did not even bother to wait before entering the office.

It was Doctor Andrew Wiles, the skeletal university professor who happened to sit on the Board of Directors. Doctor Wiles had endorsed the formal acceptance and reaffirmation of Kenneth Psi as the new Chairman of Psi Industries a few weeks back. Andrew shuffled a bit, seemingly galumphing. He wore large square glasses, the usual long-sleeved white collard shirt, a vest, slack, and leather shoes. "William Conrad. Are you being impertinent?"

"Of course not, Dr. Wiles," said William easily. He did work directly for the aged professor. "I'm getting a rare peek at the late Mr. Psi's work from back when he was twelve years old. You know, before he came here."

Andrew's interest was piqued and he approached the desk, completely ignoring the minor twitch of the boss man's lips that indicated that the boss man did not welcome the intrusion. With that similar invasive familiarity, Andrew turned the notebook toward himself and began flipping.

Meanwhile, William continued to be himself, which was run his mouth with endless questions. "So back to my original question, Mr. Psi. What was your brother trying to do in these journals? It seemed something to do with electrical impulses."

There was a brief moment of silence as the boss man seemed to struggle to find the right words. "It was for a personal medical device."

"To do what?" inquired William further.

The boss's expression never changed. "To keep me alive."

William's expression blanched at the naked term. He ended up smiling hesitantly. "Oh...I get it. That's what all medical devices do. To keep people alive. Clever. Wait. To keep you alive?"

There was a shrug. "Amongst other things," the boss man added.

William stared at the boss man incredulously.

"I trust that you can keep that fact in confidence," said the boss man.

"Yes. Of course. But..." William trailed off. He looked at the boss man's unassuming posture, looking like any normal, healthy young adult. "you don't look sick."

"Not right now. My brother's device is working, for the moment." He looked to the notebook that Andrew was placidly flipping through. "If it breaks, I estimate it'll take about five days."

"Before what?"

The boss man gave another shrug. "My untimely end."

William stared at the boss man with a deep frown. How can someone this young bo so calm about dying? "And the late Mr. Psi didn't make spares for you?" asked William.

"He made plenty of spares for me. He gave me a box of them two months ago. It should have been enough to last me a lifetime," said the boss man, looking contemplative. "But they were accidentally destroyed. I only have two working sets and one set is old."

"Why don't you see another doctor?" William asked. "Surely there's got to be another medical professional who can check you out."

"It's...a very rare condition," revealed the boss man. "My brother already inquired and got so frustrated that he didn't bother pursuing that avenue. Replicating his work is the fastest way. I have done so, it's just not as effective and it has some significant... drawbacks. It's why I'm studying this now."

There was an uncomfortable pause before someone spoke up.

"Well, these are certainly doctoral thesis material," said Andrew after about five minutes of glancing over the notebook. "These are some very different takes on some classical approaches. Some of it is more direct. Some of it more roundabout." Andrew turned the notebook around so that the text was facing the boss man again. "I assume that these sections are your work."

The boss man blinked and nodded barely.

"I suspected as much," said Andrew. "Kuusuke usually took the unconventional routes in his reasoning to come to the same conclusion." Andrew pointed to a section that the boss man had previously indicated to be his contribution. "These particular sections are almost too clean, to the point, brute-forced. The logic flavor is too direct." Andrew seemed contemplative. "When did you come up with this?"

"About a decade ago," said the boss man. "The subject isn't beyond me. I just haven't the desire or motivation to study this topic before"

"And now, you're very much motivated to do so," muttered William.

Andrew, the skeletal professor, seemed contemplative. "Do you know what Kuusuke studied while he was at my alma mater, Cambridge University"

The boss man shook his head.

"Mathematics."

The boss man blinked and frowned at that, sitting further back in his chair. That seemed like an unexpected fact.

"Oh. People are always surprised whenever they hear that," said Andrew. "They always thought that he studied the sciences, chemistry, or one of the applied sciences like engineering, materials, organic chemistry, geology even botany, subjects that would allow a person to touch and feel the effects of nature.

"Mathematics seemed too much of an abstraction for an inventor and mathematic itself is a liberal arts degree. But it is exactly what is called for here." Andrew pointed to the notebook again. "What you have here is artwork, an attempt to flawlessly mimic the natural world. I see the backbone of the entire work resembles the Julia Set. Have you seen it?"

The boss man shook his head again.

"When you get the time, plot out the initial conjecture. It's unique," said Andrew.

The boss man seemed to take that recommendation, but his expression seemed ambivalent to the idea.

Andrew studied the boss man's body language and seemed to have come to a decision. "Come study under me," said Andrew. "I head the the world most respected mathematics program."

The boss man tilted his head, curious.

"I will pull some strings and get you into Oxford," said Andrew. "Once you're in, you should be able to access its resource and be with academicians who can challenge and further your understanding to bridge the logic gap in this work. As far as I can tell, your weakest subject area is number theory, which is one of Kuusuke's strongest subjects. That happens to be my specialty and of interest to several of my doctoral candidate. They'll be able to help you."

The boss man's lips twitched downward slightly, obviously unhappy of having a favor that he might not even want to be imposed upon him.

"Do not reject," said Andrew in that steady, nearly monotone dull professorial voice. "Consider it as a way for me to pay back a debt to him."

"Debt?" echoed the boss man.

"The details are not important," said Andrew. "But yes. I owe him several favors and all favors are debts that must be repaid. Since he is no longer around for me to repay that debt, helping you is the only repayment available."

At that reasoning, the boss man's expression seemed to soften.

"I should note that it's not completely an honest repayment," mentioned Andrew. "Kuusuke happened to think that you're even more intelligent than him. I think that you'll only further advance the prestige of Oxford, especially my department."

"Dr. Wiles, you're having the new owner of Psi Industries attend your classes," reminded William. "I think that's going to get everyone all giddy."

"I don't like attention," stated the boss man. "If I'm to attend, I don't want people to make a big deal out of it."

There seemed to be a brief stalemate before Andrew answered. "Duly noted."

With that, Andrew turned to leave the office. "Come along, William. You said something about a Scottish pint?"

Before William could respond, however, Andrew stopped in his tracks again. He turned back to the boss man. "I should also note that the admission office will want to see a high-school diploma within a year of acceptance. You're still a high schooler, are you not?"

At that question, the boss man made the slightest twitch of his eyebrows. "I withdrew. It was taking up too much time."

Andrew clicked his tongue. "Ah. Well, you could always obtain a general education degree, but the admission office typically likes to see a traditional high school degree. You'll also have to arrange to take and ace the A Levels (1). Near perfect academic record or academic test scores are expected for all prospective students at Oxford. Anything less would..."

"...bring attention," finished the boss man. "I know what you're saying. It's the details."

Andrew nodded. "I expect nothing less from Kuusuke's sibling."

With that, Andrew left the boss man's office, in that slow shuffle of an old ivory tower intellectual.

William, however, lingered. He waited until Andrew was out of an earshot to get in one last attempt. "You sure you don't want to come, Mr. Psi? You gotta let me make good at my offer for a round."

The boss man stared at him. "I'm not of legal age," said the boss man with a deadpan.

Again, William's jaw dropped for the second time that day. When he finally could think about what he heard, he immediately facepalmed. Seriously. He really was trying to get himself fired.

"Tsch. Nothing like that. Give it a month," the boss man offered as if telepathically hearing William's thoughts.

At that William grinned. "It's a date, boss man. I'll teach you to pick up chicks and all types of bloody awesome drinks!"

William turned on a heel, ready to go off to a party. Before he slid the office door open though, he heard something.

"Wait. Was..." the remainder of that sentence seemed to die in boss man's throat as the rest of the words were garbled, and sounded even...hallow?

"Pardon?" echoed William.

"Was my brother happy here?" asked the boss man, clearly, this time.

William seemed surprised by the question. He looked to the boss man, who seemed as flat as usual. "I supposed so. I mean, the late Mr. Psi never seemed to have a bad day. Even when he made some poor decisions that caused massive losses to Psi Industries, he was never upset about it. He smiled all the time. But I think it's more to put people at ease rather than a reflection of how he felt though."

The boss man seemed to consider that. "How can you tell?"

"Well...do you remember your parents taking a London vacation a while back?"

The boss man nodded.

"I happened to be there when he took them around the old test bunkers, where I worked at the time. That was the only time that he seemed to see people, you know."

The boss man blinked.

"I mean, you two might look very different," said William, "but your mannerisms are eerily similar. You two never seemed to be completely present. Even now, I get the feeling that you're looking right through me. The late Mr. Psi was like that all the time, except that one time he was taking your parents around. It was the only time he seemed like he was all there. Now that I think about it, I guess the bloke chooses to be happy, rather than having experience impact his opinion of life, you know." William scratched his head nervously. "I'm rambling now. Did I make any sense?"

The bosses snorted a bit as if he had just heard the most preposterous logic there ever was. His answer, though, was soft. "Yes."

"Seriously?! I'm relieved!" cheered William. "Err. What's the great revelation here?'

The boss man, however, seemed to have decided to dismiss the beared red-head. "I'll tell you another time."

"Okay," acknowledged William. He smiled when he casually noted the weather. "Whelp, looks like the rain had stopped! Time to party on! They have a live outdoor band!"

With that, William left the office building, blissfully unaware of the boss man's critical gaze at the sky.

Chapter Text

Risa gazed at the streams of people passing through from her vantage point on the third-floor sky bridge that overlooked the grand lobby of Keio University Hospital. She looked formidable, almost sinister, in her white lab coat, a dark gray, form-fitting pantsuit underneath, her blonde hair pulled up in a severe bun, exposing her window's peak hairline.

Doctors, nurses, administrators, technicians, mechanical support staff, patients, medical sales, visitors, contractors, filtered in through the entrance security check. Those who worked at the hospital, held their access card close to the card reader and quickly pass through the rotating three-pronged gates. Those who were not hospital employees went through a far more lengthy security check, along with a thorough search of the belongings, placing anything metal, even a belt buckle through an x-ray machine for inspection.

Immediately, Risa felt a disruption of the future in the form of a middle-aged auburn-haired man who just walked through the automatic front doors of the hospital. He had that nondescript, ordinary, everyday salaryman attire, with the collared shirt, pants, and jacket. He did look slightly haggard, with some stubbles on his chin and bags clearly underneath his eyes.

Risa did not need to be a psychic to know that her son, Kuniharu, had come to see her. He was a healthy man, with only common afflictions like myopia and the initial creaking of the joints from age. So he certainly did not come to a hospital to seek medical advice for himself.

It was an unusual visit, for sure. Risa compartmentalized her life and made sure others knew of it. For Kuniharu to violate the sanctity of her occupation, one that relied heavily on preception of dedication, temper and mystery to command the respect of her staff, it must be serious indeed.

The hospital is a hotbed of rumors and many were still curious as to her where she went on her vacation time a month ago, as gossip went wild from visiting a gentleman's club to secretly treating the prime minister of Japan. Here, no one knew that she had a family. In this strongly gender-biased society, a woman could only climb so high on a career ladder if she did not have a family to distract her from her job and therefore, her career.

Risa took a moment to check her personal cellphone, the device that she checked only during off times, not on working time.

Kuniharu did notify her, about an hour ago.

Well, family was family. And she owed her son for her decades of pettiness.

"You see that man there, Nuri-san?" said Risa to a male attending physician who was an aspiring hospital administrator and had become her unofficial personal assistant. He was in his thirties, with dark brown hair, a clear face, and bright brown eyes that set people at ease. "That is Saiki Kuniharu. Escort him to my office."

"Yes, Suzuki-sensei," said Nuri, turning on a heel, ready to bolt. The line was short enough that Nuri would have to run to catch the man before he disappears into the hallways of this massive hospital.

"Nuri-san," added Risa. "Cancel all my remaining appointments for the day."

Nuri nodded, though he frowned slightly. "I can, but, shouldn't you still see Saionji Kanemitsu for his three o'clock? His father specifically requested you to be on the treatment team, since you're the one who stabilized him, a rare feat for a crush injury."

Risa shook her head. "No. Give my regards to Saionji. Tell him that I must attend to a serious matter."

Nuri did not seem convinced.

"Are you going to make me repeat myself?" Risa said in her steady voice laced with a challenge.

Nuri immediately realized his mistake and shook his head in apology. "Of course not. I'll convey to him your regards."

---

Kuniharu was not a man easily given into serious nervousness.

Sure, lighthearted overreaction to put people at ease was a given. People gravitated toward those who wore their hearts on their sleeves, often with a sense of perverted pleasure. People needed to feel control, be it control over their lives or over others. Kuniharu sniveling manners enforced the sense of superiority in others, putting their guards down.

It was a reaction that Kuniharu exploited all his life. He was compensated relatively well for a job that generally did not need his skillset. The loss of his dignity, a thing that he placed little value, through shoe licking, was a small price to pay for the, until recently, a quiet, steady life in a small suburb of Hidari Wakibara.

Here, sitting in a large, modern physician's office at the prestigious Keio University Hospital where his mother, Risa, was the chief of medicine, made Kuniharu feel small.

In a way, Kuniharu felt like an incredible disappointment in terms of the modern career accomplishments. He never wanted the executive management positions, or aspired to be some type of recognized professional in science, math, or business. He never aspired to make so much money as to afford exotic vacations and fancy sports cars beyond his usual toy models.

Kuniharu always had the opinion that recognized occupational success would be traded for a divorce at best, suicide at worst. Their culture where people lived to work never made much sense to him. He was happy with his wife and children and all its domesticity. Even if his children outright disrespected him and he was easily bossed around by his wife, he did not doubt that they all loved him. What did the good opinion of stranger matter?

And now that comfortable domesticity was ruined by the loss of one of their family member.

Kuusuke's passing just did not seem real. It did not seem real even now. There was no funeral. There was not a body. In the past, Kuusuke had disappeared for longer than this recent bout of silence. The only shreds of evidence that Kuusuke was gone were how all of Kuusuke's fortunes and possession were formally transferred and Kusuo's recent behavior change.

Kusuo disappeared regularly now, from what Kuniharu could tell, handling Kuusuke's extensive possessions. The exact nature and totality of Kuusuke's possessions were not clear to Kuniharu. Once the attorneys found out that Kuusuke willed everything to Kusuo, they immediately shut Kuniharu off from the discussions.

There were much bigger problems at the moment. Not just the fact that his family was hurting emotionally, but now, Kusuo, their only remaining son, had a proverbial guillotine hanging over him.

Kurumi broke down completely. She was unresponsive to the gentle prodding of family. And when Kuniharu suggested that she needed to seek help, be on medication, she fought him instead. There were other reasons, of course, but that was the primary issue. Then she became despondent.

All of it became too much. This was why Kuniharu had initially buried himself in work, to temporarily escape. The mind cannot wallow if it was kept busy. Care for self first, then care for others. Mitigate the threat. Resilience was not something that simple determination could achieve. If his family loved him, then they would understand and be patient.

And how, Kuniharu felt that he could go back to doing more, to close up the loose ends and openly discuss the many unsaid things. He had to approach the topics delicately, which was why he was here. To humbly seek the opinion and help of his recently no-so estranged mother Risa. Of their small extended family, she was second only to Kuusuke in capability, at least in Kuniharu's estimation. Kuniharu knew that he could trust her opinion.

The first thing that Risa did once she entered the office was to shut all the blinds on the windows. Personal issues should never mix with work and she was not taking chances of people overseeing the exact nature of their interaction. Kuniharu was simply a new patient that she wanted a one-on-one interaction with due to a delicate matter.

After that, then she warmly greeted Kuniharu with a hug.

"What's going on?" asked Risa, seemingly staring through him. It was a look that Kuniharu knew well and was one of the reasons why his children's behaviors never bothered him. His children took after his mother's side of the family.

They were seated on the couch in Risa's office. Her office had that odd combination of a modernist look mixed with a psychologist's therapy room. All glass, black and gray furniture, with the only softness in the minimalist ikebana flower display on her desk and the faux suede sofa.

Instead of sitting in her imposing leather chair, she joined him on the faux suede sofa. She handed him a bottled water which he accepted.

"Do you really have to ask?" said Kuniharu with a hint of wariness. Risa was a psychic and such knowledge was as jarring as hearing Kusuo's actual voice.

"I do," confirmed Risa. "Thoughts are gray, unorganized, indecisive, and directionless. Perception becomes reality, whether it is true or not. The spoken words reaffirm the perception and thus the reality. It's a hubris of telepathic psychics to assume people's inner thoughts are reflections of the truth."

It was an unexpected lecture, one that Kuniharu suspected that was directed not really to him, but for Risa's grandson, almost so that Kuniharu could look out for Kusuo on her behalf.

"What of the times that I lied?" asked Kuniharu, thinking back to the earlier time when he regularly interacted with his mother. The childish lies where he ate the brownie that he later learned that he wasn't supposed to eat. "Did you always know?"

"Only if you thought it was wrong," said Risa "and your opinion often differ from most."

"So I have loose morals?" inferred Kuniharu blandly.

"I wouldn't say that you have loose morals. You simply think differently," said Risa vaguely.

"You have a specific example?" Kuniharu pressed.

"You are spineless," said Risa without missing a beat, "but you don't seem to place value in besting others. People characterize it as a lack of ambition, a sense of shamelessness. But truthfully, you simply don't bother with hate. Petty jealousy maybe, but never honest hate."

Kuniharu stared at Risa's razor-sharp assessment. It was never a wonder to him why she could reach such heights in her career. She must have easily understood human nature and used it to advance the career hierarchy.

Risa gave a wane smile. "But you're no here to talk about that. What's on your mind?"

Kuniharu looked to his bag, pulled out a gray folder and handed it to Risa. "This is something I want your opinion about."

Risa took the folder and opened it.

It was a file folder from the maternity ward at Ikkoku Yama Rural Hospital. She opened the file folder and came upon a small stack of papers, stapled and bounded with a binder clip. The name on the top page was noted as "Saiki-Boy A."

Risa opened the file and her eyes began to dart left to right, from up to down, quickly absorbing the contents. With her well-practiced physician training, there was no change in expression as she mutely read and assessed the information presented before her.

"You know, since Kuusuke's..." Kuniharu paused. He wrung his hands as Risa read. It was too painful to say the exact words without tearing up. "...thing, I thought maybe I should tell Kusuo about the truth about Kuusuke's health."

Like an impeccable professional, Risa kept on reading the document, mentally assessing the information before her while speaking. "Will it benefit Kusuo-kun's understanding?" she inquired.

"I don't know," said Kuniharu honestly. "It's why I'm here, for a second opinion. I thought that maybe he'd find closure in it, like how I felt when you said...you know...with my...um..."

Risa knew the delicateness of what Kuniharu wanted to ask and why he specifically asked her. "You mean, Kasei?"

Kuniharu nodded. "Why didn't you tell me until recently?" It had been a question he had wanted to ask ever since the day she spoke of that sibling he never knew.

"The knowledge was not beneficial to you," said Risa simply as she kept on reading through the file placidly. Her flat expression only changed slightly when she came to the second set of stapled much thinner set of bound paper for a "Saiki-Boy B."

"The human mind is insidious in its self-feedback," Risa continued as she began to skim the contents of the second document. "It'd give you a sense of sadness, a grief for someone you never knew, when it absolutely shouldn't."

"But I would've understood why you and father were so preoccupied with work all the time," said Kuniharu, exhibiting a rare instance of hurt. "I would've been a better son. I would've not allowed the estrangement. I could've gotten Kurumi to understand. I..."

Risa took a brief pause from reviewing the paperwork before her as she placed a hand on Kuniharu's shoulder, silencing him.

"Would've. Could've. Should've and all its permutations," said Risa. "You should stop. It's useless."

Kuniharu didn't seem convinced. "But the dreams of what Kasei could had been must be inescapable," Kuniharu reasoned. "Hell, even I'm doing it now. I worked, I avoided my home, I threw all my responsibilities to Kusuo like a coward. So I can avoid thinking about Kuusuke and all that he could be, even though he lived far longer than my expectations."

"Hence why I've said that it would've added nothing and why I deliberately never mentioned Kasei until the knowledge was useful. It reinforced Kusuo's understanding of the dangers of flashover," said Risa, her expression never changed as she went back to casually flipped the pages back to the very beginning. "If you knew, you begin to fantasize what could never be and not move on," Risa closed the file. "And from the looks of this, you already understood why I didn't say something for the longest time."

"I still felt closure when you finally told me about Kasei, though," said Kuniharu.

"Now. Yes. But as his mother, the pain never fully goes away. It's not an easy thing to speak of," said Risa. "While you may feel closure. I never could, not when I know, now, that flashover is possible to overcome."

Kuniharu had nothing to say to that.

Risa now closed the file and it on her lap now, palms flat on it. "You know, after seeing this, I finally understand why you could be so calm when Kusuo finally told you what was on his mind. You had been expecting it for some time. Kurumi held onto hope that Kuusuke was never impacted and you've always played along out of love for her."

Risa reached over and held Kuniharu.

It felt awkward and comforting at the same time.

Kuniharu took a shuddering breath and his eyes turned misty, but he ended up with a sigh and seemed only tired.

When they broke apart, Risa's exterior coolness seemed to have warmed in sympathy.

"Did you ever name Kuusuke's twin?" asked Risa gently.

Kuniharu shook his head. "No." His voice had dropped to a shaking, hoarse whisper. "He never breathed."

"That is wise," said Risa with a sagacious evenness. "It's a needless emotional investment." Then, Risa seemed contemplative. "What does Kurumi know?"

"She doesn't," he confessed as he shook his head. "She never even held him."

Risa, ever the professional, seemed unaffected by the odd answer. "She never suspected?"

"It was a rural hospital," said Kuniharu as if that explained it all. "The ultrasound tech didn't even get the count right. The doctors are even more incompetent. Her parents wouldn't listen to me when I said I want to take her to a city hospital. Her father forbade her to ride the bus and the train because 'the baby will fall out.'" There was a rare look of contempt on Kuniharu's face. "And you know how Kurumi is. How she can be mind-numbingly unaware. If she knew and understood why it happened, it would've crushed her."

"The medication that she took to mitigate her illness," said Risa knowingly. "She stopped too late."

Kuniharu only gave a nod for agreement. "And after Kuusuke was born, she suddenly became fine without it. I never thought much of it because things like that happen, with hormones and body adjustments. Kuusuke and Kusuo both adored and loved her like any normal children. She was never depressed again. She was normal, cheerful, dorky, genuine and everything that I fell in love with."

"But she was also the reason why you wanted Kuusuke to be tested," said Risa. "The condition is highly influenced by genetics."

"Yeah. A great idea that was," said Kuniharu sarcastically. "Confirmed and even worse. And now, I am not sure if what they've diagnosed was correct, in light of what Kusuo had figured out."

The mother and son pair fell into silence briefly.

"Kuniharu, did you always knew that Kuusuke had some sort of psychic power?" asked Risa.

There was silence as Kuniharu mulled over the question. "Deep down, I always knew something was up. It was just simpler to explain it away by saying how smart Kuusuke was."

Risa tilted her head. "How so?"

"I remember when Kuusuke was learning how to ride a bicycle and Kusuo was probably being a showoff and rode a motorcycle around for a few minutes and Kurumi had to yell at Kusuo to stop. No one else saw that. There was no report in the newspaper. Nothing on the internet. How can that be? We were at a public park on a Sunday morning!

"With Kusuo, it's always the addition of something. But with Kuusuke, it's so much harder to notice, because it's always been the absence of something. Kusuo can create fire in his hands. Kuusuke was never burned by fire, not even by the stove until...." Kuniharu stopped. All the recollection for the day had become too painful to discuss.

But not for Risa, who had sufficient distance to her grandchildren and daughter-in-law. She could easily parse the details and come to an objective solution.

"Perhaps that's why Kuusuke lived longer than you expected," theorized Risa. "If the information in these files were to be believed, then perhaps the reason why he never exhibited physical manifestations of ESP was that he used his abilities to sustain his body."

Kuniharu touched his chin in thought and revelation. "Yes...That certainly is a possibility. Do you think Kusuo will find consolation in that?"

At that, Risa seemed to have decided something.

Wordlessly, she took the file in her hand and walked over to her desk. She pulled out a paper shredder and before Kuniharu could object, she began to feed the documents into the paper shredder in half dozens of sheets.

"What are you doing!?" cried Kuniharu. He ran over, spanning the distance of 5 meters in a fraction of a second, pressing the off button. His arm swung at her and snatched the file away.

Risa mutely stared at Kuniharu, who was now squatted below her, frantically trying to figure out where the reverse button was on the machine.

"Shred the papers," said Risa.

"Why? Kusuo has a right to know," said Kuniharu, momentarily freaked out for two seconds as he found a button, but it only further shredded the paper. "He will want to know."

"I understand that," said Risa. "We all want to equip our children with all the information they need. But this? This information, the details of it, will only bring unnecessary pain and hardship. This is not what Kusuo-kun, your only remaining child, needs to know. He doesn't need to know that he had brothers. He doesn't need to know that he had unknowingly squandered whatever additional time Kuusuke was able to eke out of his failing body. He certainly doesn't need to know that the mother he loves had caused it. I've spoken with him at length when he came to me for advice on how to handle Kurumi. He is very strong, with inexplicable resilience, but he is at his breaking point of what he could tolerate."

"Kusuo is a telepathic psychic," Kuniharu reminded Risa. "He's going to know that I'm hiding something."

Risa shook her head. "The hubris of the telepathic psychic. He hears surface thoughts, after the mind has already interpreted the ideas. He wouldn't have thought he missed something. You know this truth this for so long, yet Kusuo never picked up on it. He isn't going to start now." Risa placed a hand on Kuniharu's shoulder. "Yes. Kusuo will want to know and he has a right to know. But later, when he isn't so preoccupied with figuring out how to recreate those limiter devices."

"You really think Kusuo can remake those hairpins?" asked Kuniharu. There was fear in his voice.

"I know he can. He maybe a little spoiled and more than a little lazy, but he is a remarkable, stubborn young man. Pride, if not drive to live, will make him succeed," said Risa with utmost confidence. "You can tell him then. For now, this is not something he needs to know."

Risa pressed the "on" button on the paper shredder. She gently pulled the file out of Kuniharu's hands and began to feed the document sheets into the paper shredder again.

This time, Kuniharu did not stop her.

Chapter Text

Kaidou Aoi missed her friend Saiki Kurumi.

Ever since the night that Aoi had bumped into Kurumi at the grocery store well over a month ago, Aoi had not seen the woman.

Then Kurumi was absent at the bi-weekly neighborhood association meeting.

That was odd. Kurumi was known to be a regular presence at the neighborhood association meetings that Aoi ran. Kurumi was that normal stay-at-home, involved with society type of mom who celebrated every holiday, dedicated to making her home a sanctuary for her husband and children, making delicious meals, always has a happy, cheerful smile, wholesome type of woman.

Out of usual human decency and concern for a friend, Aoi texted and called Kurumi.

The text was simple, saying how Aoi missed Kurumi and was looking forward to seeing her at the next meeting to discuss the next major contentious thing in the neighborhood, the grit that needs to be cleaned out of the storm sewer. The recent unusually prolonged rain event had revealed some areas where storm water was not draining fast enough, and had caused on road accidents and water encroaching into homes.

Aoi also called. Oddly enough, Kurumi didn't pick up like she usually would, or called back either. In chatting with Nendou Midori and Kuboyasu Yoko, neither had heard from her.

In a passing comment with her son, Shun, he indicated that no one had seen Kurumi's boy, Saiki Kusuo, at school for weeks.

Then Shun came home one day, after loitering with his friends, no doubt, with a disturbed look on his face.

"Mom, do you know if the Saikis moved away?" Shun had asked.

Aoi, who was busy at the stove, trying not to overcook the pork at the time, said distractedly, "No. Not to my knowledge." By then, Aoi had noted Kurumi's absence, but it wasn't long enough to be unusual. Kurumi could be taking a vacation. Getting toward middle age had that effect on people. Plus, Kurumi only had two boys, and her younger son, Kusuo was at an age where he could be left home alone for days at a time.

Shun heard her answer, obvious disappointment on his face. He muttered something about Knights of Judgement or whatever and slunk away to his room.

Aoi resisted the urge to ask after him, to remind him to study and not spend time needlessly playing on the computer. That night at the grocery store did make an impression on Aoi. She and her husband, Yoshimoru, had a long nighttime discussion where he put the whole thing into perspective.

Shun was a young man, now. Come October this year, Shun would be able to help the country pick a prime minister and if the circumstances warranted, be called upon to help protect Japan. He was no longer a little boy who was always the smallest in his class and always getting picked on. Shun had made friends now, good friends, who ultimately did the right thing and brought him home, despite Shun's declaration to run away. Whom Shun befriended demonstrated Shun's capacity to differentiate good from bad character. The Kaidou family was lucky that Shun did not decide to befriend a delinquent or one of those biker gang punks.

Yoshimoru stressed further that if Shun did not know right from wrong by now, then no amount of control that Aoi exerted was going to change Shun. Aoi had raised Shun well as evidenced by his grades. Aoi should trust Shun to make good decisions.

After that talk, Aoi backed off very much. Pride and hurt feelings had prevented her from telling Shun exactly how she felt, apologize even less. She still got in the occasional " go study!" and scheduled his cram school sessions since the finals of the first term were coming. Otherwise, she had not berated him over his choice of friends, or given extended nagging about how he needed to work harder.

Shun seemed to understand though. He had not directly challenged and disobeyed her in such a manner since then. Aoi had not done anything to warrant such a reaction. He dutifully attended his cram school sessions without complaint and even opened up to her about the fact that he has female friends in this primary friend group of a dozen or so. Aoi had a chance to meet them when his friends were over to plan a party for one of their school friends. That Teruhashi girl seemed quite charming. Yumehara seemed like a normal ordinary girl who wasn't prone to trouble. That Mera though...she was a little too well developed for Aoi's tastes.

Well, as long as it was not girlfriends, then Aoi could live with that. Shun had too bright of a future ahead of him to be muddling his brain with such relationship nonsense.

On that same night when Shun asked about whether the Saiki family moved or not, Aoi offhandedly inquired why he asked such a question.

By then, they were all sitting at the dinner table, sans Aoi's husband who was traveling for work.

"Oh. Saiki Kusuo withdrew from school," said Shun listlessly. He seemed honestly upset by the fact. "I haven't been able to contact him since that one time two weeks ago. He hasn't responded to any texts or calls. Nendo said that his next-door neighbor saw him but haven't talked to him. Since you talk to his mom, I thought maybe you knew if they moved, or were going to move away."

Aoi gave Shun a queer look.

That was certainly unexpected news.

In their society, most people did not just uproot their family and move elsewhere. Even if the breadwinner of the family had to move because of a job, the spouse and children would've stayed the remaining year so that if school transfers were contemplated, it would occur between grades, not during the middle of the school year. Plus, with a child in their last year of high school, there was a heightened sense of forced stability so that nothing could disturb the all-important march toward the College Entrance Exams.

"No. I haven't seen Saiki Kurumi," said Aoi presently to Shun. "I'll ask the next time I see her."

Oddly enough, Shun looked appreciative and relieved. "Oh. That's good. I am concerned since he didn't look too hot the last time I saw him. I hope it's not one of those, he's actually super sick, sort of thing. He's the only guy I know who had ever fainted, you know, back during sports festival in second year." Shun looked down at his pork chops. He seemed to have realized something. "He used to miss school a lot because of doctor visits."

"Oh yeah?" followed Aoi her attention elsewhere.

Toki started playing with his food. Peas in fact.

Little boys needed to be constantly occupied. Aoi should've known this.

Shun beat her to it. "Toki. If you eat like a proper gentleman, Onii-san will take you to the store get you a carton of chocolate milk."

Of course, for some reason, younger children tend to obey their older siblings better than their parents. The idea of chocolate milk at the end also helped. Toki immediately stopped trying to use his spoon as a pretend catapult for his peas and picked up a pair of chopsticks. He went back to scarfing down his rice as fast and as delicately as a third-grader could.

Sora, who sat to mom's right side, looked upon Shun and Toki with that profound critical expression reminiscent of their mother's usual default. "Nii-san, if you keep on feeding Toki those sweetened dairy drinks, you're going to make Toki fat."

"Nuh-uh!" Toki bit back. "Just because Nee-chan is getting fat in the chest because she keeps on drinking milk tea doesn't mean I'm going to get fat too."

Sora's face reddened immediately. "You dumb little squirt. I'm not getting fat in the chest because I drink milk tea."

Shun was positively not helping as he busted in laughter. "But Sora, it's technically mostly fat there."

If looks could incinerate, Shun would've already burned to a crisp. Sora stood up, ready to beat her shorter-than-average older brother into submission.

Before an open war could happen, Aoi stepped in. "Okay! No more talking! Shun apologize to your younger sister. Sora. You accept your older brother's apology. And mean it before I make you two hug it out."

The threat of forced gross touching between two self-effacing teenagers was enough to make Shun mumble a half-hearted apology to Sora and Sora begrudgingly accepted such apology.

Dinner proceeded again, this time, with Shun keeping Toki occupied by whatever fantasy stories that Shun liked to tell Toki. Toki listened, with rapt attention while munching on his food. Toki then told Shun all about what his friend Shinji and Haruki thought of a particular girl in their class and all the cooties she had.

Aoi chatted with Sora about her plans in getting into Todai and hair care tricks. Sora was nodding in approval as her mother suggested taking extra collagen to help hair growth.

Eventually, dinner ended, and Shun ended up helping mom with cleaning the table. Normally, it was Sora's job. But Sora had cram school, Toki was too young to do dishes well and it was an off cram school day for Shun.

Aoi would rather Shun helped anyways. He would need whatever training she could provide since, if all goes well, he would be in college by this time next year. Aoi was not going to send her son off without him knowing how to do dishes properly.

They somehow ended up talking about Kurumi's boy again.

"Yeah, it was weird," said Shun to Aoi at some point, mindlessly drying the dishes. "Kusuo apparently gets really bad fevers back in elementary school and missed a lot of school days back then." Shun looked at the cloths he was using the wipe the dishes dry. "You know, mom, if you just leave them out on the drying rack, they'll naturally dry on their own."

Normally, Aoi would had responded with "just do as I say." But Aoi wasn't paying attention. She thought back on the night that she drove Kusuo back to the Saiki home, after Saiki brought Shun back home.

----

Aoi had to drive particularly slowly that night because by the time she started driving, a misty rain began.

These light rains were the worst since they made the roads just slick enough to hydroplane, the windshields just wet enough to smear dust on the windshield and cause terrible glare. As much as Aoi wanted to get home soon and finally have that family dinner she wanted, she needed to make sure she actually got to her destination and back safely.

"Do what you like with the radio and the air conditioning," said Aoi to Kusuo right after they into the car. It was somewhat unusually hot in the car. Probably because of climate change or whatnot, causing the ambient temperature to be higher than normal.

Aoi drove extra slowly due to the conditions and how she was shuttling one of her friend's precious boy, which made time for idle talk with Kusuo who sat in the front passenger seat.

"I've texted your mother before we left to let her know that I'm bringing you back," said Aoi without much ceremony.

Kusuo remained silent, looking straight ahead, hands held together.

"You shouldn't sneak out," said Aoi, fully in her lecture mode. Mom friends look out for mom friends' children. It was a fact of life. "You'd worry your parents."

Kusuo looked out the window instead, as if he didn't hear her.

Aoi frowned then. She did not recall Kusuo being this disrespectful. For all of Kurumi's professed hands-off parental habits, Kurumi seemed to have at least drilled the foundational and charming Japanese politeness into her children. Aoi's interaction with her Kurumi's two boys indicated as such.

"Well, thanks for bringing Shun back," said Aoi, almost begrudgingly, to distract her from her growing irritation at Kusuo's attitude. "He's lucky to have you as a friend."

Not even a modest, 'it's not a big deal.'

It was then that Aoi remembered that Shun and 'the guys' had wanted to visit Kusuo tomorrow and inquired Kurumi for permission.

Kurumi had explicitly told Shun 'no' and that 'he needs rest.' Something about the stomach flu? From the conversation earlier it seemed like it was serious enough for Kusuo to miss several days of school. Aoi did not examine Kurumi's boy too much when he brought Shun back, her focus on making sure that she doesn't break down in tears of relief. Now, from the corner of her eyes, his complexion was notably ashen and his posture drawn in.

"Are you feeling okay, Kusuo-kun?"

Aoi almost thought that she wasn't going to get a single word out of him until he uttered one word.

"No."

The "mom' in Aoi automatically kicked in as she unconsciously drove slightly faster, despite how now the thicker clouds had moved in, transforming the droplet of the light misty rain to the globules of a summertime rain shower.

"You'll be home soon," said Aoi placatingly.

Within a couple of minutes, they were at the front door of the Saiki family home. The lights were not on. Everything was deathly still. It did not seem like anyone waited up for Kusuo.

Well, it was probably a good thing. No doubt that Kusuo's parents would be upset to know that their son snuck out and would likely give him a stern talking to and maybe punishment once they find out. Not that Aoi wanted to get Kusuo in trouble; she was simply looking out for her friend Kurumi and by extension, Kurumi's children.

Though it was a small distance between the car and the Saiki family home's front door, Aoi's automatically fished around the backseat for the umbrella that she always kept in the seat pocket behind the passenger side. She pulled the small black umbrella out and held it in front of Kusuo.

"Take this," Aoi commanded per habit. She was already busy digging into her purse for her phone so she could notify her family that she was on her way back, her mind already preoccupied with the discussion with her husband about Shun's behavior and ways to mitigate his rebelliousness.

When the weight of the umbrella in her hand didn't change, Aoi looked over.

Kusuo looked straight ahead. He seemed to have spaced out.

Concerned, Aoi reached over to put a hand on Kusuo's shoulder.

Aoi yelped and withdrew her hand quickly. Damn, that was hot!

"Kusuo-kun! You're burning up!" exclaimed Aoi. It was then that she noticed that he was in winter clothes, instead of summer clothes like a normal person.

Kusuo didn't look at her. Kusuo fussed with something small in his hand and tilted his head in a gesture reminiscent of someone putting on a hairband or something. Whatever it was, he didn't look any different from how he looked before. "Sorry about that," he muttered.

Somewhere in the back of Aoi's mind, she noticed that there was something drastically different about Kusuo's voice. However, her maternal instincts to immediately mitigate illness in children completely bowled over that note. "Kusuo-kun. Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Kusuo shook his head. "No. I'm always like this." He seemed lost in thought. "Come to think of it, my older brother and I had always been like this."

"Like what?"

"Burning up," said Kusuo, looking at his hands. "Ani....even in the summertime, he almost never wore short sleeves. He always wore layers. He only ever rolled up the sleeves. He's been doing this for as long as I remember." He began to shake his head, eyes closed. "It was right in front of me and I've never noticed."

The conversation train had turned strange, but Aoi didn't let it bother her. It was pretty late, after all.

Luckily, Kusuo seemed to note this and took the umbrella gratefully. He got out of the car, closed the car door, gave Aoi a well-practiced bow to demonstrate respect and thankfulness.

Aoi waved and began to drive away. Normally, she would have waited to see if the boy went into the house. However, Aoi had the impression that Kusuo was a responsible young man, since he did bring Shun back. Aoi assumed that Kusuo would go inside the house, probably get scolded a bit, before being hurried to bed.

As she was about to turn the corner, she quickly checked the rearview mirror to see if Kusuo had gone in.

By that time, the heavy rain that had so plagued the town almost a week ago had returned, completely obscuring the view of Saiki's house. Aoi never did end up seeing if Kusuo went back inside the house.

---

Contrasted to the last time that Aoi was at Kurumi's house, which was close to a month later, it was an overcast day.

Aoi was prepared. She brought an almond sponge cake with strawberry topping and a separate case of persimmons as gifts. Though Kurumi never responded to Aoi's calls and text, Aoi felt that she needed to take it upon herself to check in on the woman invited or not.

Since Aoi had time, with her children all in school and likely be doing afterschool activities with their friends, her work demands all squared away, dinner preparation won't be for another three hours, Aoi had the time to walk over to Kurumi's house instead. It was a good brisk fifteen-minute walk. The added weight of the cake and persimmons felt like a good light exercise. She already had her dinner plans in place so she would be visiting the grocery store after a polite 1-hour visit.

Aoi didn't have many expectations but she felt that Kurumi needed a friend right about now. With her well-practiced politician-like posture and of the need to compete in business, Aoi pressed the intercom call button on the wall next to the Saiki family home gate.

Chapter Text

The intercom speaker at the Saiki's front house gate clicked, an indication that someone picked up on the other side, but nothing was said.

For a brief moment, Aoi was slightly unsure of herself. General courtesy dictated that she should not come over uninvited and Aoi did like Kurumi as a friend and wanted Kurumi's good opinion; this unannounced visit could be seen as impolite.

Kurumi's absence, though, had been felt deeply within the mom group. The mom's cafe breaks and neighborhood meetings just did not have this happy wholesome spunk anymore. What if something happened to her?

"Greetings. This is Kaidou Aoi. Is Saiki Kurumi home?" said Aoi into the intercom, "I'm here for a neighborly visit."

There was no response, but the front gate clicked, an indication that someone was letting her in.

A little bit peeved by the lack of vocal greeting as a courtesy, Aoi opened the front gate and walked to the door. She pressed on the secondary doorbell and heard it go off from the outside.

Surprisingly, it was Kusuo who came to the door.

That was strange. School was in still session for the day. Did Kusuo turn into one of those hikikomori? A shut-in? He certainly looked like one, still in sweat pants and sweaters. It was like he didn't even change his clothes since the last time Aoi saw him more than a month ago when Shun made that public stunt.

That couldn't be it. If he did become a shut-in, then he would not have answered the door.

Looked like Shun wasn't dramatizing the truth when he said that Saiki Kusuo withdrew from school. That, or he skipped school.

And did he...get taller?

Aoi had to tilt her head upwards to briefly meet his eyes that were perpetually hidden behind green shades, whereas he used to be more eye level. Kusuo had been by the Kaidou family home enough times as a member of Shun's four-boys friend group for her to unconsciously feel the difference.

There was a almost gaunt leaness about him, too; it was likely an optical illusion since he did get taller.

Children had a habit of growing horizontal, getting a little chubby, before growing vertical.

"Well, hello Kusuo-kun. I hope today finds you well," greeted Aoi pleasantly, her deeply ingrained politeness surfacing. "Is your mother home?"

Kusuo gave her a curt nod. "Yes. Please come in, Kaidou-san" he said briefly, looking somewhat preoccupied.

Aoi followed Kusuo into the house.

This was not the first time Aoi had been at the Saiki-home. She had briefly came inside for a few minutes, for whatever Kurumi had forgotten at the house in one of those 'mom's break time' sessions. The house was just as Aoi remembered, but with an air of disinfectants, like a hospital during the graveyard shift.

Something was missing. An absence. Something that Aoi could not quite ascertain.

Kusuo took Aoi's visitation gifts and set them on the kitchen countertop. He directed Aoi to the dining room table and asked her to take a seat.

It was then that Aoi noted Kusuo's behavior and observed it to be oddly wary, mechanical, and rote. He said the bare minimum of words to be solicitous and polite, but not welcoming.

Aoi brushed it off as an inexperienced young man, not used to the task of hosting.

Aoi would have to tell Kurumi of her observations as a note of improvement. Kusuo was not on par with Shun in hosting skills. A proper young man should know how to put his house guests at ease. It was a mother's job to teach etiquette to her children and notable flaws were a reflection of a mother's poor instructions.

Kurumi would appreciate Aoi's advice. Hands-off style of parenting or not, proper etiquette was as foundational to their identity as being the people of the Land of the Rising Sun.

Kusuo did know how to set the table for serving snacks and light refreshments.

Very quickly, delicate little china cups, saucers, spoons, sugar squares in serving glasses, and whatnots were set out. In addition to serving the almond sponge cake that Aoi brought, he also put out variety packets of tea bags and digestive biscuits. He peeled and cut two persimmons into bitesize pieces and placed them on a dish. To add color to the fruits so to make them appetizing, he added purple grapes and cut pears. He didn't say anything during the preparation.

Aoi had known Kusuo to be reticent, but this felt off. There wasn't that usual air of the mildly annoyed omnipotent teenager who was terribly inconvenienced by something as boring as spending time with their parent's friends. God knew how much Aoi understood that, having to raise Shun and his habit of fantasy story writing and the ambitious Sora who had yet to meet with complete academic rejection. Toki was an overly capable third-grader who was slowly drifting to that age of know-it-all little squirts.

"Let me go wake my mom up," said Kusuo once he had set the table with serving dishes and plates.

"Oh no, don't do that," said Aoi immediately. She mentally berated herself. No wonder Kusuo had been muted this entire time and Kurumi was nowhere to be seen. He was being considerate of his mother by keeping his voice volume down. Aoi reached for her purse, already getting up. "Don't wake her up from her afternoon nap on my behalf, Kusuo-kun. You should've told me. I'll come back another time."

Kusuo shook his head. "No. Stay. My mother has..." there was a pause, "...been sleeping too much. Seeing people would be good for her."

The words were strangely demanding, with a hint of something that Aoi could not pinpoint. She did retract her hands from her purse.

"I'll be back," Kusuo muttered before going up the stairs, leaving Aoi by herself.

There was utter silence in the house for a few moments, except for the mild, quiet hum of the refrigerator. There were a few steps that could be heard, and some unintelligible, muffled talk from Kurumi, but otherwise, it was deathly quiet.

Soon enough, Kurumi came downstairs, seemingly with Kusuo's help.

"Hi, Aoi-san," said Kurumi torpidly.

Aoi had to stare.

Kurumi's hair was sticking out at odd angles. She seemed thinner somehow, to Aoi's brief reactionary jealousy that quickly evolved into concern. Kurumi's eyes seemed to be sunken in. The usual rosiness to her cheeks was absent. Her wrist seemed thin enough to spontaneously snap. Her usual characteristic cheer was a ghost of its former self.

Kurumi seemed to notice Aoi's reaction. It was painfully obvious to Aoi that Kurumi was forcing a smile on her face. "Let me go freshen up a bit," she said, her voice cracked from disuse. "Please excuse me for a few minutes."

Aoi watched Kurumi walked by and into the corridor into the bathroom. Soon, the ventilation fan of the bathroom was turned on. There was the sound of a runny faucet and splashing of water.

The situation left Aoi and Kusuo alone again.

Aoi stared at Kusuo now, noticing how his usually distant, cool expression had taken on mild concern at the corridor where Kurumi had disappeared into. He stared at that corridor for a good while, as if he could see through the walls. His arms were crossed.

"Kusuo-kun, what happened?" asked Aoi, a frown on her face. Any idiot could see that something occurred to her friend Kurumi.

"I'm not sure," said Kusuo, his gaze unflinching, though he absently fidgeted with a ring on his finger.

Aoi frowned. That did not seem like the Kusuo she knew. Kusuo always struck her as one of those arrogant, confident know-it-all teenagers. "What do you mean?"

"She was getting back to routine," Kusuo was saying, more to himself than to Aoi. "But she's sleeping more and barely has any appetite." Kusuo shook his head, breaking his unblinking gaze at the hallway where Kurumi disappeared into. "I really thought she was getting better. She hasn't cried or talked about him, when it was all she could do before. It's like a switch was flipped."

"What are you talking about, Kusuo-kun?" asked Aoi.

Kusuo looked ahead. His voice dropped to a muted hush. He sighed heavily. "Ani's dead."

Aoi blinked and furrowed her brows at Kusuo. "What?"

"You've heard me," said Kusuo through gritted teeth, volume low, as if to avoid anyone else hearing his words.

Aoi had to confirm it though. "Your Onii-san?" she asked, her voice whisper-quiet.

Kusuo's expression didn't change, but his silence and dour expression did seem mildly more ireful than normal.

Aoi's hand unconsciously went to her mouth, to cover a gasp.

Aoi immediately understood Kurumi's recent absence.

Aoi could not imagine her own reaction if she were to lose one of her children. Inconsolable grief would have been an understatement. Leaving the house would have been impossible.

"Was it an accident?" asked Aoi. Young people were notorious for taking unnecessary risks with 1-tonne vehicles, and too many traffic jams were caused by young people taking vehicular risks.

"In a matter of speaking," he said.

"It wasn't?"

Kusuo only shrugged. "He burned up," he said in a manner that ended that line of questioning.

Aoi frowned deeply. There was something that Kusuo wasn't saying, but she did pursue the topic any further. It was obvious to her that Kusuo was clearly upset and did not want to speak more on the subject.

"Look, don't bring it up unless she does. And even if she does, steer the conversation away. I can't..." Kusuo trailed off, seeming at a loss for words. Eventually, though he settled the words "...she can't go back to the way she was."

Still trying to get over such shocking news, Aoi did not respond to Kusuo's rather impolite command with her unusual internal critique.

Aoi was about to ask more questions, but there was a sudden change in Kusuo's expression.

The normally flat affect morphed, a faint reassuring half a smile surfaced. The posture changed, from its usual stiff, rigidity to something a little more relaxed.

It was probably the most cheerful outward expression that Aoi had ever witnessed on Shun's eternally cantankerous friend. That glazed look about the eyes, though, remained.

Kurumi emerged from the corridor. Her hair was now brushed smooth and rearranged to frame her face. She had on a fresh set of clothes, with a half sleeve button-up shirt and modest-length skirt. Her cheeks must've been pinched to force some color into them. Her usually inviting cheer, was back, though muted. She seemed more steady on her legs, now.

"Aoi-san," Kurumi beamed like her old self again. Her voice was high-pitched school girl way. "I'm so glad to see you. How have you been?"

From there, the interactions and conversations proceeded like any other neighborly friendly visit.

They all sat at the dining room table, Kurumi and her son sat on one side of the table while Aoi sat on the other. They chatted while helping themselves to snack tea. There was the usual modest exchange of how well each other are doing, the status of other mom friends.

It sounded like Nendou Midori finally allowed Nakanishi Kouta to move back in, now that the green-haired man is a world-famous magician and can afford certain indulgences. According to Midori, it sounded like her boyfriend still got along with her son well, which was Midori's main concern.

Kuboyasu Yoko said that she had been trying with Rean for another baby, since she was feeling her biological clock's devious whisper. So far, no success, but they had not given up yet. It did not sound like she was too serious about the effort, though.

At the mention of babies, though, Kurumi's expression did take on a slightly confused look, like she was not sure how she felt about the topic that should have brought all women squealing and fawning over.

Aoi quickly steered the conversation away from Kuboyasu Yoko. Even without a glance to check, Aoi could feel the dagger glares that Kusuo was directing at her.

Aoi artfully redirected their conversation to their favorite local male actor, Mugami Toru and his new project with the superstar actress Goriki Ayame. The two women went completely fangirl over celebrity relationship and juicy gossip surrounding the two actors and the tabloid's suspicions that Mugami preferred older woman, considering that he had dated one of those ugly 50-something years old heiresses of a multinational conglomerate. Mugami denied that allegation, but the said wealthy heiress refused to publicly denounce such a juicy rumor.

The two fangirls then spoke shamelessly that they could still strike it rich with handsome young men.

Kusuo kept mute the entire time the two women conversed. He was so quiet that he seemed to melt into the very air. He only moved when he saw that it was time to replenish the tea, or fill their plates with digestive biscuits or other snacks. He seemed relieved that the chatter focused on the inane, clearly avoiding the Kurumi's unusual behavior from earlier and the reason why Aoi was visiting.

And whenever Kurumi's gaze was not turned to Kusuo's direction, his gentle half-smile fell immediately. The moment Kurumi's turned her head toward Kusuo, though, the mask was plastered back on as if nothing was wrong.

After nearly three-quarters of an hour of pleasantries, though, Kusuo gently tapped his mother's shoulder to get her attention. He looked at her meaningfully.

"Oh. It's time, isn't it, Ku-chan? You're running off?" asked Kurumi.

Kusuo only blinked, for which Aoi thought that meant 'yes.'

Kurumi seemed disappointed, and that despondent look from when Kurumi first came down the stairs flashed across her face.

"Will you be back for dinner?" she said hopefully.

There was a two-second silence.

Before waiting for Kusuo's answer, Kurumi said, "I'll save you a bento box in the fridge. In fact, let me fix you a small thing to take with you, okay? Can you wait five minutes?"

Again, without waiting for Kusuo to respond, Kurumi got off the dining room chair and into the kitchen, humming to herself and pulling out the pickled food containers and other cold cuts.

Aoi watched the exchange between the Saiki mother and son, slightly envious.

It seemed that Kurumi knew her son so well that he did not have to say a word and Kurumi already knew what he wanted to say.

If only Aoi could achieve that with her children, with Shun, the child she worried the most about. She knew her worry of Shun's future bordered on the irrational and caused her to treat Shun harshly, but she could not help it.

Shun was Aoi's first baby and all mothers held their first baby in that special place that all subsequent children could never be. The first one gets more of the attention, more of the worry and more of the mistakes. If Shun did not succeed in the real world, in her heart, she would have failed as a mother no matter how wildly successful her other children became.

Aoi's expression became crestfallen at that thought.

Kurumi must felt like a complete failure when she heard the news.

Even if it was nothing that Kurumi could do, the loss of her first child must have felt like an unrecoverable blow to her entire being.

Aoi looked at Kusuo now, suddenly realizing why his behavior seemed so unusual.

The poor boy must have been taking care of Kurumi for some time, when it had been the other way around all his life. He must have been so disquieted by his mother's conduct that he interacted with the dreaded mom's friends voluntarily.

Kusuo, though, seemed to be occupied with staring at Kurumi's snack plate that was placed at an off-angle to him. The intensity of his gaze seemed fearsome enough to make milk curdle.

The plate was full, and untouched.

"So, Kusuo-kun," called Aoi, as casual as she could, now realizing what Kusuo had been trying to do. If she kept up the casual conversation, as if nothing happened, then it would contribute to going back to normal. "Did you get a part-time job?"

Those green-shaded eyeballs darted to Aoi. He gave a nod so faint that Aoi thought that she imagined it.

"What's the job?"

Like usual, Kusuo shrugged. "It's nothing important."

"Oh. You can tell me," encouraged Aoi. "We all have to start somewhere. What are you? A busboy? shelf-stocking boy? receptionist? Delivery boy. Cashier?"

"I'm..." there was a pause, like usual. It was as if he was having a hard time thinking of an appropriate word to describe what he was doing. Perhaps he was not as much of a genius as Aoi had originally thought. Finally, he settled for, "an administrator."

"Like an office manager?" clarified Aoi. "You run copies, stapling things, binding and such?"

"That's part of it," Kusuo admitted.

Aoi nodded knowingly. Entry-level jobs were typically menial, and Kusuo struck her as the type who didn't do menial work, especially if it was a humbling experience.

"Well, as long as you keep your grades up," said Aoi, her instinct to nag on grades creeping in. "You are in your third year. Speaking of which, finals are coming up next week. Are you prepared?"

"Yeah," said Kusuo. "The paperwork is in."

Another strange response.

Before Aoi could inquire further, Kurumi popped out of the kitchen, a small box wrapped in a pink cloth in her hand. "Here you go Ku-chan."

Kusuo received the wrapped box mutely, appearing to be neither pleased nor displeased by the package.

Just then, there was the sound of a pot lid dancing and the sizzling of water.

"Oh! It's boiling over! Be a minute."

Like a busy bee, Kurumi rushed over to the kitchen again, quickly reducing the heat on the stove range and putting in whatever she was cooking.

Aoi frowned slightly. Kurumi was known to be scattered-brained. But for Kurumi to start an entirely new cooking activity while a guest is over, seemed a little strange. Still, Aoi explained it away in her head that Kurumi was unlikely to be in the right state of mind and probably won't be for a while, and maybe even for the rest of her life. Mothers who outlived their children were often never quite the same after such loss.

Aoi would have to arrange for the mom's friends to do a little thing for Kurumi at some point, help Kurumi get back on her feet.

Aoi would also have to mention this to Shun too. Aoi vaguely recalled some of Shun's more off-handed comments, asking after Kusuo. A lot of people at school must be worried sick since they all seemed to be in a group of close-knit twelve friends. Aoi thought the party that Shun and his friends were planning was for Kusuo. They were working on some sort of secret banner.

Kusuo, though, was already walking toward the door, looking distractedly at his phone. It sounded like several emails had come in and from the look on his face, he might be keeping a copy machine occupied for quite some time.

Aoi ran to catch up with Kusuo to the front door.

Was Kusuo seriously going to work, looking like hoodie-wearing shut-in?

"Kaidou-san, I have a favor to ask," said Kusuo as he put on a pair of his usual dressy but comfortable walking shoes.

Yes. He was going to work looking just that casual, whatever work was. Maybe it was one of those venture capital, internet startups, social media companies. Those risky boom and bust style companies usually cared little for the traditional attire and behaviors of work. Respected industries like Mitsubishi or Sony would never allow such sloppiness.

"Anything," responded Aoi automatically.

"Can you get my mother to eat something before you leave?" asked Kusuo.

Aoi blinked. Her mind slowly understanding why Kusuo was staring so intently at Kurumi's plate earlier. In the end, she nodded hesitantly.

"My father will be home in about half an hour or so," continued Kusuo. "They're still not getting along well so they might start fighting. You should leave before it gets awkward."

Oh. Aoi was going to leave before that happened. She was not that close to Kurumi to be caught in between the relationship between husband and wife. Still, Aoi could not help but be curious. "Why would they not get along?"

"Something to do with Ani," answered Kusuo, that hesitance and uncertainty about him, "something that happened, before I was born." Like earlier though, the word was said in a manner that cut off all further probing into the details.

It was a sensitive moment, one that Aoi was conscious enough to be aware of and not press further. "Well. I'll do my best to help your mother out," said Aoi, skillfully turning an interaction from a place of discomfort to reassurance. As a full-time businesswoman in her past life, before children, she had to face many situations to diffuse fray nerves.

For now, her inner thoughts schemed of how she would press the local mom friends into service.

Aoi and Kuboyasu Yoko were great at making meals, granted that Yoko was better at traditional meals and Aoi tend to sprinkle her fares with an international flavor. Nendou Midori would be invited to help, of course. Aoi just had to make sure that Midori did not go for her usual method of spicing everything with either rice wine or liquor. That last plate of drunken chicken curry made Aoi sang karaoke for an hour and a hungover the next day.

Trying to reassure Kusuo, Aoi reached out and placed a hand on Kusuo's shoulder, similar to that time when she drove him home weeks ago.

He was hot.

Not as hot as he was weeks ago, but enough for Aoi to retract her hand and notice the difference. It did not seem like the heat that Hairo-boy exhibited. No, the Hairo-boy was always sweating because he was always exercising and working out, generating body heat. Kusuo's heat was hot enough to scald.

Aoi frowned. She distinctively recalled how Kusuo said something about him and his older brother were always like 'this.' And how he only said that his older brother had burned up.

Aoi suddenly stared at Kusuo in realization of what was happening.

"Not. A. Single. Word," said Kusuo, stressing every syllable. He seemed to know exactly what was in her head. "It'd only worry my mother."

"But Kusuo-kun!"

"It's managed," said Kusuo meaningfully. "I should be," There was a deep breath, "will be, fine." Kusuo opened the door. "Don't tell people about this."

"Why?"

"I want...need things, to go back to normal. I don't want an uproar." He snorted a little. "We still haven't told my maternal grandparents. They shouldn't hear it from someone else."

Before Aoi could inquire further, she saw Kusuo's dour resting expression suddenly morphed again, back to that mask of calm, almost happy expression.

Kurumi had somehow snuck up behind Aoi.

"I'm sorry," apologized Kurumi. "I thought to start making teriyaki and a grilled sandal, for when Papa get back."

The strangeness of the words made a drop of sweat form on side of Aoi's head. Had Kurumi gone deranged?

Kusuo, though, looked away almost shyly. He checked his watch and seemed anxious to leave.

From her vantage point, Aoi could see the watch was digital and a reading of a red-colored "40.0C" flashed.

Was it already 4:00 p.m. already?

"Bye, Ku-chan," chirped Kurumi, forced happiness in her voice.

With that, Kusuo stepped across the threshold and closed the front door.

The two women went back to the table.

This time, Aoi went into the kitchen. She decided not to help, but to take over. She tossed the grilled sandal into the garbage and rummage through the fridge.

The fridge was poorly stocked. Mostly frozen foods, TV dinners and condiments.

Not a problem. Aoi had worked with poor ingredients before. She should still be able to whip up something nutritious. From the looks of it, Kurumi's cooking seemed lacking. The water was left boiling for probably the last ten minutes without any added ingredients. The teriyaki chicken did not appear to have been soaked in a marinade and likely to be dry like chalk if cooked.

Aoi was breaking every single social convention of politeness with this action, but with her forceful personality, she was able to banish Kurumi to the table of snacks.

Aoi was going to make good on her words, even if she would end up in an uncomfortable situation once Kurumi's husband returned. It was the least that she could do for the boy who convinced Shun to come home.

-----------------

By the time that Aoi got home from her visit of the Saiki family, she was greeted with a kitchen steeped in carnage.

It appeared that Sora, as the second woman in the house, that it was her job to make dinner because mom wasn't home, yet.

Under Kaidous Aoi's strict tutelage, Sora was taught how to cook the rice, stir fry a rudimentary meat dish, mix the salad and prepare basic miso soup.

Direct, like her mother, Sora barked orders to her brothers like she was the boss of the family. Her face took on the expression of a killer robot, with a matching imaginary red eye, when Shun dared to utter a lackadaisical response to washing a mixing spoon.

Since Toki adored his older brother, ganged up on Sora.

It was a challenge that Sora refused to back down from.

So even though the food did make it to the table, there were burnt sleeves, food stains at weird places on the countertops and enough sauce spatter to resemble a horrific stabbing crime scene.

Aoi walked in on Sora holding a butter knife threateningly, a smear of jam on the knife, at Shun.

"I don't care if you think the dishes are going to dry on their own. You wipe it dry!" hollered Sora.

"Not with the rag that you're using," reasoned Shun. "You just used it to wipe up spilled ketchup. It'll only make dishes dirtier."

"Then wash the rag in the sink, you blockhead. Are you really this dumb?" shot Sora back.

"You were occupying the sink! I was just waiting for the sink to be freed up!"

While the two argued the technical domestic details, Toki was already at the table, happily spooning hazelnut spread directly from the jar into his mouth, completely ignoring the small bowl of rice and plates of side dishes.

"Ah hum," Aoi cleared her throat, her arms crossed, tapping a slippered foot with impatience.

Sora and Shun looked at each other, suddenly realized just the war zone they had made of the kitchen and they've been caught red-handed.

The two partners-in-crime pointed at each other. "It's his/her fault!" they cried.

Instead, Aoi began to laugh. A hearty, throaty laugh.

Sora and Shun stood, stiff as their mother approached them and hugged them close to her. She kissed both of them once on the cheek, for which both children's faces turned deep red.

Such direct physical display of love was nearly taboo in their culture and both nearly pushed their mother away. It was only their exposure to western cultures, during that time when they lived in America, that they understood that this could be normal and acceptable.

"Mom, not in front of..." Shun trailed off, too embarrassed to continue. This recent "mom is nice and isn't Dark Reunion" sentiment felt nice and mortifying at the same time.

Sora gracefully accepted her mother's outward display of care and affection. She did stick out her tongue at Shun though, when mom wasn't watching.

Toki, feeling left out, abandoned his half-eaten jar of hazelnut spread and pulled at his mother's skirt. "What about me, mama?"

"You too, Toki," said Aoi and gave Toki a kiss that deliberately was accompanied by kissing sounds.

"Ew! Mom! Stop! It's gross!" complained Toki, wiping at his face.

Aoi did not care. She felt unusually glad and grateful to have her children held close to her. She gave an extra tight hug to Shun, feeling usually happy that he was peacefully going through high school.

"Mum? Did something happen?" asked Shun once Aoi let go. He noticed that mom's eyes were liquidy. "Did dad extend his business trip again?"

"No. Nothing happened," said Aoi, honoring her words to Kusuo earlier. She did wipe at her eyes a little. "Come on. Let's eat dinner."

Chapter Text

Today was one of those nerve-wracking days in any third year higher schooler's life.

It was the first term finals.

For the next three days, these third year high schoolers would take the exams that would determine the recommendation from teachers, separate the gold from the dross, and favor of tertiary institutions.

The result of all of this was a prediction of the final score of the all-important College Entrance Exam in half a year. All of the person's hopes and aspirations were pinned on how well they did on that exam.

On a day like this, anxious parents clacked flint, beseeching the gods for luck for their children. Every student had gotten at least one charm from a temple. Those who had boyfriends or girlfriends temporarily stopped dating to study. Most tried to go to sleep earlier the night before and many barely slept due to nervousness. In the lot behind the school, near the dumpsters, study drugs like Ritalin were traded for payment in either favors or cash.

For Satou, the world's most normal boy who was a third year at PK Academy, in Class 4, he did experience all of the above, except for the purchase of drugs.

He was nervous, of course. He wasn't particularly smart, but wasn't wantonly stupid either. He wasn't super hard working like the class representatives but he wasn't as lazy as to not do homework.

Most of the time.

He simply wanted to go to an average, commonplace university and study something boring but respectable like economics or literature. He hadn't thought about his future in more detail than that. He decided to do the college thing because it was encouraged by his parents. After all, that was the normal thing to do.

Sitting in class for that brief free time before exam time, Satou chatted with his friends while half-heartedly flipping through his study notes. A homework book from a cram school before him, with question and answer. His usual two guy friends, and his girlfriend, the green-haired Suzumiya Hii, hung out with him.

At the present moment, Suzumiya talked about how she narrowly missed being run over by a careening motorcyclist during her morning walk to school.

Satou frowned at that and apologized to Suzumiya. He would have walked her to school like a proper boyfriend, but it was exam day. People's study schedules took precedence over what would have been normal courtesy from a boy who likes a girl and the said girl liked him back. Any rational high schooler knew to do that, their individual future was too important.

Suzumiya waved his concerns away. She was used to the ultra bad luck and that made her as ready as a doomsday prepper. Instead, her attention, and Satou's friend's attention, was drawn away by a teacher who came to class almost fifteen minutes early, with a student in tow.

"Hey, is that Saiki Kusuo?" said Suzumiya absently as she watched the teacher walked Saiki to the last seat in the last row, which was the only unassigned seat in their class.

Yep. It was Saiki Kusuo, that odd but still pretty forgettable kid who used to be in Class 1. No one else in the school had that shocking magenta-pink-colored hair, or talked so little. He had caused a bit of an uproar a few weeks ago when he scored first place on midterms. Academic superiority attracted jealousies and admiration. Some girls immediately liked him, despite never meeting or noticing him before, especially the freshmen. Some of the boys, specifically Tanihara, swore that they'll knock Saiki down a peg or two. That same uproar died quickly since Saiki never came back after taking the midterm exam. No one had seen him for the past five weeks.

"Didn't he withdrew from school a while back?" whispered one of Satou's pals, a thinnish young man with buck teeth and glasses Abe Yunichi. Out of the group, he was the smarter one. "I heard that from Takeru-kun who went to Class 1."

"He did," confirmed Suzumiya. She did not, however, whisper. "Toritsuka-kun told me and asked me if I knew anything."

"Why didn't he get walked in after class started? Isn't it normal for someone in the administration, like a vice principal, to introduce him to class?" asked Satou. "Even if he's just coming from another class?"

"It's finals of the first term," answered Abe. "There won't be enough exam time if we waited."

"Well, won't he test badly?" asked Suzumiya worriedly. "He's missed over a month of classes."

"Well, he made first place on midterms," pointed out Abe. "Full points too. There's a rumor going around that he's actually related to a couple of really well-known geniuses and this whole 'going to school' thing is a sham."

"Saiki Kusuo?" said Satou incredulously. "How can that be? He's always ranked next to me all last year. "

"Well, the rumor also said that he did that for the real challenge of knowing what everyone did and changing his right answers to wrong answers to get an exact grade," said Abe. "He's simply that smart to know what everyone's answer is going to be."

Satou gave a queer laugh. "No way! You're crazy, Abe. In order for him to do that, he'd had to be a psychic. And psychics don't exist."

"That's like saying Godzilla doesn't exist," said Abe haughtily.

Satou rolled his eyes. Abe and his conspiracy theories. "Whatever. You can believe that Saiki is a psychic if you want to. I might believe it when he can actually throw a ball properly."

"What if he's bad at throwing a ball is because he's trying to blend in?" suggested Abe.

"Uh-huh," said Satou. At this point, he was simply entertaining Abe by pretending to agree.

And to think Abe ranked in the 20s during the midterm. Maybe all the smart ones did not have common sense.

Suzumiya, though, had decided to do something about the return on a generally unremarkable student. "Well, I gotta tell Toritsuka-kun and Miko-chan about him! They're Saiki-kun's close friends. They'll be glad to know that Saiki came back." He paused momentarily to lightly pat Satou's hand. "I'll be going now. Meet me after school, okay, Hiroshi-kun? Good luck on today's test."

Satou blushed. He was still new at the whole experience of hearing his given name uttered by a female who was not his mother. The feeling of a girl's soft, warm hand on his own was extra nice. He almost forgot to nod.

"I'll text you," said Suzumiya sweetly.

With that, Suzumiya quickly ran out of class and down the hall.

Satou continued to chat with his friends for a little bit more. He was distracted by his friends enough not to hear a high-pitched "eep!" that sounded very much like Suzumiya and several loud crashing sounds that came from down the hall. Instead, he allowed his eyes to dart once or twice over to the new addition to their class.

Saiki had taken out a thinnish-looking book and placed it on the desk. Though not close enough to see what Saiki was reading, Satou could make out the weird characters that reminded Satou of the speech bubbles by the extraterrestrials in manga. It looked to be all numbers, exclamation marks, fractions, letters, three dots, parenthesis, and summation signs.

Oh oh. Trouble. Tanihara Kenji, the kid that Saiki dethroned as the number one test-taker had walked in. Though it was probably only ten minutes before the bell, Tanihara made a special trip over to Saiki and slapped a palm down on Saiki's desk.

Saiki pulled the book at the last possible second to prevent Tanihara from putting his hand on the book. He didn't look up to Tanihara, but kept on staring at the errant hand that invaded his space.

"Get ready for a beat down, Saiki Kusuo," declared Tanihara. "I aced the preparatory mock exam at Ten Star Academy, which I've heard, is the very same school that you've flunked out of in your first year."

The said Saiki Kusuo stared at Tanihara's hand, did not look up. From Satou's line of sight, Saiki just looked tired.

Tanihara allowed a crooked grin to grace his lips. He could already feel first place within his grasp. His opponent looked almost malnurished, and probably stayed up too late playing video games.

There was a clap from the front of the classroom. "Tanihara-kun," called the male teacher. A stack of paper in his hand. The words "50-minutes" were written on the chalkboard. "You should be back at your class. Exam will start in five minutes."

The facade of a model student returned on Tanihara's face and Tanihara lifted his hand from Saiki's desk. He made a gesture of two fingers pointing at his own eyes then whipped his hand 180 at Saiki. "I'm watching you."

By now, almost everyone had shuffled back into class. There were a few others who remembered Saiki, back from when they had classes with him during the second year. These students were namely Takahashi and his two close friends, Yokota Jaga, Murata Shuuji. They crowded around Saiki's desk briefly.

"Wow, Saiki. Welcome back! Nice to see you rejoined the land of the living," said Takahashi. "Where have you been all this time?"

By that time, Saiki had put his book away. He had retrieved a pencil and an eraser.

It was a strange setup, since most people had a calculator with them.

Back to the conversation, Saiki looked up from his seat at Takahashi. "Here and there," he said noncomittally.

A weird look overcame Takahashi's face. "Did you just said, 'here and there?'" asked Takahashi as he rubbed his ears a bit.

Saiki's nod was barely perceivable.

"Wow. Why does it feel like this is the first time I've ever heard you talk, man?" said Takahashi to himself.

"Because he almost never talked," explained Yokota. "Even if he did, it was hard to hear him over that loud idiot Nendou and that chatterbox chunni Kaidou."

"Plus, he hangs out with that punk Kuboyasu," added Murata. "Ever hear him yell?"

Takahashi ignored the chatter from his two close friends, focused on the potential gossip material.

"So, where exactly is 'here and there?' Here is home. Right? Where is there?"

For a moment, it seemed like Saiki wasn't about to respond. But he did end up saying, "England."

"England?" Takahashi repeated. He scrunched his nose a bit. It seemed fitting, since Saiki always struck him as a snob, always going to a cafe and such. "Why would you go there?"

"For its charming weather." There was a twinge of sarcasm in his voice.

It took a moment for Takahashi to catch on. He completely caught on once Murata clarified, "Because it's always raining in England, Takahashi."

"Ohhh!" Takahashi and Yokota both uttered in unison.

"Well, probably better than there. it's been in incredibly wet spring," said Takahashi. He then narrowed his eyes. "You know, your seat in Class 1 went to Shinoda Takeru," informed Takahashi. "There was even an auction for it, since, you know, you used to sit right next to Teruhashi, the goddess herself." Takahashi's expression turned slimy. "Want to know which teacher got some yen out of it?"

Before Saiki could respond, there was a clap in front of the class, getting someone's attention.

"Alright, third year, Class Four. The Final Exam of the first term is about to start. Return to your seats. Phones away. Pencils, erasers, and calculators only. Do not start until you're told to do so."

With that, everyone quickly shuffled back to their seats. The customary teacher's greeting was shorter than usual. Soon, the test packets were passed out.

Everyone sat at ready attention, looking at the test cover packet. Many students felt the increase in their heartbeat and the knot in their stomachs. This was going to be one of the hardest tests that they'll be facing and it was not even the hardest they will take this year.

The teacher held up a hand as the student sat in their seats, backs straight. They watched the teacher like sprinters, ready for the shotgun start.

"Begin!"

Chapter Text

Kaidou stretched in his chair.

The second day of the First Term Finals was over. They were two-thirds way through on the testing schedule.

Most students of PK Academy's third year, Class 1 were still milling around the classroom after dismissal.

Test days were like that. The school and the students knew that they would be too brain dead to be of any worth at any club or other activities. So the crowd rush of students to the shoe lockers was much more muted as the students took their time. Most clubs cancelled their meetings and practices.

Kaidou was one of those milling students.

He also felt good.

Kaidou had the test-taking thing down.

For some reason, all the mock tests that he had taken at cram school in the last few weeks, just did not have that usual accompanying existential dread that he had always felt for so many years. He took the mock tests, his heart at ease. When the scores came back, he did notably better than how he did before. He had felt confident enough that he only stayed up until 11:00 p.m. studying each night instead of midnight. He even got an hour of gaming in.

The real finals at PK Academy certainly did not feel all that hard.

It could be that he finally stood up to mom and he was finally being treated like an adult, more importantly, with respect, at home. Having dad in the camp of 'Shun can be trusted' certainly did build up his self-esteem.

The random mom-went-crazy hugging sessions affected him, too. He felt oddly embarrassed by her sudden displays of love for him, even though she would never say the word 'love' to him. Mom still told him to study, in her usual nagging way. But instead of feeling criticized for not meeting her expectation, he felt that she was only looking out for him.

The hold of Dark Reunion over his mother was finally broken.

Nah. That could not be it.

Kaidou was simply that smart.

The chosen champion for the world to defeat Dark Reunion had to be innately talented. It was Kaidou himself who broke Dark Reunion's curse over his mother.

There was going to be one more day of tests, to round out finals week. Then a few more days of school before the start of their last summer break together.

Everyone had already, more or less, planned out their summer break, each with their own hobbies, part-time jobs, camps, family vacations and cram schools. But the most important part of the summer break is the all-out revenge birthday bash that Kaidou was not-so-secretly planning.

The cake was going to be three-tiered. The party was going to be at Teruhashi's house. There were going to be balloons, board games, ramen, fruit trays, chip trays, endless snacks, confetti, and paper party hats.

Saiki was going to be forced to wear one of those conical foiled paper party hats like a European medieval princess. Nendou had the mission of securing a piece of gossamer, preferably pink-colored, from the Home Economics teaching classroom, for the said party hat.

No more mister nice guy.

Kaidou was going to embarrass the hell out of Saiki, make that flat affect, lying friend of his cry. Kaidou was going to say the sappiest, cringest, heartfelt words. This was the minimum payback for ignoring all their text, calls, and whatever else.

And as a cherry on top, he was going to leave Saiki and Teruhashi together and alone.

Those two better come back from summer break as a couple or Kaidou was going to swear that he might do something as drastic as announce Teruhashi's crush over the school intercom.

Kaidou grinned as he thought of setting up one of his best friends with the most worshipped girl in the world.

Would they end up doing the unmentionables, be intimate, before they finish high school?

Kaidou cackled to himself, feeling like a responsible, perfect wingman. He had already prepared several books and videos on intimacy techniques. In case Saiki needed advice in the women's department. Saiki did not look like he got out much.

Consummated consort of a fellow Knight of Judgement, indeed.

"Hey, guys," called Hairo. "How'd you do on Finals?"

Kaidou, ever so cool, gave a thumbs up, from the throne of his classroom chair.

Kuboyasu gave a noncommittal smile. "We'll see."

"That's great you, guys!" concluded Hairo, his enthusiasm already bleeding through his blindingly bright, fiery aura.

Nendou was picking at his nose. "That was a test?"

Nendou's three close friends made one of those 'okay-Nendou-can't be this stupid, right?' face.

Had Nendou gotten dumber since midterms? At least he was aware that they had a test back then.

Shinoda, the jackass who took Saiki's seat, joined in like he was part of their group. "I got top 50, no problem," said Shinoda. "It's as simple as holding chopsticks."

Kuboyasu started to glare but a reproving look from Hairou successfully made Kuboyasu keep his expression neutral and shut whatever crass commentary he was about to make.

Hairo, that young man with not a single bad bone in his body, demanded that they all treat Shinoda no different than any other classmate. Disliking someone simply because they took over the seat of a member of their core friend group was just unfair.

"Well, that sounds great, Shinoda-kun. I'm sure you worked really hard," said Hairo.

Shinoda made a gesture of buffing his nails on his uniform shirt. "It wasn't a hard test at all. I didn't even study." He made a cool expression, with a heroic pose before looking over to the goddess next to him.

As perfect as always, the overwhelming aura of flowers, imaginary angelic feathers, and heavenly carol seemed to nearly bowled over Shinoda. Even after sitting next to the goddess herself for a few weeks, Shinoda was still very much in awe of the most perfect woman in the world, so much in awe that he did not simply love her, but worshipped her more than he did before.

Unfortunately, Teruhashi wasn't paying attention to him. Instead, she was busy chatting with her many female friends.

Teruhashi was in the center of the group of girls who circled her like planets circle the sun. They presently exchanged war stories of the test preparation and how well each thought they did.

Teruhashi was primly mum about how she did, even though everyone knew that she likely scored in the top fifteen places like she always did. Good enough to garner unquestioned academic admiration and worship, but not so good that people considered her haughty.

Inevitably, though, the girls' conversation topic switch to relationships, and Teruahshi was asked the question that was always asked at least once a week.

"Why haven't you gotten a boyfriend, Teruhashi? It's already your third year in high school."

It was a question that grabbed the attention of every male in the class, except for a certain half a dozen or so.

As usual, Teruhashi gave her song a dance that she had always given. "It's too early for me to think about that," she demurred. "I am a third year student. I should focus on my studies, get into a good college. Haven't you heard, even the college graduates these days are having a hard time finding a job. I want to be an independent woman and, eventually, be a dependable person for my future husband."

Her crowd of admirers, particularly the males, only looked upon Teruhashi like they were worshipping a golden statue.

"OFFU!" was uttered in unison by the boys, each and everyone dreamed, in near tears, of a future where they came home to Teruhashi's presence.

Perfect Teruhashi gave a winsome smile and flipped her hair like a famous actress.

The answer did not satisfy the questioning acquaintances who demanded more juicy details. One of the girls asked, "But Teruhashi, you must like someone, right?"

The briefest silence fired the imagination of Teruhashi's courtiers. "Yeah. I've heard that you really liked someone since second year."

"Oh, yeah" Teruhashi admitted with a sigh. A frown brushed her lips.

The effect on Teruhashi's court was immediate. People began to offer their allowances, their school notes, their prized possessions, even the blood of their firstborn they haven't had yet. Anything to wash away Teruhashi's briefest displeasure.

"But he doesn't attend this school," Teruhashi said as quickly as she could, plastering her angelic expression back on her face.

"Well, so which school does he attend?" asked a gossip-hungry girl.

Teruhashi was caught. Fortunately, she already had a truthful answer to give, "He used to attend Ten Star Academy."

Immediately, the crowd was impressed. Teruhashi certainly had some high standards. The top students of PK Academy simply did not compare even to the delinquents of Ten Star Academy.

Teruhashi quickly looked for an opening to get out of that line of questioning, "Hey. Chiyo-chan. How'd you do?"

Seeing how their goddess's attention was now back to the ordinary subject of close girlfriends and their wellbeing, the worshippers dispersed quickly.

Yumehara had her head and her arms stretched out on the desk. "I'm so dead," she said simply.

A sympathy crowd, made up of Kaidou and Kuboyasu, had gathered around Yumehara.

Teruhashi walked to five steps join the milling core friend group around Yumehara.

"That was a hard test, Chi," Kaidou caught himself last second, "I mean, Yumehara-san," said Kaidou sympathetically. "I'm sure you did better than last time."

Acutely aware of the near social slip that Kaidou had committed, Yumehara gave a grateful smile. The occasional slips like this made Yumehara's heart fluttered from time to time. Even if they've said not to do so at school and only around their friends. School gossip being school gossip. True friends all made the unspoken effort not to tease them. Still, Yumehara said gratefully, "If you say so."

"It's not that bad, Chiyo-chan," assuaged Teruhashi. To her, Yumehara was one of the few real friends and Teruhashi genuinely felt sympathy for her. Searching for support, Teruhashi looked to Mera. "Right? Chisato-chan?"

Mera was distracted. She was busy packing up her things, a poor sheet of paper, a snapped pencil, and a small, pebble-sized eraser, clearly preparing to run off to her part-time job. Oddly enough, Mera was beaming. "Right."

"What are you so happy about, Mera?" asked Kuboyasu offhandedly. "You aced the test?"

"Nah. I did average, I think," admitted Mera, the smile still on her face. "I'm just happy that you guys are so nice to me. You're such great friends." There was a dramatic look of extreme heartfelt feelings. "I hope we stay friends forever!"

A little overwhelmed by the girl's expression and curious, Kuboyasu asked, "How so, Mera-san?"

"You didn't have to leave me an onigiri surprise in my locker two days in a row," Mera said happily. "Saiko has already gotten me a month-long buffet meal plan. Although I've let my brothers and sisters share the subscription so I only get to eat regular food once a week. The onigiri really did help with the exams since I'm not distracted by my stomach all day!"

The friends group of Kaidou, Nendou, Kuboyasu, Hairo, Teruhashi and Yumehara all looked at each other, confused.

"Err...we didn't..." began Kaidou. Unfortunately, he was cut off.

"That's because you had so much food that you've imagined the onigiri," said Saiko, looking all scintillating with sparkles of gold and the smell of old money about him. "Get on your knees like a dog and kiss my hand, peasant, for my generosity, and I might get you another meal plan."

The words immediately riled up Kuboyasu. "Saiko! That's not how you treat your classmate!"

"No. It's how you treat peasants," said Saiko, completely unruffled, making a show of looking at his money ledger that came out of nowhere.

"Come on, guys. Don't compare and don't fight," placated Hairo.

Before Kuboyasu could get in another word to the contrary, Teruhashi had already cut in.

"How did you do Saiko-kun?"

Since it was Teruhashi, the most perfect woman in the woman the world, asking, Saiko entertained her. "About the same as last time," said Saiko.

"What? No insult about how high and mighty you are, without studying?" jabbed Kuboyasu, finally getting a word in. It was as if he could not help himself.

For once, Saiko looked a bit contemplative. "Hey. I've been up all night every day for the last couple of weeks working on a business deal with Psi Industries while you buffoons are snoring in your flea-infested beds and drooling over rice balls. I'd like to see you author a 500-page contract."

"Boring," said Kuboyasu with a fake yawn, hiding his initially impressed expression, "Gang honor pledges are at least 550 pages long."

Saiko gritted his teeth. A young master such as him could never lose to some back-street punk who would never own, much less sat on, a golden toilet.

Good thing Teruhashi was there to placate the nerves. She said many sweet words, words that any guy would've paid their entire fortune to hear.

Saiko clicked his tongue and humphed. He supposed that he could do Teruhashi a favor and overlook Kuboyasu's insolence.

By now, Mera had already packed up her bag and left the classroom. Hairo went to additional tennis practice or his next civic activity, he did not indicate which.

"Hey, anyone wants to go get some ramen?" asked Nendou.

Kaidou shook his head. "No. I'd rather that we go get some gyudon. At a Sukiya."

"You've been wanting gyudon recently," commented Kuboyasu. "Don't you eat enough rice already?"

Kaidou shrugged. "I just felt like it. It's the last place that I saw Saiki, you know."

At the mention of Saiki, a cover gloom overcame the remaining group of Kaidou, Kuboyasu, Nendou, Teruhashi, and Yumehara.

They still haven't made progress on the project "Kick Shinoda out of Class 1" tactic. The study load of a third-year higher schooler had kept them busy.

Saiko though, the haughty rich boy, had learned to never allow such naked emotions to appear on his face. He wasn't particularly close to the magenta pink-haired boy, either. Saiko only tolerated that mop of pink highlighter head because the most desirable woman, Teruhashi, seemed to hold high opinions of that silent boy.

"Well, Let's go, then. In memory of pal," said Nendou.

As dumb as Nendou was, Kaidou and Kuboyasu nodded.

Teruhashi and Yumehara, though, had other ideas.

"I think I'll go study some more at a cafe," said Yumehara. She looked to Teruhashi and gave her a silent 'you wanna go?'

The silence was necessary since Teruhashi always drew a crowd wherever she went. At this moment, the girls were not looking forward to being disturbed. Yumehara probably had a lot of her mind that she wanted to divulge to a girlfriend.

Just then, the door to the Third Year Class 1 classroom was suddenly slid open with a bang, nearly derailing the door off its tracks.

Suzumiya, the girl from Class 2, stumbled in.

Everyone who was still in the classroom sweatdropped.

The poor girl's uniform was sliced up by...something. There were cuts in the collar of her blouse and her knee-length socks. There was a dried trail of blood on the side of her face and a slight bump on the side of her head from running into a wall. She was breathing hard, like she had run several kilometers in the 40 something steps that it would've taken to walk from Class 2 to Class 1.

"Suzumiya-san," called Satou, who was a few steps behind her. "I've told you to wait for me."

Suzumiya pulled out a handkerchief from one of her infinite-space pockets and wiped the blood from the side of her face.

Not that it appeased the worried look on Satou's face. "Are you sure you don't need to go to the nurse's office?"

Suzumiya shook her head so vigorously that she almost fell over.

Good thing that there was a desk nearby for her to brace against.

"Toritsuka-kun!" yelled Suzumiya like it was her destiny.

Speaking of which, the class branded 'germ' of the Third Year, Toritsuka whipped around. He looked slightly green when he saw Suzumiya. "Oh Hee...ey, there, Hii-chan."

Immediately, the address got several kids who were still in the classroom began chatting in a hushed whisper.

Everyone thought that Suzumiya was dating Satou-kun.

Shinoda, though, looked at Toritsuka appreciatively.

Satou had a disgruntled look on his face. Why would the school pervert, self-proclaimed medium, address Satou's girlfriend with such intimate honorific?

Still, Satou was a normal person, and a normal person like him, at age seventeen, going on eighteen, had enough patience and poise to settle his displeasure in private.

Suzumiya, though, was not normal.

Suzumiya had a special place in her heart for Toritsuka, since he was the only boy who dared approach her when she first transferred to PK Academy. He was one of the few who showed interest in her too, though Suzumiya far preferred Satou-kun.

Toritsuka was into overly exotic topics, in Suzumiya's humble opinion.

Toritsuka, who was in deep conversation with Aiura and Akechi prior to Suzumiya's grand entrance into the Class 1 classroom, shuffled away from Suzumiya. He wedged himself in between Aiura and Akechi, as if using his two friends as a shield.

Aiura, the popular fortune-telling gyaru who found a lot of people's lost pets a few weeks ago rolled her eyes. "You dumb prick, her aura has vastly improved."

"From what? Satan's death skull to a grim reaper?" asked Toritsuka.

"You know, Toritsuka, what you're saying is technically the same," stated Akechi. "You are saying that there's no improvement in her aura, after your guardian spirit trained him to protect her better. Are you that useless?"

"Not me," clarified Toritsuka. "My guardian spirit is that useless." He scratched the back of his head mumbling, "Though, he might be the reason why I can't ever get chicks. Maybe he needs training too."

"No, Toritsuka," said Akechi. "You don't get the attention of the females that you want the attention of. That's the main difference." Akechi began to digress into a long diatribe about the different girls that Toritsuka had unsuccessfully asked out.

Suzumiya was used to the nonsense dialogue of the people around her, so the weirdos of Class 1 did not phase her at all.

Satou tried hard not to make a face at the strange dialogue he just heard. He was a polite young man, after all. His concern was only for Suzumiya and he stepped closer to her, as if his mere presence could protect her.

"Toritsuka-kun!" called Suzumiya cheerfully, again, completely ignoring the fact that her head was starting to swell and blood was still trickling out from somewhere above her hairline. "I've been trying to talk to you for the last couple of days, but I kept on getting delayed!" From there, she described the various accidents that she had, trying to traverse the few steps between Class 2 and Class 1. It had something to do with mop buckets, a bow and arrow, and an errant baseball.

Of course, the fact that they had the first term finals put a dint on any socializing among the classes. So Suzumiya focused on getting back to class on time for her exam, never mind trying to tell Toritsuka whatever was on her mind.

Aiura struggled not to roll her eyes at the long, endless descriptions of Suzumiya's hazardous adventures. "Well, that sounded a lot better than what I've seen," muttered the gyaru. "I saw a crapload more really bad shit. Like exploding chemistry set, weaken concrete floor, and getting herself cut on the bathroom mirror."

Toritsuka, who wasn't paying attention to Suzumiya, caught that. "Wait... Tits, aren't your fortune-telling supposed to be 100% accurate?"

"Always," said Aiura confidently, "unless one of us take action to the contrary." She gave Toritsuka a shifty look. "Did you suddenly decided to become a saint?"

"No, bimbo princess," said Toritsuka plaintively. "It's more likely that the Mr. Normal actually improved her luck to the point that she avoided all that shitty luck."

Speaking of luck, Satou moved to grab Suzumiya before she hit the floor.

"Oh my goodness! Suzumiya-san!" cried Satou. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm just a little dizzy from the blood loss," whimpered Suzumiya. She leaned heavily against Satou.

Many of the onlookers sweatdropped, not sure how to react to such a declaration.

The situation had put a lot of attention on Satou, for which he blushed a bit and felt rather self-conscious.

Plus, Suzumiya was pressing her body against him.

Satou never realized that girls could feel so soft, like jello. He had laid his head on her lap before, and held her hand. Both of those actions caused the inexperienced young to blush. But feeling the weight of her entire body? No. He felt a lump develop in his throat and a tightening of his pants.

Suzumiya was also pretty heavy. She was a relatively meaty girl from having to escape all the disasters that had befallen her for most of her life.

Satou only had an average amount of muscles. As a shortstop and fielder on the baseball team, he was built and trained more for sprinting than lifting. He certainly could not carry Suzumiya bridal style. However, he wasn't about to carry her like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder.

Nendou, came stomping and staring. He hunched his back so he was nearly eye level with the green-haired girl. His beady black eyes, poorly shaved face, mohawk, large ears, and mouth full of teeth made him look exactly like a villain. "You need to go to the nurse," he growled in his deep voice.

Suzumiya eeped, fear running through her. A tear almost came to her eyes. "Ah! It's an ogre!"

"No. It's just a Nendou," placated Kaidou. He had broken away from his clique to make sure that Nendou did not get into trouble again through no fault of his own. Kaidou, having been the large oaf's friend for so long, was used to people's unreasonable reaction to Nendou's face and having to talk for him. The number of times that the four of them, Saiki, Nendou, Kaidou, and Kuboyasu, were stopped by the police due to Nendou's face was ridiculous.

Kuboyasu, lured into the conversation by his two close guy friends, took a look at Suzumiya and said, "You need to go to a nurse. Do you need help?"

At this moment, Saiko decided to make his presence known. He snapped his fingers.

Out of nowhere, a medical doctor and two nurses, at least people who dressed in the stereotypical medical staff garbs, suddenly appeared.

"Anyone call for a doctor?" said Saiko. He looked smug, with imaginary stars and sparkles about him.

The situation had become untenable for Satou. He wanted to look heroic in front of his girlfriend, but knew that he could never carry her, nor could he afford private doctors.

Sweet Suzumiya did the one thing that made Satou like her even more. "No. Satou-kun can help me," she said, leaning heavily on Satou. "Come on, let's go."

Relieved, Satou slung one of Suzumiya's arms over a shoulder and began to leave the classroom.

"Wait a second," called Aiura. "Hiihii, aren't you here to tell this twat here something?"

"Hey! I resent that!" yelled Toritsuka. He was somewhat used to being called names by Aiura, but rarely so publically.

Seeing that Suzumiya wasn't feeling all that great, Satou answered for her. "Oh. She hasn't told you that Saiki Kusuo is in my class?"

At the mention of Saiki, half a dozen people in Class 1 froze.

"What?" whispered Kaidou, a look of betrayal on his face.

"Partner's back?" asked Nendou, looking astonished.

"Saiki's back in school?" asked Yumehara, she was almost out of the classroom.

Teruhashi had already left by then, so to avoid the annoying crowd at the cafe.

"Yeah," answered Satou. "He started yesterday, the first day of finals. I hope he did alright, since he's always the first person to turn his papers in."

Interests piqued, Kuboyasu asked. "Well, is he still in the classroom?"

Saitou shook his head. "No. The last period is study hall and he left immediately after roll call. He just got up and left. He didn't even say farewell to the teacher." Satou looked thoughtful. "He's going to get a note on his report card if he kept this up." Then stiffened his back. "Come on, Suzumiya-san. Let's get you to the nurse."

The ones left in class who had called Saiki their friend all looked at each other.

Why hasn't Saiki told them that he was coming back to school?

Chapter Text

Teruashi Kokomi was about to kick God's ass.

First, her phone died. Like, how was that even possible? So what if she had not gotten a new phone in three years and she was due for a new one? The stupid thing held charge for barely an hour. You would think, with her family's money, being able to afford a 1 billion yen house, could afford their most perfect little girl a new phone every year. But no. Kokomi had to be prim and proper. She could not be a burden on her family. She wasn't about to stoop so low as to use her charm to get one of her many admirers to give her a new phone.

The perfect woman was not a spoiled princess.

Then, Chiyo ditched her, again.

Kokomi waited at that cafe, studying, ignoring her admirers, for nearly three hours straight.

Was it time well spent?

Of course. Without Chiyo to distract her with juicy school gossip, Kokomi was laser-focused on reviewing the topics for the last day of finals. Kokomi had gotten enough studying done that she was certain that she might even make top ten.

Which presented a moral dilemma.

Kokomi wanted to do well, academically. The higher the score, the better her chances are of getting into the college of her choice.

If she did too well, then her popularity would take a dip.

The perfect woman was not the type of person who made people feel small.

Plus, doing too well now might make it look like she was going to a certain college to chase after a certain pink-haired boy who was clearly beneath her. She did not want Saiki to end up thinking that she was pity-dating him.

Was she that hopeless?

No.

She was desperate.

His absence only made her obsess over him like a stalker with a restraining order.

Kokomi had found herself targeting hangout places that gave her an excuse to walk by his house. She had been doing this for several weeks. No doubt that their school friends did the same.

Opposite of what she recalled as a house full of warmth, cheer, food, and chattering of the happily married couple trying to egg their grumpy son into a smile, the Saiki domicile had become desolate in recent time. The lights in the house were rarely on, even at night. The light in Saiki's room was never on. The yard looked like it was rarely tended. There barely seemed to be any life.

Oh. And the rain.

It had been an incredibly wet spring. Kokomi had come home dripping wet more than a dozen times since when it rained, it poured. The rain was not that gentle drizzle that a stranger would find it easy to offer her an umbrella as a romantic gesture.

Not that she looked bad.

Never.

The perfect goddess was always perfect, even when soaked.

But Kokomi had to torture herself back into health each time she got wet since a cold almost immediately followed. She was not about to subjugate herself to her brother's terrible nursing skills, or miss school and make life horrible for her teachers and classmates because she wasn't there to brighten their day with her presence.

So there she goes again, stalking, with her school bag on a shoulder, walking a certain path so she could be just "passing by" Saiki's house and hoping that God was on her side to magically reveal Saiki to her.

God deserved to be slapped.

Kokomi did see Saiki's mother in the little courtyard, right behind the gate though.

It was the first time in a long while that Kokomi had seen Saiki's mother.

Saiki Kurumi looked very tired. She listlessly swept the small path that led from the gate to the front door, as if in a trance. Kurumi looked so tired that Kokomi suspected that the older woman did a few too many all-nighters.

Why would a suburban mom do an all-nighter? Who knows. But when Kurumi did not even look up when Kokomi greeted the woman, Kokomi assumed that the older woman did not hear her.

It was the middle of finals week and there were more pressing issues. Kokomi needed to go home, charge her phone, and call up her girlfriends, like Chisato-chan, and complain about Chiyo's betrayal. Kokomi won't bash Chiyo too badly, since Kokomi still considered Chiyo as a close friend and Chiyo was probably distracted by Kaidou, again. Kokomi had enough girlfriends who completely ghosted her the moment they made a boyfriend to expect it.

Speaking of boyfriends, even Imu-chan, a cute girl from second year, had gotten a boyfriend to her liking.

Imu-chan's said boyfriend was in the hospital, though. So Imu had been acting like the tragic heroine and spent time with him at the hospital. It sounded like her boyfriend came from a family of big shot doctors and the said boyfriend might not be bad marriage material.

The thought dampened Kokomi's mood.

How come such a perfect girl like Kokomi could not get the boy she wants? What about herself was not to Saiki's liking? Was it her height? Her weight? Her voice? Her breath? The color of her eyes? Her body odor?

Was it her gender?

Kokomi dismissed the last idea. She didn't need to become Makoto 2.0. Makoto already got on Saiki's nerves. Kokomi was sure that Makoto 2.0 was not going to improve her chances with the pink-haired boy.

Kokomi turned a corner almost too quickly.

She only saw a red necktie, the neckline of a starched white collared shirt, the standard salaryman's suit jacket before colliding against the knot of that tie with her forehead.

Oof!

Kokomi was so absorbed by her thoughts that she had run into this stupid human roadblock at full speed! Which was impressive, considering that Kokomi was used to dodging the paparazzi and had a sixth sense for people at all times.

Kokomi fell backward, almost to the point of falling on her ass.

No problem. All her training as a perfect pretty girl had prepared her for such a moment as this. Using her school bag as a counterbalance, she swung it around elegantly to regain balance.

Unfortunately, she hit something.

It was someone's grocery bags.

Normally, Kokomi had incredible patience. The perfect pretty girl was that female who would never lose her temper because she was so innocent, so kind, so nice that it was impossible for her to be angry.

But ever since that no-good-jerk-pink-haired boy decided to stop coming to school, and was replaced by that smelly-feet-metaphor freak Shinoda, Kokomi simply found every single day, trying not to let Shinoda bother her, just irritating.

And falling on her pretty buttocks was the last straw. She felt so angry that she only saw dark clouds.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, you...!"

"Seriously, Teruhashi-san," spoke a voice that seemed so familiar, yet, sounded so strange. There was a lack of hollowness about that voice. "You ran into me."

Whoever it was, was busy collecting the items that got thrown to the side from the errant whipping of the school bag.

That person had magenta-pink hair!

"Saiki-kun?"

The person had gathered up his stuff and stood back up.

Kokomi felt her initial smile morph and evolve into...

Wonder.

Saiki was taller, for one. Taller than she remembered. It seemed like he had hit a growth spurt in the weeks that he had been away. Either that or Kokomi got shorter.

The clothing that he wore was unusually formal, like he was working full time at an office building. It must've been a cold office building because he even wore black gloves to match. He still wore those green-tinted glasses though.

The hairpins were back on his head, even though Kokomi distinctively remembered that Saiki had stopped wearing the beginning of the school year. A perfect woman like her noticed all accessaries.

The hairpins, though, look slightly different. Instead of the white and blue hairpin base, they were black. The little pink balls at the end were the same as the one he had back in second year.

Saiki's expression was decidedly grim. Kokomi had known Saiki to have a resting bitch face, in that dissociative, don't-give-a-damn kind of way. Except for this time, there was an unusual sullenness to that expression.

It was then Kokomi mentally went into a panic.

Her perfect woman act! She was sitting on her buttocks! What if he had seen her underwear!? Her legs were not crossed demurely like a lady! How was she going to get him to like her if she was not perfect!?

While she was mentally berating herself for not being on top of her game in front of the boy she liked, she unconsciously felt him grabbed her hand, pulled her back on her feet.

For a long moment, Kokomi could only think of how her heart was pounding hard and loud. How his warmth had spread outside his gloves.

Kokomi suddenly wondered if she had put on deodorant (1) or if she used the right perfume that day. Did she put on extra lotion? To make sure that her skin was appropriately supple to look at and touch? What about lip balm? Or even lip gloss? What about makeup?

She wasn't prepared for her first meeting with Saiki again to be so imperfect!

She had so many questions to ask him. Like:

Where had he been?

Why was he out?

Why did he withdraw from school?

Never mind that they've snooped in his file. She had to play dumb. Saki wasn't supposed to find out.

What would he say if she tells him that she likes him? Would he say anything at all?

Did he even know how much agony that he had caused her by his sudden absence? How much that annoyed her?

Arg! She still hadn't said anything to him.

Her crush was right in front of her, after more than a month of absence and she had nothing to say to him!!!

Worthless mouth. Work!

"Your hair is longer," said Saiki, in his usual neutral manner.

Kokomi immediately looked down as she felt her face flush a little.

What if he only mentioned her hair because he didn't like the length?

If Kokomi looked up, and saw the looks of disapproval, she might really run the other direction in a panic and shave her head.

She was the perfect woman, and there was no way that anyone could dislike her hair. But with Saiki-kun, she was never certain.

Kokomi raised her arm to nervously pull at the ends of her hair strands. "Yeah. Well, I haven't cut it in a couple of months," she mumbled.

Stupid. Stupid! STUPID!!!

What kind of dumb ass, alluring, perfect woman response was that?!

Kokomi felt the air move about her.

He bowed and was going to walk right around her!

Unconsciously, Kokomi felt her body move out of its own accord and she hugged him from behind, to keep him from running away.

Why the hell was she acting like a despairing support actress in a shitty soap opera!?

Yes. This was extremely embarrassing for her.

Yes. Someone was probably taking blackmailing pictures right now.

But at that moment, she didn't care.

"I miss you," Kokomi blurted.

Saiki wasn't an illusion, like that day she discovered that she liked the quiet pink-haired boy. Or that one fantastic dream where they were the prince and princess of a castle.

No. She grabbed him and held him. He was warm. He was real. He smelled like tea and had an oddly foreign and adult manner about him, like he had to mature very quickly.

Saiki covered her hands with his own. It was light and gentle. It reminded her of the last time she walked him home and how elated she had been, childishly fantasizing about a future family with him and all the cute children they would have.

Kokomi felt her face flush deeply and it somehow reminded her of Chiyo. She remembered how Chiyo described her first alone study date with Kaidou, and how Chiyo looked like nearly melted.

Kokomi felt like melting right now.

"Get your hands off of her, you stinkin' four-eyes!"

Makoto!

At this moment, Kokomi was about to kick her annoying, interfering, no good older brother from here to Timbuktu! She was having a moment here! With the first boy she liked! Why was Makoto ruining it?!

Kokomi felt Makoto grabbed her arm and forcefully dragged her away. It had happened so fast that Kokomi did not have the time to process Makoto's actions or do something about them.

"What are you doing with her!?" Makoto demanded from behind his face mask. Makoto was in his standard disguise to ward away crowds of adoring female fans. Beanie hat, sunglasses, and face mask. "I take a longer job and you bewitch my sister the moment my back was turned!"

"O-nii-chan!" exclaimed Kokomi as she snatched her arms back, forcing Makoto to let go. "What are you doing here? I thought your filming schedule kept you occupied until next week."

"We finished early because Goriki-san isn't feeling well," said Makoto quickly. He turned to look at the pink-haired no-talent, useless four-eyes. "You better not be dreaming about hanging around my sister, four-eyes! She's too good for you!"

"O-nii-chan, stop it," said Kokomi in a placating tone. "Don't say such embarrassing, silly things."

Makoto was having none of it. "Yeah? Why is he all decked out in a suit and tie, then? He must be dressed to impress! You're trying to get my sister to fall in love with you, aren't you? You're just like one of her many suitors."

The said four eyes, rolled his eyes. He hefted his grocery bags, and began to walk away, completely ignoring the Teruhashi siblings.

"Hey, I'm not done talking to you!" Makoto declared with a grouchy expression on his face.

"O-nii-chan. Stop it. You're making a scene," said Kokomi, this time in a stern tone. She had to get the situation under control. Saiki was already walking away!

"Yeah. You better get out of here," called Makoto loudly. "You might be her friend, but she's not interested in you!"

The situation had devolved in a manner out of Kokomi's control. Hating the fact that she sounded desperate but wanting to spend a little more time with Saiki before he inexplicably disappeared again, she called out, "Wait! Saiki-kun! I..."

By then, Saiki had already turned the corner and out of sight, going toward the direction of his house. He did not even pause to throw a glance at her.

Kokomi stared at the street corner where Saiki slipped out of sight with an incredulous expression.

Her sweet person wasn't enough to make him standstill.

Over to the side, Makoto was looking mighty proud of himself for beating off another unworthy suitor. He reached over to grab Kokomi's hand. "Come on, Kokomi. Let's go home."

With a swing of her arm, Kokomi flipped his handoff.

"Why did you do that!?" Kokomi demanded.

Even though it was the second time that Kokomi had rejected his hand, Makoto did not think much of it. He had to protect Kokomi from unwanted attention and influence. "Well, that Saiki is..."

Kokomi did not allow Makoto to prove his reasons. "I like him!" Kokomi said through gritted teeth, making sure she was quiet enough to convey the message, but not too loud to be overheard out of an earshot. Kokomi felt her eyes begin to tear and her sinuses swell. She refused to cry though. She understood the effects of her tears on the surrounding populace. "Why did you have to tell him to leave!?"

Makoto seemed confused by her words. "You like him? But Kokomi. You like everybody. He's no different than the usual flies that buzz around you and you entertain them. I'm your O-nii-san. I have an obligation to protect you from the usual human trash."

Normally, Makoto's words did not have much of an impact on Kokomi. She was used to his usual nonsense and tolerated it since it generally came from a good place.

"But I really do like him," said Kokomi with clenched fists, feeling anger welling up. "I want him to like me!"

Makoto looked at his sister, realizing that she was near having a full meltdown, and backed off a bit. He needed to placate her, but still protect her from unnecessary heartbreak. "Kokomi-chan, you know that this is just an infatuation. He is a thing that you like now and discard later. I've seen you do this hundreds of times."

The words struck a chord within Kokomi. "What do you mean?" she asked with a slight quiver in her voice.

Without missing a beat, Makoto answered, " Well, you pretend to like someone, get what you wanted out of them, their adoration, their love, their gifts, get your thrill in, then move on. You do this all the time. We are Teruhashi. It's how the world works around us."

Kokomi looked stricken, and her expression twisted in a mixture of naked emotions.

"I simply think Saiki is the type who plays hard to get so you'd waste more time on him," Makoto continued saying. "I've seen the type. They're everywhere in the celebrity world. They are usually the shittiest actors and actresses but they act like they're so valuable and untouchable. They are the ones who manipulate others into thinking that they're more desirable than they truly are. They string people along, only to cut them loose or backstab them later when they got bored. I want to protect you from that."

Kokomi just stared at her brother, her expression slowly evolving into something unreadable.

"Look, you know that Saiki doesn't have anything to offer you," reasoned Makoto, "but he still acts so high and mighty around you. He's a measly high schooler, for god sakes." Makoto paused to let the words sink in. "You don't deserve that. You deserve someone far better, someone who knows your worth and can give you your worth. Didn't you say that the Saiko Conglomerate heir, Saiko Metori, is interested in you? Someone like that, or a real prince, is worthy of you. Especially me. I can make sure that you live in the lap of luxury and protect you for the rest of your life. That poor, stinkin' average, four eyes cannot offer you that. Wake up and know that this is just a fling."

Kokomi squeezed her eyes shut. Makoto was making too much sense for her.

Her heart though, did not want sense.

"I don't want a prince or a wealthy heir," said Kokomi in a hushed whisper. "Saiki Kusuo is who I like. I feel like I've liked him for so long that I would've known if it's just mere infatuation."

Makoto shook his head. "No, Kokomi-chan. You know I'm right. Stop wasting time on him. Don't let a piece of dung stain the magnificent wildflower that you are."

Damn metaphor, just like that jerk Shinoda!

"No! O-nii-san. You're wrong!"

At the formal address, Makoto's heart skipped a beat. Kokomi had only ever used the sweet, intimate '-chan' honorific with him before. It had been what made her so adorable and lovable. "Wha?"

"So what if whom I like is crap in your eyes?" Kokomi heard the pounding of her heart in her ears. She had never been so directly in conflict with her older brother. The perfect pretty girl got along with everyone, including her sibling. She simply had to charm her way into getting what she wanted.

What Makoto said was true. Most people are not worthy of her and generally, Kokomi let Makoto's ramblings go. Kokomi did superficially play with people's hearts. Getting people's adoration was a thrill, a validation of her person.

But hearing Makoto insult the boy she liked inexplicably enraged her. It was as if Makoto was insulting her person, her judgment, her good sense.

"I like what I like," said Kokomi. "And I want Saiki-kun to like me. But you made him leave!"

"Well...well...it's to protect you, Kokomi-chan."

"Protect me from what?"

"Well, he's obviously using you," said Makoto.

"For what? Saiki-kun is the only person I can approach knowing that he won't want something from me," said Kokomi shaking her head. "Even you can't do that."

Makoto's mouth dropped slightly as he comprehended her words.

"I hate that you would suggest that my real affection for someone is so misguided and fleeting," said Kokomi as she felt a pinch of tears in the corner of her eyes as feelings moved her mouth to say the next words. "I hate you, O-nii-san. I wish you would just go away!"

Makoto's heart was instantaneously shattered.

Kokomi stumped the other direction, and out of sight.

----

Kokomi found herself walking the neighborhood for a couple of hours after her encounter with her older brother, lost in thought.

Did she really like Saiki-kun? Or was it simply an infatuation, no different than a person being 'in love' with a TV personality?

Despite her vehement rejection, Kokomi knew there was a droplet of truth in that.

It was a thrill to be showered with adoration and gifts simply from her good looks and charm. Granted, she worked hard for that since she made a point to memorize details of the people around her, to keep up the facade. It took a lot of work to be so perfect. Experiencing the success of her hard work was an affirmation of her being.

Kokomi eventually found the neighborhood playground and sat on the swings. By then, it was dark and most people had gone home.

When was the last time she had a spat like this with Makoto?

Right. It was over Saiki.

Makoto had gone over to Saiki's house and threatened the pink-haired boy over Kokomi.

Kokomi had told him that she hated Makoto at the time.

Eventually, Makoto got over it. He simply loved his sister too much to stay mad at her. And Kokomi forgave him, too. At that time, Kokomi was simply embarrassed that Saiki would think that she was worried. Saiki was no one special, and did not deserve the attention of the goddess of the world. Kokomi was too good for him.

Kokomi wondered when that feeling changed?

Kokomi needed to talk to one of her girlfriends, to chat and process the event in the safety of a sympathetic ear.

Except that her phone was still dead.

Okay. This was it. She was going to charm the next person she sees into getting her a new phone. Or give her such a large discount that it would close to being free. She was too flustered to want to get it through her parents or Makoto.

To do that, she would need to go to a commercial district where people were still around.

Kokomi stood up, full of determination. She walked to the little gate of the playground and turned a corner.

And repeated the same thing she did earlier with the same young man.

This time. She did not fall over.

"You know, we got to stop meeting like this," said Saiki dryly as he grabbed her arm, preventing her from falling backward. "It's getting hazardous."

"Saiki-kun!"

Chapter Text

In most of Kokomi's interaction with Saiki, it had either been in the presence of their friend group or in some manner where Saiki wasn't paying direct attention to her.

During their spring break trip, when they did things like rowboats or camel riding together, they were distracted by their friend's antics. Kaido almost drowned when he fell off the rowboat and needed mouth to mouth from Hairo while Yumehara looked on and Nendou laughed his head off. Nendou was being carried by three camels while Hairo was trying to race the said camels. Their friends chattered about pillow fighting techniques, then boasting about who can eat desserts the fastest and completed on getting the biggest plushie from a claw machine.

When the two did homework or class project together, the only time that Saiki could have focused his attention on her, without the pesky interruption of their friends, Saiki had been busy doing the assignment. They divvied up the work and Saiki just plunged headlong, completely focused. It was not that Kokomi never saw studious people, focused and buried in work. She rarely saw people do so in front of her since they were always distracted by her beauty and generally tried to socialize with her instead.

Sure, Saiki did sort of "take her to a date" during second year, when Saiki did a "favor for Makoto" by telling her about Makoto's filming schedule. Kokomi had it framed in her head that it was simply a 'return favor' for her, to be the polite perfect girl when she really only participated to get that 'offu' from Saiki.

The so-called date was a near-complete disaster, where the only good thing that came out of it was a photo they took at a train station photo booth. It was a picture that she looked at when she wanted to gush over her crush in the privacy of her room.

Here, as rare as seeing a near-extinct animal, Saiki was a captive audience to her.

Kokomi felt blood rush to her cheeks.

Unlike earlier, he had changed out his clothes for something far more casual, comfortable and nondescript, dark-colored sweat pants and a lighter-colored sweater with plenty of pockets.

He reminded her of a drug mule, for some reason. He looked like the kind of people who wore baggy clothes because they were carrying 'goods' but needed to make sure that they draw the least amount of attention.

Did Saiki withdraw from school because he fell in with the bad crowd? That they were threatening him? That he was now part of a gang?

And there he went, walking away, again!

"Saiki-kun, wait!" cried Kokomi. This time, she grabbed his hand.

He did stop in his tracks, after he almost made her fall by how strongly he swung his arm forward.

His expression was unreadable, though it could be because of how dark it is.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Kokomi, feeling miffed at his curtness. "Are you this impolite with all women?"

He looked at her like she had grown a second head, in his usual, deadpan stare through those green glasses. "Most women don't walk into me."

"I didn't do it on purpose," snapped Kokomi.

"Oh really?"

The question gave Kokomi pause. Only Saiki could challenge her long-held beliefs that anyone and everyone would turn and gasp as she walked by, much less bow completely to her will. He belonged to the exceptions group, like those who were already in love, those with pure intentions, and the Saiki siblings, it seems.

"Well, if we're done here..." Saiki was saying, pulling his arm toward himself in such a way that Kokomi had to let go. He bowed politely, like he did earlier, turned on a heel, ready to go onward to wherever he was going to.

Instead of being flustered by his behavior, like how Kokomi usually reacted to his nonchalance, she only felt bubbling indignation.

The stress of Finals and that unpleasant encounter with Makoto tore at her resolve to maintain her perfect girl exterior. She had just defended Saiki in front of her no-good-sister-complex brother and nearly shed a tear, god damn it! Saiki should be feeling grateful toward her!

Kokomi stomped her pretty little feet, hands clenched at her side, and said, "Saiki Kusuo, I demand that you come over here and talk to me."

Saiki kept on walking as if he did not hear her, going toward the same park that Kokomi was at earlier.

Kokomi only glared at Saiki's retreating figure, the initial indignation growing to full-blown outrage, not so unfamiliar to how she reacted to him when they first became acquaintances, when none of her charms elicited any of the desired effects.

She had to get him to react to her. So she employed one of her secret weapons.

Angel's Woe.

Immediately, the few salarymen who were still loitering around within a ten-block radius, looked around as if astonished. The pubescent teenagers that were shaking the vending machines for drinks stopped their abuse of the rectangular blocks. Half drunk young professionals stopped drinking and stumbled from the bars toward her. Grandpas who were out watering their bonsais began to hobble towards the unspoken call of the most perfect woman in the world, ready to do her bidding.

"Oh...*sniff* Oh...*choke*. I only wanted to talk to my friend," cried Kokomi, alligator tears rolling down her face. The perfect woman knew how to cry on command. "But I can't find him."

"Well, where did he go?" cried someone from the crowd. "What does he look like?"

Kokomi gave rudimentary directions of where she last saw Saiki and descriptions his oh-so-obvious pink highlighter-colored hair while artfully covering her face with her hands as if deeply troubled by her predicament.

Kokomi secretly grinned behind her hands as the salarymen, the teenagers, the old grandpas, and young, drunken, unattached young men all spread out on the block, calling for "Teruhashi's friend."

She still had it.

Her minions would find Saiki for sure. Then she was going to give that no-offu-boy-whom-she-stupidly-defended-in-front-of-Makoto a piece of her mind.

It was a waste of a quarter of an hour and a waste of another quarter of an hour, placating her worshipful, contrite zombies.

What useless men! Now she had completely lost Saiki.

Kokomi eventually dismissed her Angel's Woe-struck zombies, telling them that She was certain that she would be able to find her friend tomorrow. The worshipful zombies gushed over her and gave her benedictions to do well on tomorrow's exam. At least one of them gave her a coupon for a new phone.

Arg! Almost an hour lost to nonsense! Now it had gotten so late that she better get home. She would need her rest in preparation for the last day of Finals.

It was still a bit of a walk before she could get to her house, if she wanted to stay on well-lit streets. She'd better go cut back through the park, even if it's a bit dark and there might be stalkers or paparazzi who could ambush her.

But she was Kokomi. She could handle any baddies who tried to take advantage of her.

She quickly made her way through the park, walking a path where she quickly paced from street lamp to street lamp. As confident as she was in handling herself in a bind, she was not about to carelessly open herself to danger. Plus, she had rarely been out this late at this park and there are some darker areas. It would be best if she went home quickly.

Then she must've tripped on a pebble or something that was near one of those benches underneath a park street lamp.

Suddenly, Saiki appeared again.

One moment, he was not there, the next moment, he was there, sitting on the bench with his foot sticking out just far enough for her to trip. The manner of his appearance reminded her of teleporters in sci-fi movies like Star Trek.

It must've been a trick of the light.

Kokomi would've rubbed her eyes, exclaimed 'Saiki!' adorably, or say a benediction like 'Fortune has brought us back together again,' all to bewitch him into saying an 'offu' to her.

Except, she was painfully aware that she probably flashed him for the second time that day because when she fell, her body turning into an upside-down U-shape as he caught her by her stomach before pulling her back to a standing position. With the ridiculous shortness of the school uniform's skirt and Kokomi's habit of not wearing boyshorts underneath since it added the wrong proportions to her appearance, Kokomi was certain that the angle of how he caught her surely revealed her lacy pink panties.

Her face did not hit the pavement, but she almost wished she did. She had the most unladylike thought of -he's going to say 'offu,' right? My panties are worth at least one 'offu' right?- followed by, -How desperate can I get?!-

"Seriously?" said Saiki, his tone indicated that he was disgruntled by the happenstance of meeting the most perfect girl in the world for the third time that day. "I can't get away from you, can I?"

Kokomi took a while to gather herself, getting over the fact that she had walked into him twice and just now, tripped over his feet.

As for Saiki, he seemed as grumpy, no, grumpier, than ever. He had a graphed-ruled notebook on his lap, a pen and another notebook with nonsensical mathematical formulas scrawled all over both the notebook and paper.

Meanwhile, Saiki mumbled, "This is what I get for going back to school and trying to jump through the hoops. God hates me."

Kokomi feeling much of her obsession with Saiki quickly fade into dislike.

What was with this boy?

Weren't they at least friends?

Why did he act like she was so odious?

Couldn't he at least pretend to be polite to her?

"Saiki-Kusuo, why the hell are you like this?" demanded Kokomi.

That pink-haired idiot only sat there, appropriately silenced like a penitent boy.

Kokomi drew herself up, standing before Saiki, her arms crossed, continued on her advantage. "You disappear on us! Didn't you know that you worry the hell out of your friends?!" Kokomi felt simmering anger in her heart at her next words. "You worry the heck out of me! I kept on thinking that you got sick, or you got run over, or that you got kidnapped or that you've died."

Saiki still did not look at her.

Kokomi softened her next few words, "What happened to you?" Kokomi now felt the stabs in the heart when she previously imagined all the horrible scenarios happening to the boy she liked. "We thought the worst had happened to you when Shinoda took your seat and the teacher said that you've withdrawn! Kaidou shared with us your cell number, but you never responded. We even..." Kokomi did not continue the next train of thought. She was furious at his treatment of him, but not furious enough to reveal that she and their close friends had stolen his school files and looked through them.

Stupid Saiki. He was now staring at her, like she was some sort of car wreck and he was a rubber-necking passerby, mildly curious and uncaring.

"Why aren't you saying anything!?" Kokomi demanded.

Saiki only continued staring at her.

Kokomi, impatient, used one of her guilt-trip perfect pretty girl tactics. "Aren't I at least a friend? Aren't I at least worth an explanation?"

Confront with silence, Kokomi only felt exasperation with him.

"Fine. Don't say anything," said Kokomi, ready to stump away. She was going to go home, scream at and punch the crap out of her pillow, pretend that it was Saiki, then forget about him.

No mere boy was going to make her lose her composure again. She was Teruhashi Kokomi. She did not get frustrated when the boy she liked could not give her the time of day. She was better than that. She decided she was going to give Saiki a taste of his own medicine by walking away from him .

Before she was out of an earshot, though, she heard the next set of words.

"Why do you care?"

-Because I like you more than anyone else! You dumb boy!- thought Kokomi. She could not but resist turning around and said, "We're friends! Of course, I care."

"You can care, but you can't do anything," said Saiki, looking down at his notebook of nonsensical scrawls. He lightly touched the gibberish, tracing the symbols.

It was then that Kokomi noticed that he wore a gray ring on his right forefinger, due to how it caught the light of the street lamp.

Kokomi had seen him wear that ring, from time to time. Mostly back in second year. It was odd, since Kokomi swore that it was a germanium ring, one of those cheap health fads that sneaky door-to-door salesmen sold to unsuspecting wives and sponsored by idols. It was one of the unique fashion choices that Saiki was known for, kinda like how Kaidou was known for those red bandages.

"Only family can do anything," Saiki said, more to himself than to her, as he stuck his paper in his notebook and closed it. The cover of the notebook was blue, and had scuffed and darken splotches from use. A child's doodle of a cat was on a corner of the cover.

"What the heck are you talking about?" asked Kokomi.

Saiki was not paying attention to her. He placed the pen in the kangaroo pouch of his sweater. There appeared to be an inner carrying compartment in that sweater that he wore and he tucked the notebook into that storage space.

"It's...nothing," said Saiki. He looked at her, his expression morphed back to that nonchalance that Kokomi was used to seeing. "It's late. You should go home. Last day of finals is tomorrow."

-I'm out here in the first place because of you, jackass!- Kokomi wanted to shout at him. Couldn't he see how distressed she was?

Apparently. He did.

"It's pretty dark through here. I'll walk you home."

Kokomi resisted the urge to smile, to cheer, to turn a complete 180 on her mood. Another rare, romantic stroll with just two of them. No. She was still miffed by Saiki's terrible attitude.

"No," said Kokomi. "You are not going to walk me home or go anywhere until you've told me where you've been and why you've been gone."

There was a moment of silence from Saiki after the ultimatum had been delivered. The air was tense. He better beg, on his knees, for forgiveness and verbally flagellate himself to get back to her good graces.

"Walk yourself home, then."

Kokomi was not sure what possessed her to do the next thing, but she could only feel rage overwhelm her, blinding and rendered useless all her training as the perfect pretty girl. Before she knew what she was doing, she already raised a hand, a snarl on her face.

And slapped him.

Ouch!

Were all guy's faces that hard?

She felt like she had just smashed her hand against a statue that's been baking in the sun, or a cast-iron pot that was just used for boiling water.

Kokomi bit her tongue so she did not hiss and ungainly flick her hand to dissipate the pain.

She could feel her hand pulsate from the brutal contact.

-Stupid, dumb, idiot, retard, asshole, jerk, -insert-all-name-calling-the-most-perfect-woman-in- the-world-could-come-up-with- Saiki!- Kokomi screamed in her head.

"You shouldn't do that," was all Saiki said before he reached over for Kokomi's inflamed and stinging hand and held it.

It must've been the power of love, because all of the sudden, the pain was gone.

"How...?"

"Don't think too hard about it," said Saiki.

Kokomi felt her face flush again and her face twisted in a confounded manner.

Saiki was holding her hand.

Kokomi felt so conflicted.

She wanted to retract her hand in indignation and wanted to squeeze his hand back at the same time.

No boy had ever been so infuriating, not even children who told her to be quiet and call her an old lady. When other boys gasped and had an unrealistic expectation of her, Kokomi only felt annoyed and afire by the challenge of winning approval.

Saiki, though, had no expectations from her.

It made being around Saiki many times more difficult.

Kokomi's world was one she knew that everyone and anyone could like her, whether because they got a smile from her or was graced by her presence.

But it seemed like no matter how hard she tried, she could never figure out what made Saiki happy outside the mundane like cakes and varieties of sweets. Those, he could get from a store if he so chose.

How could Kokomi win Saiki's approval, if he never wanted anything from her?

How could she get him to smile?

They were walking, by now. Kokomi was so lost in her thoughts that she was not even sure where he was leading her. They were going around the winding path of the park, eventually leading out to the regular road and back driveways, the surrounding landmarks become more and more familiar to Kokomi.

"Saiki-kun," Kokomi found herself saying, breaking the silence, "What has happened to you?"

Saiki kept on walking, but eventually, he did say, "Too much."

"What?"

"Too much has happened," he said simply.

It was only then that Kokomi noticed the dark circles beneath Saiki's eyes and an ashen pallor about his complexion. As expressionless as Saiki had always been, there was that unmistakable touch of a dull ache about him.

"You want to talk about it?" asked Kokomi softly.

The answer was expectedly terse. "No."

Kokomi wanted to guess, to start listing an entire novel-length of what could have happened. Instead, she asked him the one thing that could put her mind at ease. "Can you at least tell me if you're okay? That, you're not in trouble with the law, or anything?"

"I'm okay." Saiki reached up in a rare gesture, fussed with his hairpins. He seemingly grimaced as he minutely adjusted them. "For now."

It seemed like that was as much as Saiki would tell her. As the perfect woman, Kokomi knew when to stop asking questions.

All men were like that. Men liked to figure things out on their own, pride in their independence or whatnot. Kokomi certainly heard enough from all her girlfriends on how dumb all men were, even when their significant other (i.e., girlfriend) would gladly help, without prejudice.

Interestingly, Saiki asked about her instead. "Why are you out here so late?"

In all of Kokomi's recollections, Saiki had never asked the "why" to anything. Saiki had always seemed so uninterested and unexcited by anything. So the question caught her off guard.

It took Kokomi a while, but did eventually tell him of the exchange she had with Makoto earlier. She talked around the event, coming up with whatever excuses she could think of at the moment. She did not want Saiki to know what she had fought Makoto, or that Makoto accused her of viewing Saiki as a cheap thrill.

Saiki was not a temporal toy. He's an important friend, one whom the faintest change in expression affected her, instead of the other way around. If Kokomi's feelings were to be reciprocated, hopefully, he would become Kusuo-kun to her.

But the seed of doubt had been sowed.

Was this really just a fling?

Was he just a challenge to overcome?

"So you told him that you hated him, over a daikon radish?" asked Saiki, looking, for the first time that she could recall, confused.

Kokomi was immediately dragged back into the details of the conversation. What type of nonsense did she make up? Her mouth was so busy filling the awkward air between them that she was not sure what she said.

Oh well. Just run with it. Saiki was always good at just accepting her words at face value. Heck, he was even fell asleep once time, in a bathroom, of all places, all because he said so.

"Daikon doesn't belong in curry," said Kokomi with authority. "He kept on saying it's best in curry, without even being peeled." Kokomi continued to expound on the sins of using a radish-type of vegetable in curry, and how beets turn curry into a completely unappetizing color.

By now, Kokomi was just following Saiki along. It was like the old days, when she would follow him, along with their friends, just going from one place to the next, chatting about this and that. Their earlier conflict was seemingly forgotten.

Saiki had his hand in his pockets. The outline of the pocket appeared to show him absently fidgeting with something.

Saiki always struck her as the intellectual type prone to restlessness.

At some point, Saiki sighed and stopped in his tracks.

Kokomi's heart immediately jumped. What now? Was temperamental, jackass Saiki from earlier back to torment her?

"You probably should apologize to Makoto," said Saiki.

Kokomi puckered her lips petulantly. "Why?"

"Do you seriously want your last words to your older brother to be 'I hate you?'"

Kokomi grumbled, her arms crossed. Still quite displeased that Makoto broke such a sweet moment between her and Kusuo.

"He will get over it," Kokomi offered.

"But you might not," said Saiki.

Kokomi pursed her lips irritably. Since when did Saiki become one of these adults who gave these dreary, fake profound questions? Where was Saiki, the excellent, sympathetic listener to whom anyone can tell anything to? "What do you mean, Saiki? Why do you care about what I say to Makoto? You know why I've said that. Your older brother is the same! They're both perverted creeps who cause endless trouble."

The stare that Saiki had seemed unusually intense.

And when did the wind pick up?

"You're right," said Saiki. "Forget that I've said anything."

Kokomi huffed in satisfaction. That was right. That was something that they had in common. Creepy, obsessed, nutty older brothers who existed to make their lives miserable. That commonality had to bring her and Saiki-kun closer, right? They should compare notes.

"What was the last thing you've said to your older brother?" inquired Kokomi, feeling that she was at her advantage.

Saiki frowned then. Seemingly trying to remember. "It's 'Whatever. Go away.'"

Ah-ha! Saiki was in the same situation as Kokomi. "So you had to verbally beat him back, like I had to, with Makoto."

Saiki seemed to be in a depreciating mood. "It was nothing like that," said Saiki with a shake of his head. "It was months ago. He had just dropped a box on my desk and gave me one of his long-winded explanations about the devices that were in the box. And I only said, 'Whatever. Go away.'"

"And did he listen?"

Saiki chuckled. There was a darkness in that sound. "Yeah. He did." His next words were very quiet. "We never spoke to each other again."

"Well, I wish it was that easy with Makoto," said Kokomi testily.

They were near the Teruhashi house now.

Well, a mansion was more like it.

The two-story, coral stucco, french windows and neatly manicured topiaries, high walls and grassed lawn was a house that simply indicated "wealthy."

There was a weird, nail-on-the-chalk-board mewling noise coming from the mansion.

Kokomi only felt a sense of blanket dread as she recognized the noise for what it was.

Makoto was bawling in his room like a tortured cat puking out its innards.

Although the Teruhahi home plot was large enough to have decent separation from neighbors, Kokomi clearly heard one of their neighbors shouting, "SHUT UP!" and a "Who is gutting a pig out there?"

Kokomi stood before the gate of her home, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

How was she supposed to sleep with that awful howling in the background?

"Just apologize," said Saiki, seemingly reading her thoughts. "At least you'll sleep better."

Fat chance. If Kokomi apologized, Makoto would probably take it the wrong way. Makoto would probably try to cuddle up against her in her bed. Then she had to beat him out of her room. Not exactly what she was looking forward to at this time.

And while Kokomi was busily mulling over the disaster that was Makoto, Saiki, with his escort service over, was taking the opportunity to sneak away.

"Wait. Saiki-kun," called Kokomi. "You're coming back to school, right?"

Saiki nodded.

Kokomi felt incredibly relieved to hear that. "Then I'll see you tomorrow?"

Saiki gave a noncommittal shrug. "Maybe." Repeating a similar gesture from earlier, he bowed politely. "Good night. Teruhashi-san."

---

Later that night, Kokomi made up with Makoto, which made Makoto turned creepy again.

He did her laundry for which he completely ruined one of her cute red outfits.

He cooked her a late supper. The strawberry bowl was inedible due to the liberal sprinkle of salt.

He did try to sleep in her room, for which, the Kokomi clearly made sure he squealed like a pig as she gave him another blistering set of words, but she at least avoided the word "hate."

By the time it was all said and finished, Kokomi had been run ragged.