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Chapter Text

Akira had been at his new school for less than an hour before he got cornered.

He’d been expecting it, in all honesty. When he stepped through the gates this morning, the other students recoiled from him like he was a rabid dog, disdain and morbid fascination in their eyes as they whispered behind their hands. He caught things like ‘I heard he did drugs!’ or ‘he beat an old man almost half to death; he was even hospitalised!’ or even ‘I heard he drives a car without a license!’ but it all boiled down to the same thing: Akira was shunned before he even said a word, and that meant he was now easy prey. 

Fearsome reputation or not, it didn’t seem to protect him when he was literally ambushed on his way to class. He didn’t even get a chance to defend himself - just felt a strong hand fist the back of his blazer and haul him into a cramped alcove, his back shoved against the wall and a dark shadow looming over him. 

“Akira Kurusu,” his attacker said, all but purring every syllable in his name. His attacker was tall, presumably a third-year, with soft looking honey-brown hair and dark brown eyes that glinted red underneath the fluorescent lighting. His face had a certain softness to it that at first glance seemed gentle, but Akira could see the amused smirk curling the third-year’s mouth, sharp and showing just enough teeth to be threatening. 

“Hi,” Akira said, his voice a bit breathy but still managing to sound deadpan.

The third-year tilted his head a fraction. 

His attacker wore the black version of Shujin’s turtleneck, and it went very well with the school blazer - which had the topmost button undone, Akira noticed, the sleeves rolled up an inch below the elbows. Toeing the line of compliance to the uniform regulations, but flaunting them at the same time. 

“Hm,” the third-year finally eased back from his domineering posturing, his piercing glare relaxing into something more neutral, “Exaggerated rumours, then.” 

Akira stared at him questioningly, but the third-year didn’t elaborate. After giving him one last look, the third-year turned and walked away, a confident edge to his strut. The students that had been hovering around the edges, watching in avid interest, instantly scattered like startled animals from the third-year’s path, stammering apologies. 

Feeling very much like he had just dodged a bullet, Akira shakily straightened out his blazer and continued to class, hunching his shoulders against the renewed stares and whispers of his peers. 

Later, he learned that the third-year was Goro “The Tiger” Akechi, a delinquent who ruled the school with an iron fist. Sure, the Student Council handled the majority of the students’ affairs, but if another school started harassing any of the students, or bullying went a step too far, that was when the Tiger intervened and forcibly established order.

So, when rumours of a violent transfer student with a criminal record started circulating, of course the Tiger was going to come sniffing. Akira was both relieved and insulted that Akechi had taken one look at him and thought him unworthy of his infamy. 

Okay, so maybe he was mostly insulted. Akira knew the glasses were meant to make him seem harmless, but come on… 

Maybe that bruised pride was why Akira sought Akechi out a few days later. The whispers and glares hadn’t abated in the slightest, despite Akechi pretty much declaring him harmless, but Akira was slowly becoming desensitised to it. It was lonely, but he could handle isolation and a few cruel words here and there. 

(or so he told himself)

Akechi spent his lunch on the roof, despite it being out of bounds to students. Akira was kind of relieved, it meant it would just be them with no students about to gawk like Akira was an escaped zoo animal and they were waiting for him to leap onto a table and bite the head off a chicken or something. 

“The roof is out of bounds,” was the first thing out of Akechi’s mouth, when Akira scuttled onto the roof like a mouse into a tiger's den. 

Akira ignored the statement, taking Akechi in. The delinquent looked much the same as their first meeting, half-unbuttoned blazer, partially rolled up sleeves, a soft face that belied the ruthless intelligence in those dark eyes. This time instead of looming threateningly over Akira, Akechi was seated on a chair, papers and an open textbook on the desk that was randomly on the roof. 

“Are you doing your homework?” Akira asked curiously. 

Akechi frowned at him, tapping his pen idly against his book. 

“What do you want, Kurusu?” the delinquent demanded. 

“I want to know why you dismissed me,” Akira said, not cowed by the dark glare Akechi was throwing him. He straightened up from his slouch, fidgeting with his fringe as he muttered, “Everyone else thinks I’m a psycho.”

Akechi stared at him for a long moment, his unwelcoming expression shifting into something unreadable. 

“...if you haven’t noticed,” Akechi said, “Everyone in this school, except for myself and perhaps Niijima, are morons. You don’t have a cruel bone in your body.”

“That’s… you don’t even know me?” Akira blustered.

“I know what a true ‘psycho’ looks like,” Akechi muttered, his attention drifting back to his homework - but only for a moment. That strange, almost melancholy expression on his face vanished as his gaze snapped back to Akira, piercing and contemplative.

“Are the other students bothering you?” Akechi asked, “Tch, I bet they are. Vapid gossips, the lot of them. If they paid more attention to their studies instead of preying on another's reputation like a flock of vultures, they might actually get somewhere in life.”

“Uh, no, they’re not… bothering me. They don’t even talk to me,” Akira admitted, finding himself both fascinated and confused by this dreaded ‘Tiger’. Akechi didn’t seem like a terrible, violent delinquent to him. A little intimidating, sure, but… 

“Ostracisation is still harassment, Kurusu,” Akechi said slowly, like he was explaining this to a child, “But whatever. It’s to be expected with sheep like them.” 

Akechi tapped his pen against the edge of his desk, his gaze shifting from his book to Akira. He was clearly considering something.

Clearly making his mind up, Akechi kicked out the vacant chair opposite him. Its legs screeched against the floor from the violent movement, making Akira flinched; “Sit down.”

“What?” Akira blurted. 

“Sit down,” Akechi ordered, shooting him an irritable frown, “What, you have a hearing problem?”

Akira quickly sat down on the chair. 

“Do your homework,” Akechi ordered again, pinning him with an intense stare until Akira obeyed, “You’ll eat your lunch here from now on, understand?”

Akechi’s tone said he expected full compliance. Akira was too bewildered and mystified to even think about being contrary, “Uh, okay?”

“Good.” 

Akira took out his homework - which he had been planning to do later that night anyway - and stared at Akechi, pen in hand. The dreaded Tiger just ignored him, focused on his own work. There was a yakisoba pan next to the delinquent’s elbow, and occasionally Akechi would pick it up, his gaze not wavering from his work, and take a bite. 

is this… is he trying to make friends with me? Akira thought blankly.

He didn’t get an answer, but Akechi did glare at him when he caught him staring, so Akira hurriedly ducked his head and started on his homework. He found himself smiling, strangely - relieved, that was all. Relieved he didn’t have to keep hiding away during lunch time to avoid the stares and whispers. 

The rest of their lunch break passed by in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

After a month, Akira still didn’t know if him and Akechi were ‘friends’, exactly, but they did spend every lunch break together, and the rest of the student body picked up on that. The stares and whispers that followed him changed - softer, quieter words, uneasy and less inflammatory than before. No one wanted to piss off the Tiger, and with Akira’s relationship to him being so ambiguous, the gossips decided to err on the side of caution. 

And while that was fortunate in its own way, it was unfortunate in others. 

Such as- 

“Oof!”

Akira grunted when someone ran headlong into him in the school corridor, only just catching himself at the last second - though he couldn’t say the same for the person who ran into him. Short, dark hair, with a small, skinny frame and a bruised face that looked as skittish and on edge as a rabbit in a fox den, Akira recognised him from his homeroom class: Mishima, or something like that. 

“Hey, you okay?” Akira asked, already holding a hand out. 

“I-I’m-” Mishima stopped when he looked up and realised who, exactly, he had crashed into. His face, already pale, turned the same shade as curdled milk. 

“I’m sorry!” Mishima yelped, scrambling to his feet and giving him a quick bow of apology. Akira recoiled from sheer surprise, “I wasn’t looking where I was going- I-I was late to practice, Kamoshida doesn’t like- I’m sorry, don’t- don’t tell Tiger I was…”

“Huh? Wha? It’s okay? I forgive you?” Akira stammered, blinking rapidly when Mishima gave him another low bow and then fled from him like the hounds of hell themselves were at his heels. Akira gaped after him. 

What the hell was that about?!

Akira scratched his head, confused, but tentatively let it go. Mishima always seemed like the highly-strung sort - though, it was the first time Akira had interacted with him and got a good look at his face. Where did all those bruises come from? Volleyball practice? What, did he catch the ball with his face?

He frowned. 

He went up to the rooftop for lunch as per usual, where Akechi was already waiting. He wasn’t working on his homework this time, instead he was idly sketching something in his notebook. When he heard Akira approach, though, he quickly closed his book. Akira only managed to glimpse something that looked like a horned monster with a wide, fanged smile. 

“Hey,” Akira said, sliding into his usual seat opposite Akechi, “I have a question.” 

“Hm?” Akechi shoved his notebook side, and took out his homework.

“I ran into Mishima earlier,” Akira began, watching Akechi flip his workbook to the appropriate page. It was mathematics, “And he was acting really weird.”

“Who the hell is Mishima?” Akechi asked. 

“Short dark hair, kinda mousey, part of the volleyball team,” Akira paused and added, “Always looks like he catches the volleyball with his face.”

Akechi paused, and slowly looked up at Akira from beneath his eyelashes. His expression was utterly neutral. 

“...what’s your question?” Akechi asked. 

“Is that normal?” Akira asked, and elaborated when Akechi gave him an unimpressed look, “I mean, he always seems to have bruises. I only really noticed it today, though. But… that’s weird? And he was so skittish too.”

Akechi said nothing for a long moment. 

“...Kamoshida’s ‘volleyball practice’,” he practically snarled the term, “Is nothing more than an excuse to belittle and abuse his students. Everyone knows about it.”

Akira stared at him. 

“What… what the fuck?” Akira blurted, rising from his seat, “But- the police?!” 

“Everyone knows about it,” Akechi repeated, giving him a pitying look, “You think parents weren’t concerned when their children came home with bruises and, on the odd occasion, broken bones? Or, you’d expect, hm? Admittedly, I’m no expert on stable households.”

What the hell did that mean? No, Akira will unpack that later. Firstly; “So, what? Everyone ignores it? Even you?”

“I’m just a delinquent student with little to no power in the situation, though your faith in me is flattering,” Akechi drawled, but Akira could see the tension in his expression, hear the loud drumming of his fingers against the desk, “Of course I don’t ignore it, Kurusu. But I can only do so much when the teachers, parents and the fucking police all turn a blind eye.” 

“That’s…” Akira was floored, “That’s fucked up.” 

Akechi grunted, and his fingers stopped drumming. He was giving Akira that piercing, contemplative look again. 

“...I do have a plan,” Akechi said, “It’s a work in progress, though.”

“And you just said you had no power in this situation,” Akira said, “What is it?”

“It’s a secret,” Akechi said like the asshole he was, but he was smiling- no, smirking, a mocking, teasing smirk that was a little softer around him, “But… once I have some things in place, I might share it with you.” 

Akira felt a bit put out, but then again, Akechi didn’t have to tell him he had a plan at all, so satisfied himself with that bit of sharing; “Okay. I trust you to sort it out, then.”

Akechi gave him an unreadable look, but it seemed… 

“...shouldn’t you do some studying?” Akechi said, forcibly shunting their conversation onto more familiar grounds, “I heard you almost failed your mock-exam a few days ago.”

“I-I didn’t! It was… it counted as a pass!”

“Study, Kurusu.” 

Akira sighed and did as he was told, taking out his books and notes - and in the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flash of movement. When he turned his head, he saw a cat, black-furred with brilliant blue eyes, slink out of sight behind the small garden the roof had. Akira stared after it for a few seconds before refocusing on his book. Just a cat. 

Chapter Text

Kamoshida confessed his crimes and new rumours cropped up in their wake. 

Akechi was given a wider berth and regarded with more fearful reverence because of it. After all, everyone knew that after Suzui’s attempted suicide, Koyanagi overheard the Tiger speaking to a distraught Takamaki afterwards that he will ‘deal with it’. Of course, as all ‘so-and-so heard such-and-such say this-and-that’ stories go, the exact words Akechi had said were comically exaggerated and the entire scene itself had been warped beyond all recognition. 

(the more romantic gossips gushed at how Takamki had tearfully clung to the Tiger’s half-unbuttoned blazer, all but swooning into the his arms, shoujo sparkles and roses and all, as the Tiger gruffly swore he’ll avenge her friend, because he really did have a heart of gold beneath the cold, prickly exterior and...well.)

In short: everyone agreed Goro “The Tiger” Akechi had been stirred into action by Kamoshida upsetting Takamaki, who everyone knew was a loose whore who could charm any man into doing her bidding just by fluttering her eyelashes. How romantic! How scary! Who knew the Tiger was so easily manipulated by such a pretty face? Maybe he’s getting soft? Oh, but he blackmailed Kamoshida into a shaking wreck, so maybe he isn’t! What if he’s Yakuza?!

Akira couldn’t believe it. 

“They think she’s your girlfriend,” he told Akechi four days after Kamoshida’s public confession, where the rumours had really hit their fantastical stride, “And that you’re the secret lovechild of a Yakuza boss who intimidated Kamoshida into prison.”

“What? Who’s my what now?” Akechi asked absently, clearly only paying half-attention. He was frowning at what looked like floor plans to somewhere, arrows with shorthand annotations dotted around it. Akira saw a lot of ‘???’s. 

“Takamaki.”

“Who?” Akechi looked up at that, but answered before Akira could open his mouth, “Oh, the blond girl.” 

“Yeah.”

“What about her?” Akechi asked, clueless. 

“You weren’t listening to me?” Akira mock-pouted, resting his chin on an upturned palm as he glanced away from the delinquent, “Pfff… and you say I have a hearing problem.”

“You do have a hearing problem. It’s called ‘giving a shit about what brainless morons say’,” Akechi drawled sarcastically, “What are you doing listening to their gossip, Kurusu? You should know better.”

“It’s entertaining,” Akira said innocently.

“It’s annoying,” Akechi returned flatly, “Which you should know, being on the wrong end of them yourself.”

Ack, fair point. Akira winced at the reprimand, but bravely ploughed on beneath the heavy weight of Akechi’s glare, “But, is it true?”

“Is what true?” Akechi smiled meanly, his eyes heavy-lidded as he stared Akira down with an unreadable look, “That Takamaki is my girlfriend?”

“You blackmailing Kamoshida,” Akira said, then added; “And the Takamaki thing too, yeah.”

“Kurusu,” Akechi sighed, “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“You have sat in that seat,” Akechi continued, pointing his pen at the offending seat in question which Akira currently occupied, “Every day for the last two months to stare at me-”

“I didn’t stare at you,” Akira protested, “Er, much. Anyway, you told me to do that.”

“-and not once has Takamaki shown up,” Akechi gave him a withering look, “Wouldn’t I spend my lunch breaks with my girlfriend over some stray I picked up? Honestly, Kurusu.”

“Who’re you calling a stray?” Akira mock-whined, feeling pleased when Akechi smiled in amusement at him. He always did like it when Akira got whiny and pouty at him, “You forcibly adopted me. Not that I’m complaining.”

“ I should complain. You’re a troublesome pet,” Akechi said, but his tone was teasing, “But, in case I haven’t drilled it into your skull yet - no, I’m not dating Takamaki.”

“Well, you should tell that to Shujin then,” Akira said, “Everyone’s made up some super dramatic romance story of how Takamaki swooned into your arms and begged you to deal with Kamoshida-”

Akira cut himself off when Akechi made an expression like he’d just stepped into a steaming pile of shit. 

“First of all,” Akechi began frostily, “There was no swooning. Secondly, Takamaki was a bit occupied over the fact that her best friend just tried to commit suicide, and thirdly-!”

Akira held up his hands in surrender, “I’m just the messenger!”

“Then don’t deliver shitty messages!” Akechi snapped, tapping his pen agitatedly against the desk, “Ugh, shit. I didn’t expect it to splashback on her like this…”

Akira watched Akechi frown at his open notebook, with its mysterious floor plans and equally unknowable annotations. Akira could practically see the thoughts race through the delinquent’s mind, no doubt puzzling over how to solve this problem. 

“...who’re the main instigators of these rumours?” Akechi finally asked, looking up at him. 

“Well, everyone says Koyanagi overheard your talk with Takamaki,” Akira snitched loyally, “Whoever that is.”

“Koyanagi… hm, she’s a third-year,” Akechi muttered, something dark and malicious passing through his expression, “What a surprise, they should be well-trained by now…”

“Well-trained?”

“Know their place,” Akechi clarified, “Ugh. Troublesome. I hate these damned vultures.” 

“They always need someone to tear down,” Akira muttered bitterly, “Anyone who sticks out…”

Akechi was giving him one of those unreadable looks again. 

“...Kurusu,” he started, “You-”

The door to the roof slammed open, cutting off whatever Akechi was about to say. Akira hunched down in his seat, and Akechi straightened up with a ferocious scowl - that eased into something more annoyed and confused when Takamaki herself stormed towards them, her chin held high and her eyes narrowed in anger. 

“What’s this about me being your girlfriend!?” she snarled once she reached their desk, her hands on her hips as she squared up to the Tiger. Akira watched with the same avid interest one would reserve for spectating a fight between two grizzly bears. 

Akechi gave her a deadpan look. 

“I don’t know, Takamaki,” he said, his voice drier than the desert, “What is this about you being my girlfriend?”

“Everyone said-” she stopped and stared at Akira, as if only just realising he was there. Did he really project that little of a presence? “Wait, who’re you?”

“I… sit behind you in class,” Akira said, perplexed, “Akira Kurusu, the transfer student?” 

“Oh,” Takamaki squinted at him for a moment, then turned back on Akechi, “Anyway! Everyone keeps asking me about how you swept me off my feet after Shiho- after she- ugh! I’m too angry to repeat it!”

“I’m not exactly happy about it either, Takamaki,” Akechi growled, “No offence, but you are the furthest thing from my type.” 

“Hey, what’s wrong with me?” Takamaki protested, “Is it the hair? The eyes?”

Akechi looked like he was contemplating murder. 

“Uh,” Akira tried to intervene, “I don’t think that matters. Takamaki, I heard it was Koyanagi that started the rumours. You should probably aim your anger towards her.”

“Koyanagi?” Takamaki made a face, “Ugh, she would make something like that up.” 

“Not to worry, I will remind her of her place in due course,” Akechi purred, his voice silky with danger. The smile he gave Takamaki had too much teeth, “The students of Shujin have been getting a little too bold, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s probably because you keep spending your time hiding away up here,” Takamaki said bluntly, her gaze flicking back to Akira. She looked thoughtful, “I thought you were getting burnt out terrorising people, but it turns out you made a friend, huh?”

“Oh, we’re-” Akira started, only to falter when he realised he didn’t know what they were exactly. Friendly acquaintances? Sort of friends? Casual confidants?

“Friend?” Akechi scoffed, “He’s just a stray I picked up.” 

“Uh huh,” Takamaki looked far too knowing, “Just a stray. Right.” 

“For the record,” Akira told Takamaki, “He forcibly adopted me- ow!”

Akechi retracted his foot from where he’d stomped it onto Akira’s toes, “In any case,” he said over Akira’s exaggerated whine of pain, “You’re right. I have been neglecting my duties in whipping these useless students into shape.” 

“I mean, it doesn’t bother me if you start beating people up behind the bike shed again,” Takamaki said indifferently, “Just don’t give people the impression you’re some Yakuza love interest from a bad shoujo manga.” 

Akira coughed into his hand when Akechi made a face at that, and didn’t bother hiding his grin when the delinquent shot him a scowl. In Akira’s defence, Akechi really did look like he stepped out of a shoujo manga, with his soft hair, gentle face and warm eyes - at first glance he was pretty, but then he’d smirk, baring his canines and exposing his bloodlust, and then he was hot as hell. He’d definitely be the love interest that came under the label of ‘bad boy with a heart of gold’. 

Except… 

“I don’t control what stupidity the idiots in this school believe in,” Akechi said flatly, “Unfortunately.” 

“Yeah, I bet you’re real choked up about that,” Takamaki said dryly, then sobered, “Uh, by the way, what you did about Kamoshida…”

“What I did?” Akechi’s expression became utterly neutral, his gaze shifting to somewhere past Takamaki’s shoulder, “I didn’t do anything about that sack of shit. He confessed to his crimes all on his own.”

Takamaki said nothing for a moment. A strange, heavy tension settled over them, and Akira found himself studying Akechi. His whole posture was relaxed, his expression betraying nothing, but Akira still got the distinct feeling he was lying. Akechi was tapping the edge of his desk, an anxious tic, he found.

“...yeah, you’re right,” Takamaki finally said, giving Akechi a small smile, “My mistake.” 

She gave Akechi a small bow, and added; “Thanks anyway.” 

With that, she left as quickly as she arrived, except less angry. Akechi was frowning, looking unsettled. 

“So,” Akira started, “Do you two, like, know each other…?”

“We went to the same elementary and junior high school,” Akechi said, “We aren’t friends, but, well, she knows me better than most.”

Enough to boldly march up to him and yell at him without fear of reprisal. To Akira, that seemed like something only friends could do, but if Akechi wanted to pretend otherwise, he wasn’t going to burst his bubble. 

Akechi looked down at his notebook, and closed it with a sigh, “So much for peaceful lunch breaks.”

“You’re going?”

“I have some idiots to discipline,” Akechi said flatly, and paused in stowing his notebook into his school bag to fix Akira with a thoughtful look. 

“Do you want to come?” Akechi offered after a short pause where they simply stared at each other. 

Akira smiled, “Sure. I wanna see the infamous ‘Tiger’ in action.”

“Ugh,” Akechi rolled his eyes, but he looked pleased, “Don’t utter that ridiculous nickname in my presence.”

“It’s cute,” Akira purred, and laughed when Akechi hissed at him, “What! It is!”

“Tigers are fearsome, not cute.”

“They’re adorable,” Akira continued, packing his stuff away and standing up, “Fluffy and, uh, kinda goofy?”

Akechi shouldered his bag and cracked his neck with a tired sigh, his shoulders slouching in a show of laziness, “Hm, adorable, fluffy and goofy…” 

Akira yelped when Akechi abruptly lunged for him, almost knocking the desk over in his determination to throttle him. Akira bravely bolted, laughing as he kept ahead of Akechi’s growling, snarling pursuit. He knew he wouldn’t seriously hurt him once he caught him - at most he just gave him an aggressive noogie that made his scalp ache for a few minutes. 

“Get back here, Kurusu!”

Yeah, at least to Akira, this tiger was as soft as a kitten.

Chapter Text

Akechi was glaring at him. 

This wasn’t anything new. Akira found that Akechi’s face just defaulted to that naturally, and had learned not to take it personally whenever the delinquent levelled a ferocious scowl while asking if he could borrow his pen, since his ran out of ink. It was just ‘Akechi Things’.

However, this glare had a bit more intensity to it than usual, and when Akira met it curiously, it didn’t shift or soften. If anything, Akechi glared harder. 

“What?” Akira asked blithely. 

Akechi tapped the edge of his desk with his pencil, his notebook open on an impressive piece of art with cramped handwriting along the margins: an armoured angel in flight with a spear and shield. 

“...Are you doing anything later?” Akechi asked after a very long pause, where all they did was stare at each other. 

“Uh, no?” Akira thought about it, “No. I’m free.”

“Good,” Akechi’s tapping increased in force and tempo, a rapid ‘tcktcktcktck!’ that made Akira anticipate the poor pencil snapping in half any time soon, “I’m gonna take you out.” 

Tcktcktcktck!

“Take me out, as in, to kill me?” Akira asked blankly. 

Tck.

“No, you dumbass,” Akechi snapped, his aggressive tapping halting. The tips of his ears were turning red, “Taking you out. After school. As in physically moving you to another location, taking you out.” 

“Oh, so like a date,” Akira said, much more enthused now. 

Akechi made a very interesting noise. It was right in the back of his throat and he fumbled with his pencil, almost dropping it on the floor. His cheeks were a little pink now, and his ears were crimson.

“Not- not that either!” Akechi huffed, quickly regaining his composure, “Moron! Tch, forget it.”

“Aw, c’mon, I was just teasing,” Akira crooned, gently nudging Akechi’s shin with his shoe. The delinquent tucked his feet under his chair, out of reach, and levelled him with a grumpy look, “I’m sorry. Where were you thinking of going?”

Akechi eyed him for a moment longer, before the harsh edges of his scowl softened into something - not quite friendlier, but more forgiving, “Somewhere.”

“Informative,” Akira returned. 

“Shut up,” Akechi’s frown softened even more into an almost-smile, “It’s just a place. Nothing special.”

but you want to take me there, Akira mused to himself. The moment felt oddly vulnerable though, Akechi fidgeting with his pencil again, so he let the matter drop with a soft ‘mm’. Akechi seemed appeased at his agreement and returned back to his drawing, but Akira couldn’t help but marvel at how weirdly cute Akechi could be beneath the aggressive, hard-edged veneer of ‘the Tiger’.

he’s adorable, Akira sighed to himself, then quickly ducked his head over his schoolwork to hide his blush. 

Akira met Akechi after school by the front gates. As usual the Tiger’s presence was heralded by hush, fearful whispers - more nervous nowadays after the fallout of Kamoshida’s confession and subsequent arrest. Students practically tripped over themselves to dive out of their way as they left the school, Akira unable to stop himself from hunching his shoulders and tucking himself low at the stares and whispers dogging their heels. 

“Straighten up,” Akechi ordered, nudging Akira hard in the ribs until he did just that, “You’ve got a spine. Use it.”

“Sorry,” Akira mumbled, fidgeting with his fringe, his shoulders twitching when a fresh burst of whispers spawned behind them. A group of students from the year below were trailing a few paces behind them, not at all discreet in their morbid fascination of them.

Akechi’s expression turned thunderous. 

“Oi!” he barked over his shoulder, startling both Akira and the students behind them, “Who d’ya think you’re oglin’ here?! Fuck off before I tear out your fuckin’ spines- ”

He didn’t even get to finish his snarling reprimand. The gaggle of students yelped out frantic apologies and bolted past them, Akechi growling at their retreating backs. Akira blinked, staring as Akechi settled back into himself with a contented smirk, like some satiated big cat. 

“Uh,” Akira stammered. 

“Some idiots don’t know when to keep their mouths shut,” Akechi purred, flicking a heavy-lidded glance Akira’s way, “They won’t learn if you let them walk all over you, Kurusu.” 

“I’m not… a confrontational person,” Akira said lamely, his heart doing very weird, acrobatic things in his chest beneath that stare. 

“Hm, you will be once I’m done with you,” Akechi said with a bit of swagger. 

Akira opened his mouth to ask what that meant, when he was cut off with a loud, persistent meowing somewhere around his feet. He stumbled to a quick stop before he accidentally trampled a black-furred cat underfoot, staring when Akechi looked down as well and sighed in a put upon way. 

“I didn’t forget you, you whiny baby,” Akechi said, and without warning, bent down and casually scruffed the cat, “Hey, Kurusu, put this in your bag.” 

“Uh,” Akira did as he was told, his gaze flicking between Akechi and the disgruntled looking cat as it was deposited into his bag. It seemed oddly docile about this, “Are we… stealing this cat?”

“Nah, he’s just a stray,” Akechi said, like this explained everything (it didn’t), and pushed the bag into Akira’s hands, the cat’s head sticking out of it, “Carry that.”

“Okay???”

They continued on their way, this time with a new friend in tow. The cat was surprisingly well behaved, perfectly content to lounge in Akira’s bag, occasionally popping out to rest against his shoulder and meow pointedly at Akechi. The delinquent would just huff or mutter under his breath in response, almost like he was talking back to the cat. 

Akechi truly was a mystery. 

They hopped onto a train, illegally smuggling the cat with them, and ended up in Shibuya. Akira wasn’t surprised - the both of them were perpetually poor, from what he’d gathered. Akira because he was a criminal living in someone’s attic, and Akechi because… he didn’t know. Akira felt it wasn’t a safe topic for prying. 

It was because of this lack of funds that their little ‘date’ ended up being purchasing cheap drinks and food from Shibuya stations convenience store, and finding a place to loiter near the Hachiko statue. 

“So,” Akira said once they were settled against the low railing, the ‘stray cat’ freed from the bag to sit neatly between him and Akechi on said railing. Its bright blue eyes were staring up at him with an intensity that made Akira uncomfortable, “What’s with the cat?”

“His name’s Morgana,” Akechi answered, peeling back the cheap plastic from his store-bought sandwich. It was chicken, which Akira thought was brave, “Or Mona. Whichever.”

“Is he your cat?”

Morgana meowed at that. 

“No,” Akechi said, and took a bite out of his sandwich. 

Akira looked down at Morgana. Morgana stared back, big blue eyes shining with self-aware intelligence. 

“Uh, hi,” he greeted, “It’s nice to meet you, Mona.”

“Meow,” said Mona. The cat looked pleased (maybe??). 

“He’s a spoiled baby, just so you know,” Akechi said, ignoring Mona’s indignant hiss, “He’ll beg food off of you all the time.”

“It’s probably because you let him beg off you,” Akira mock scolded, but he still gave Mona one of his sushi rolls (it may be store-bought, but cat’s don’t care about that, right?), “Now you have a friend for life.”

“More like a leech,” Akechi said gruffly, but there was no bite to it. 

“Aw, don’t listen to that big meanie,” Akira said, smoothing down Mona’s bristling fur. Did the cat really understand them? “He’s a softie deep down, really.”

“I am not soft.”

“You’re as soft as a kitten,” Akira purred, meeting Akechi’s irritated glare with an innocent flutter of his eyelashes, “Don’t deny it, Tigger.”

“I will shove this sandwich down your throat,” Akechi growled. 

“You just can’t stop feeding strays, huh?” Akira said, “Softie.” 

Akechi shoved his sandwich against Akira’s face. 

After a very brief food fight where Morgana ended up being the winner, since the cat had no compunctions eating the spilled rice and chicken off the floor, they brushed themselves down and meandered aimlessly through Shibuya Central street. Morgana was back in Akira’s bag, and a comfortable silence was settled between them. 

It was strange. Two months ago Akira had come to Tokyo with a heavy heart and an expectation to be miserable for the entire year he was trapped here. But instead he was happy. Sure, some things sucked - the rumours, his gruff caretaker who he walked on eggshells around, the fact he lived in an attic and barely had any friends - but this odd relationship he had with Akechi more than made up for it.  He wasn’t frightened of the so-called ‘demon delinquent’. He felt safe, comfortable. 

“Hey,” Akira said, breaking their companionable silence, “Did I ever tell you thanks?”

“For what?” Akechi said. 

“For…” For taking a chance with me. For being kind, in your own gruff way. For looking at me and not seeing a lost cause. For being my friend, “You know. Hanging out with me.”

Akechi glanced at him, his expression unreadable. 

“...tch,” Akechi nudged him in the ribs, but the movement was gentle, “Don’t thank me for that, Kurusu.”

Akira smiled, gently nudging Akechi back, “You can call me Akira, you know. I don’t mind.”

Akechi didn’t say anything, and for one moment Akira was worried he overstepped. Then: 

“Only if you call me Goro,” Akechi said casually - too casually, his gaze fixed straight ahead with the tips of his ears turning red, “It’d be weird otherwise.” 

“Sure,” Akira grinned, “Goro.”

Akechi - Goro - harrumphed and looked away. Akira thought he caught sight of pink cheeks.

adorable, he thought again. 

Over his shoulder, he heard Morgana let out a sighing meow. It sounded exasperated.