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Vector walks closer, a spring in each step, a smirk firmly in place.
“What’s wrong, Miza-chan? He croons, placing a hand on his bare hip. Mizael chokes, a typical human reaction, and sputters as he’s drenched with cold cold water.
“Vector,” Mizael hisses, his tone pure poison and Vector, thankfully fully clothed, beams.
“Merag told me to wake you up for school,” he says cheerfully, pointing at the alarm clock and calendar in turn, far too animated for anyone at this time of day (or anyone who wasn’t Vector, really). Vector picks up a half melted ice cube off Mizael’s bedsheets, tossing it back into the bucket. “You don’t wanna be late on your first day, right?”
Mizael throws his pillow at him, soggy from the impromptu shower, and Vector (damn him) cackles and dodges skillfully. There’s a terrible pun about cooling off, something Mizael’s not even going to bother paying attention to because Vector is thankfully gone and he’s only got twenty minutes or so to get ready.
School goes on, dull and repetitive (although Mizael always places first in their grade, he won’t submit anything but his best, the best), and sooner or later, spring turns into summer. With summer comes the heat (some days too sweltering for Vector to wear a shirt, damn him) and more importantly, summer festivals.
Yuma Tsukumo, he hears from Merag, is fairly enthusiastic about those. He invited them all to go together last year, said something that made Nasch go pink in the face this year, and now they’re celebrating something about two lovers who meet only on this day. Whether they wanted to or not.
Granted, the only one with objections was Mizael. Alit already ran off somewhere with a rose, Gilag was reminiscing about The Old Days with Ponta, Durbe was off watching Nasch watch Yuma, and Merag already had plans with some of her friends.
(Of course there was Vector, but needing him for backup was not a depth Mizael was prepared to sink to.)
He walks away quietly (does not sneak, he’s above such things), wanders aimlessly for a bit with over-flavored takoyaki as his only companion, before something catches his eyes and he’s in line behind ten or so grade-schoolers trying to get a certain dragon mask.
It’s a mix of jade green and light blue, fierce yet gentle and it reminds Mizael of the home he had before his room at the Kamishiro mansion, before the crystal stalactites of Barian World, his first home with Dragulon.
The sibling pair in front of him grab the last one, the older brother fastening it around his sister's head before they run off happily to the next stand. Mizael ignores the stall owner, walks away because nothing else is interesting (like he'd ever be sad about missing out on buying a souvenir, because that's all it is. A cheap plastic toy. There's no need to be sad over something as petty as that).
He leans against the railing that separates the festival and the traffic beyond it. The night wind messes up his hair (as if the humidity weren’t bad enough) and Mizael’s so concerned about it blowing something away, holding a hand to the ornaments in his hair that he doesn’t notice the presence next to him until it taps him on the shoulder.
Naturally, it ends up being the last person he wants to see. Mizael turns his back to him immediately (he still wants to get some enjoyment out of this festival), but Vector is persistent, continually poking him until he responds.
"What is it?" Mizael says, the venom in his tone spitting, enough to make any normal person flinch.
"Hey! Hey! Is that any way to talk to someone who comes bearing presents?"
Vector pulls out a mask, that same dragon mask, and waves it in front of Mizael's face.
"Where did you get it?"
"There aren't any left in the stall, if that's what you're asking." Vector says. "But since I'm being really nice-"
"Return it," Mizael interrupts.
"Huh?"
"Return it," he repeats. "I know you stole it. Give it back to them."
Vector pauses, eyes searching Mizael's face. "Fine," he says after a minute, walking off and mumbling something about Mizael being oh so boring.
Strangely enough, Vector doesn't make much trouble after that. Pranks go on as usual, but they're nowhere near as vicious nor mean-spirited as they used to be. Not that he's around Vector enough to tell.
It's not that Mizael actively tries to avoid Vector, it's just being around him, especially alone is, for the lack of a better word, off-putting . He delights in making Mizael angry sometimes, flustering him at others, and bringing up all these feelings Mizael doesn't want to think about (because seriously, who would like someone like Vector?)
Their contact is mostly restricted to the kitchen, with Mizael's food never being warm enough and Vector's position as their head chef (he said something about being really good with boiling oil and sharp objects, the rest of them had long learned not to ask and dinner never tasted better).
Mizael skipped lunch earlier to study for midterms and now the sandwich he bought at school is cold and Vector's standing a few feet away from the nearest toaster. Mizael sets the time, sees Alit enter the kitchen out of the corner of his eye, walk towards Vector and watch him chop up onions.
"Hey, lemme try," Alit says suddenly, a hand already on the grip of the knife.
Vector fumbles, the knife twists in his grasp, slices into Alit's arm and clatters to the floor.
It attracts the attention of the others outside, who crowd in wanting to make sure nobody was hurt (and did you seriously almost kill someone with a kitchen knife, Vector?). It isn't until Gilag runs off, looking through their cabinet of medical supplies, that Mizael gets a good look at the wound. It isn't shallow but it isn't too deep either, nothing life threatening or crippling.
He grabs a couple of paper towels, starting to mop up the blood (Nasch isn't at home. Merag and Durbe are too busy trying to guide Gilag to which of their twenty plus cabinets is the medicine cabinet. Alit won't stop touching the cut, which'll get infected at this rate, and Vector's frozen. Not saying or doing anything.)
He considers saying something for a second but Alit beats him to it. The man Vector beat into a pulp two years ago, the man whose mind he controlled two years ago, the man he pretty much killed, pats him on the back.
"I know you didn't really mean to," Alit assures him with a smile. "So don't worry about it!"
Gilag eventually finds a box of bandages, Merag shows him how to correctly disinfect and apply them, then everyone else slowly piles out of the kitchen and it's just him and Vector again.
"Your aiming skills," Mizael says, breaking the silence. "Are terrible.
The toaster beeps, Mizael takes out his sandwich, still not warm enough, and sets it for another five minutes.
Vector shrugs as soon as Mizael turns his head back to him. "Maybe I didn't miss, maybe I meant to throw that knife."
"Alit isn't dead."
"Well, maybe it was a plot. Maybe I was going to be all oh I'm so sorry I messed up Shingetsu again."
Vector's fists clench, his shoulders shake, but he continues in a voice filled with glee.
"Maybe I was waiting for the perfect moment, for you all to let your guard down and then BOOM!" Vector slices through the air with a hand. "Everyone dies."
Mizael sighs.
"You're annoying," He says. "A coward. "Dishonest. Dishonorable." Vector's eyes dim at each insult, smile growing wider and wider.
"But," Mizael continues. "You won't betray us. Not again."
"Aren't you Mr. Optimism." Vector's tone is deceptively light. "Never thought I'd see our proud Barian warrior say these kinds of things. Did they teach you that in human school?"
"I go through it, human school, because I want what was taken from me before." Mizael looks Vector dead in the eyes as he mouths the thing that they both, that they all want.
"A future."
There's a lot of things Mizael learns to expect in life, and even more he learns not to. Which more often than not, are Vector's fault.
Like today, when Vector enters his and Durbe's class, wearing a freshly pressed uniform, their teacher introducing him as a new transfer student.
"I'm Rei Shingetsu," Vector says. "Treat me well!"
There's nothing Mizael wishes for more than Durbe's endless patience now, the ability to nod, accept, and busy himself with other matters.
"Oh, Miza-chan? We've known each other since forever. The truth is," Vector lowers his voice, drawing the classmates around his desk even closer.
"I came here cause yesterday we had a pretty serious talk. About our future."
Even Durbe's eyes grow wide and it's then that Mizael knows that Vector hasn't changed, that he's still planning to kill them all.
(With embarrassment this time.)
Bonus:
“A letter of challenge?” Vector says, reading the molded characters off the slab of Valentine's Day chocolate.
Mizael nods. “We’ll settle this. His voice is resolute. "For once and for all."