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Manjoume turned the folded paper over and over in his hands, glaring down at the exquisite calligraphy adorning it. Black ink shimmered under the lights of the academy corridor, spelling out the ominous words:
"The Roof of Building A. Sundown. Come alone. Come prepared."
He frowned, trying to place the penmanship. It wasn't scrawled in the haphazard style of Yuki, nor any of the other miscreant Reds and Yellows that often followed him around. In which case there could only be one explanation. A new and terrible foe had finally descended on the island after what had felt like an eternity of peace and quiet. Manjoume nodded grimly to himself, inspecting every loop and curl of the lettering. What sick, depraved mind could have commit such dark and foreboding glyphs to the page? What villain would sign off such a thing with a stylised human heart adorned with angel wings? Angels... Heaven... A threat of death perhaps. Manjoume caught his breath. He was dealing with a true monster here.
He calmly slid the paper into one of the inner pockets on his trusty black coat and stalked off down the corridor, mind exploring every possibility as to the horror that would await him on the roof. Well, he surely would be prepared! He felt the trusty, reassuring weight of his deck, ready to serve him well. He ascended the stairs and cautiously pushed the doors outwards.
The warmth of the late summer evening greeted him, fresh air carrying the sea salt to his nostrils, the horizon beyond painting the sky in luscious pinks and passionate oranges, all broken up by the mesh of the fencing surrounding the rooftop. At the centre of the open area, a single table had been set up with a pair of folding chairs set up facing each other. In the far seat, elbows resting on the table and chin cradled on the backs of his clasped hands, Fubuki Tenjouin grinned at him.
"Ah, Thunder!" The young man called over to him, heading lolling to one side. "I was hoping you'd make it. I didn't get an RSVP to any of my notes."
Manjoume tried his best to hide his confusion.
"My notes," Fubuki repeated. "I've been posting them through your door for the last week now."
Manjoume's blank stare continued.
"Plain white envelopes, signed with a 10? And a little angel heart?"
Manjoume cast his thoughts back to the pile of unopened mail back at his room. A mountain of correspondence, largely from the family business regarding the ventures of his elder brothers. It could have all been done digitally, but no, there was something extra petty in going to the lengths at writing out a letter to point out their successes to him.
"Well, you must have gotten the latest one at least. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. And prepared."
Manjoume fumbled for the letter, looking over the loops and arches, realisation dawning on him.
"I... Bought my deck with me." He offered, eventually.
"Always a good idea, Thunder, but surplus to requirement this evening." Fubuki threw out his arms and stretched. "Tonight we begin your lessons in love."
Manjoume felt a heat rising across his face.
"It will be a gruelling course, but I think you're ready for it. Especially under the tutelage of the Lord of Love."
"But I-" Manjoume started to protest.
"The Professor of Passion."
"Didn't we-"
"The, uh, Count of Courtship."
"I'm very honoured, Tenjouin-san," Manjoume took a few steps closer to reach the table. "But, didn't you already give me some pointers in romance? You compared it all to a game of croquet."
Fubuki chuckled. "Ah yes, that was a good evening. But it wasn't the true lesson. No, that comes now. What you had was a taster session. A preliminary course. A class to set the stage for the real deal."
"I'm not sure that I'm really cut out for-"
"Nonsense. If I didn't think you were ready, I wouldn't have invited you up here." Fubuki reached under the table and hit the switch on some sort of electronic device that Manjoume hadn't spotted until that point. The low, slow tones of a cello began to fill the air from a score of unseen speakers. "Take a seat." Fubuki pushed the chair opposite out with a kick.
Manjoume obliged, still a little taken aback by the turn of events, dropping himself heavily into the chair. Fubuki reached back under the table again and pulled out two tall glasses and a large, dark bottle.
"Uh," Manjoume pointed, "Is that wine?"
Fubuki looked shocked. "Wine? You're joking right? Thunder, that would be incredibly irresponsible of me." He started to pour the rich, red liquid within into the glasses. "This is just a prop."
"Then it's..." Manjoume trailed off.
"Whatever I had to hand to get the consistency and colour correct. So there's water and blackberry juice."
"Oh, well that's-"
"And pureed tomato."
"Ah."
"And maybe three bottles of hot sauce." Fubuki paused in the pouring, thinking hard. "I wouldn't recommend actually drinking any of it, now that I come to think of it." He slid one of the glasses over to the other young man, but not taking his hand away. "In fact, I also wouldn't recommend touching your eyes after handling the glass either."
The two sat in silence for a moment.
"You know, on second thoughts." Fubuki removed the glasses from the table, setting them down on the floor a safe distance away. "There, I think that's safest for all involved."
Manjoume nodded faintly, still eyeing the two glasses warily, as if expecting them to catch fire.
"So, what's been going on with you?" Fubuki's smile had returned and he set back to leaning on the table. "I've not had a chance to catch up with you guys in such a long time."
"Well," Manjoume started to relax a little, "We- Wait, that's a good point, yeah, where have you been recently?"
Fubuki waved his hand dismissively. "Some business deals. Combined surfboard hang gliders. It's not been all that successful. Basically it- You know what, not important, let's focus, Thunder."
"Sorry, yes." Manjoume shrugged his shoulders a few times, loosening himself up. "Right. Yeah, so... Things have been going ok, I guess? Just the same old same old, you know?"
"Same old same old around here can mean all sorts of things," Fubuki said with a wink. "If I've learned one thing from my time here, it's that there's never a dull moment."
"No argument here," Manjoume nodded, his eyes glazing over at the thought of everything they'd come through that last year alone. "I guess in comparison to a lot of that, it's actually been really uneventful. So, what does the lesson involve?"
"You're in the lesson, Thunder, class has started. Try to keep up." Fubuki wiggled his eyebrows, raising a glass in a toast. Manjoume had no clue when he had managed to pick the thing back up from its resting place. The container of that red concoction started making its way to Fubuki's lips and Thunder panicked, reaching out and gripping the stem around his companion's own fingers. Fubuki looked confused for a moment, before watching one particularly gruesome-looking air-bubble in the surface of the liquid swell and burst.
"Oh, right." He said, putting the glass down on the table. "That would have been embarrassing, am I right?"
Manjoume said nothing, trying to calm himself down. Gradually, the two looked down at the table, at the glass, at their hands pressed together around it. Thunder almost leapt backwards, recoiling and knowing that a blush was overtaking his entire body. Fubuki merely smiled and nodded sagely.
"Very good, Thunder." He said, "You're learning faster than I thought."
He slowly leaned forward across the table, reaching his hand out and brushing it in front of Manjoume's face, gently moving a stray strand of hair out of the way. Skin brushed against skin for the briefest of moments as Fubuki tucked the black thread behind his companion's ear. His palm pressed ever so slightly against Thunder's jawline before being softly dragged away.
Manjoume's throat had never felt drier, his heart never so overworked, his stomach never as unsteady.
"Now," Fubuki said, leaning back in his chair finally. "Your turn."
"Wait, what?"
"Show me what you've learned."
"But I don't-"
Fubuki crossed his arms and smiled expectantly. Manjoume sighed, pondering it over. He listened to the sound of crows in the trees nearby, the faintest noise of the waves breaking against the harbour, the gentle creak of the chair as Fubuki leaned back in it.
"So, what's been going on with you?" He asked, trying his best not to let his voice quiver.
"Ah, the usual," Fubuki cushioned the back of his head in his hands, looking up at the darkening sky. "Musical practice, costume design seminars, sound system rental,"
"Classes," Manjoume offered.
"Cla- what? Oh right, yeah, sometimes. Honestly I've got so many projects on the go at the moment that it's almost hard to keep track. Plus every now and again I have to make sure that I make my appearances and keep morale up on the team. Being a good-luck-charm-slash-mascot-slash-cooler-head-slash-mentor is a full time job in itself, you know?"
"I guess that makes sense."
"But of course, I do it all with a smile." Fubuki beamed at him, before his face turned momentarily to an expression of confusion. He teetered briefly, the chair and its risky balancing act threatening to collapse and send him tumbling backwards. At the last moment he caught himself and propelled himself forwards, gripping the table and making everything jolt. Manjoume was halfway out of his own seat to try and grab him, his heart pounding at the sudden start.
"A-are you ok?" He asked, frozen in place mid lunge across the table.
"I think so," Fubuki gave the chair a few testing sways back and forth and then side to side. "Yeah, I think we're ok. Good old gravity, never let me down."
Manjoume let out a long, sighing breath of relief. He looked across the table at the other duellist, patting down the sides of his chair as though it were liable to suddenly explode. A few strands of hair had fallen out of place across his brow, flicking into his eye as he jostled in the seat. Without thinking it over, he leant across the table, bracing himself and moving his hand gently to Fubuki's forehead, fingers brushing against the stray strands.
The movements and jostling stopped. Manjoume suddenly realised that he had been in motion, and where he now was. He swallowed hard and moved his hand ever so slowly and carefully, guiding the hairs out of the way and tucking them behind the pale, warm safety of Fubuki's ear. Half knowing what he was doing, he let his hand linger there. Fingers tracing the outline down to the lobe.
Fubuki looked him in the eyes, piercing through to him in an instant. One eyebrow arched up and at the periphery of his vision, Thunder could see the corner of his mouth raising in a sly, small smile.
His own lips faltered and he could feel them opening and closing over and over again, wordless. He needed to do something, and he needed to do something quickly. His finger and thumb closed ever so softly on Fubuki's earlobe and he tugged just a tiny amount, making a strange "Mweep" in his throat as he did so, not once breaking eye contact.
They stayed that way for a long while, neither of them shifting at all, though Manjoume could feel every single inch of his body longing to just leap away and make a break for the doors. Leap down the stairs. Flee down the corridors. Get to the coast. Start swimming. Never stop. Never look back.
Fubuki's laughter broke the silence. Within a second or two, Manjoume was joining him, falling back in his seat. The laughs and snorts could not be stopped, and he was all too thankful for them. The two of them sat and laughed until long after the sun had finished setting, leaving them under the watchful eyes of the stars.
"Thank you for that, Thunder," Fubuki told him, wiping a tear from his eye. "Didn't know I needed that."
"You're welcome?" Manjoume couldn't help phrasing it as a question, still at a loss as to what exactly had happened.
"Right, I think I'm in the right mood for heading down to the beach now."
"A lesson on the beach?"
"Oh no, lessons are finished for the day. Now it's time for extra curricular activity. I need someone to help me gather up 337 good-sized pebbles."
"Wh- 337? Why that specific number?"
"I've drawn up some plans," Fubuki patted down his pockets. "I need that many so when I write out the message it'll be visible to any aircraft passing over- You know what, I feel like it's going to take too long to explain and we're losing night time. Are you with me?"
"I think I might be."
"Excellent. Follow me Thunder."
Fubuki leapt up and marched for the door, swinging it wide and springing his way down into the academy. Manjoume watched him go for a moment, gently rubbing his thumb and forefinger tips together. Finally, he followed.