Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eight Years Ago…

“You good?” A young boy with a bruised cheek asked as he slipped his overly large glasses back on, ignoring how they didn’t sit properly on his nose.

In front of him another boy watched, face stained with tears and hands clutching his shirt as he glared miserably at the ground. Lingering fear and frustration clouded his vision but worse was the flush of shame heating his cheeks, urging him to hide from his friend, only guilt kept him pinned in place.

“I’m sorry I’m a coward.” He responded weakly.

“You’re not.” The first countered.

“I am!” The smaller boy snapped back, finally facing the other only to wince and look back down at the sight of his injury. A fresh bout of tears cracked his voice. “I- I didn’t fight back or say anything and- and I got scared and cried like a baby!”

His friend was silent for a moment, shuffling uncomfortably as he shrugged.
“It’s brave not to run when you’re scared.”

“But I didn’t do anything! You had to fight them beca-because of me!” he choked miserably. “If I’d done something, you wouldn’t have to fight and you wouldn’t be hurt! You’re the one that’s brave!”

“I don’t fight for myself though.” His friend muttered back. “If you weren’t there, wouldn’t have wanted to.”

“You shouldn’t! I don’t like you getting hurt for me. It’s not fair.” He shouted. “I should have taken care of it myself!”

The boy in glasses thought for a moment, fiddling with his hair as he muttered.
“Then next time if I’m in trouble help me. Then you’ll be brave.”

“But what if I can’t? What if I’m still useless?” he sniffed.

“As long as you try, I think it counts.” The boy said plainly, one hand raising to awkwardly ruffle the other’s midnight hair forcing them to make eye contact for a beat before turning to leave.
“Let’s go play Ranger Riot. I wanna listen to the water boss music again.”

Too embarrassed to move the shorter boy sighed in resignation, accepting the hand that tugged him away from the playground as an uncomfortable knot formed in his guts.

“You’re so weird, Akira.”

Present Day: Saturday 9th April

It disgusted Yuuki how easy it was to leek someone’s information, only topped by how it was even easier to spread false information.

A post or two with few links to some small newspaper clips, an online document of the files Kamoshida had given him, a few fake anonymous witness statements underneath, some speculation and rumours from multiple accounts and the rest was up to the grapevine. No point in checking sources or trying to dig up anything real since no one really cared about facts anyway, he didn’t even need to give any believable details, plenty of others would make up their own stories for a bit of attention and drama.

Yuuki always had a passing interest in computers and media, enough that he had considered aiming for a career in it before he went to Shujin, but he was sure that anyone could have done this simple task. Yet once again he was the one pressured into it.
At this point he suspected his sadistic coach was just useless with technology and thought Yuuki’s time to be worth the least out of the rest of the team.

He had not had the courage to look it up but he was near certain that posting someone’s criminal record was illegal, so this time Yuuki may be the scapegoat in this but there was nothing to do about that. Even if Kamoshida had tried to frame it as being ‘concerned for the safety of his students’ and that he was ‘only suggesting’ he spread this information to others, Yuuki wasn’t dumb enough to believe he had a choice in the matter when the file was forcefully pressed in his hands and had a ‘helpful reminder’ to include ‘reliable’ sources stuck to it. Hard to believe the man sincerely cared about the safety of those he regularly sent to the nurse’s office after all.

Either way he no longer found much interest in digital media thanks to these types of errands.

He couldn’t really complain though, each task completed gave the feeble promise of one less coaching session at least.

After it was all done, Yuuki laid back in his seat to rub at his blurring vision, the movement eliciting a pained groan as an unfriendly reminder of his bruised shoulder and hip.
His latest bad landing during Kamoshida’s welcome back practice session had been made worse by lack of rest but he would get used to it. The last of his first aid was already used up on his face and arm, both of which took priority, Yuuki could deal with being a little uncomfortable if it meant keeping his face somewhat presentable and numb; having to not to show pain nor fear was easier when his face could neither feel or display it in the first place. Considering the number of killer spikes it had taken, it was a wonder his nose remained straight, that luck only made him prioritise facial injuries more.
Though not necessarily needing the treatment his arm had so obviously been grabbed by someone he had no choice but to cover it, unless he wanted it to get further injury for not doing so. Perhaps if he was a little more skilled with the concealer Suzui had recommended he could have spared the bandages but even after months of buying the stuff the results were subpar at best.
Not like anyone was looking close enough to realise that. At least the bandage method of concealing was used often enough by the rest of the team that it wouldn’t raise suspicion before he restocked.

Yuuki sighed and added a memo to buy more medical supplies and concealer to his phone, mentally try to calculate how much of his allowance it would eat up this time but too fatigued to be sure of his answer. His stomach unhelpfully reminded him of the lunch he had been forced to skip out on having forgotten to restock his wallet.

“Hopefully there’s a sale soon.” He grumbled into the silence of his home.

Despite his task being completed, Yuuki couldn’t help looking over at the screen, squinting in an effort to reread the only part of Kamoshida’s input he could bring himself to look at through his blurred vision, the transfer student’s name: Kurusu Akira.

There weren’t many called Akira as far as he was aware, he’d only ever met one, back when his parents had them stay in his grandparent’s hometown for a few years.

Akira had been as quiet and aloof as he was bold and blunt, often giving the impression of maturity despite his many juvenile interests, while Yuuki was an overenthusiastic chatty and, overall, very awkward needy kid that lacked the charm or social graces to be considered outgoing. They had been neighbours stuck with not much to do thus ended up became friends by proximity, it was the closest thing he’d had to a true friendship then and since, so it was somewhat bitter to find that name under these circumstances.

Even if his memory was still clear Yuuki regretted never having got a picture of them to print up, a memento of the person he was forced to leave behind without warning. That feeling had only grown when he entered middle school and became everybody’s’ go-to target, whether as an object of playful jest or the occasional target of someone with more anger issues than spare change, wishing for some reminder that there was one person who had liked him enough not to jeer. Someone who called him by name.
Sometimes he speculated how different his life would be if the two had thought to exchange phone numbers back then, it had been unnecessary living so close but if he had been able to call the other after some of his worst days and hear a frank yet motivational response surely his life would seem a little brighter. He had considered writing a letter once only to scrap the idea in fear of never getting a response.

However, in time he found himself grateful that Akira had no idea the sort of person he had become. Learning to keep your head down and stay out of others business wasn’t something Yuuki could say he was proud of no matter its necessity for his own survival in Tokyo. He imagined Akira wouldn’t be either, probably wouldn’t even recognise him now or think him a disappointment.

Not that Akira was likely to remember some six-year-old cowardly nobody that started following him around let alone have expectations for him, but the thought of being remembered fondly was nice.

In the end all Yuuki had were a few distant good memories of some country boy and little chance of ever rekindling their two-year friendship.

Swallowing dryly, Yuuki swiftly closed the browser before he could get stuck in nostalgia, rubbing his face in hopes of clearing his fatigue fogged brain.

Curiosity urged him to dig deeper into the transfer student’s background, scan through Kamoshida’s files, check for school records to find a picture or something, just to be sure they weren’t the same Akira, but it was a foolish impulse. Besides the low chances and his own heavy eyelids, gnawing guilt made him unwilling to put a face to the stranger whose reputation he’d prematurely sullied.

Kurusu could not be the Akira he knew.

For one they didn’t share a last name nor did come from the same town, so the chances of them being the same person were practically zero. There was no cause for him to really care about this stranger. He would be better off focusing on rearranging his studying schedule than contemplating the impossible, many of his planned study sessions would have to be changed in leu of the extra volleyball practice Kamoshida had scheduled and he knew his parents expected his grades to improve this year. He couldn’t afford a lower allowance.

Hopefully Kurusu wasn’t as bad as Yuuki had made them out to be and didn’t cause any more problems to deal with, but some part of him thought he would sleep a little better if they were that bad.

Yuuki decided to put all thoughts of the transfer aside to concentrate on surviving another year of school or getting some decent sleep tonight at least.

As long as he didn’t cross paths with the transfer, he should be fine.

Or as fine as his miserable life could ever be.

With a heavy sigh he closed his laptop.

…

Monday Afternoon 11^th April.

Yuuki hadn’t taken in a single word Ms. Kawakami had said since she came back.

“Kurusu Akira.” Said the boy standing at the front of his class. “Hi.”

The class all muttered and gossiped while Yuuki was contemplating crawling into a hole somewhere and screaming to death, though he was probably more likely to faint.

Ashen grey eyes just visible behind the glare of large glasses, frizzy ink black hair that likely blocked his half vision, poor posture, minimal facial expressions, a curt yet quiet way of speaking and an overall aura exuding a mysterious sort of calm.
In the nearly eight years since they last saw each other, of course the only thing about Akira that had changed was his height and his damn surname.

Whispers stabbed into his mind.

“That’s the criminal right?”
“He looks quite now, but I bet when he loses it…”
“I heard he almost beat the guy to death!”

This could not be happening, Yuuki’s life was already depressing enough, he could not have unknowingly trashed the reputation of his only childhood friend just days before meeting him again. The transfer charged with assault could not be the boy he remembered watching super sentai movies with when his parents weren’t home. There was no way this was happening.
He wanted to take out his phone and find the info he leaked, to thoroughly read every part and confirm that this was a mistake but there was no doubting the evidence of his eyes and he hurt too much to be dreaming.

All he could think about was all the different lies and phrases he had typed out to slander Akira’s name, each one another nail in the coffin of what fragile relationship he could have revived all because he had been too sore, weary and guilt-ridden to look up a photo and actually read the damn record first.

The same lies he heard echoed in the whispers around him now as Akira sat down.

They hadn’t even spoken to each other and Yuuki already knew he’d messed it all up, even if Akira had yet to realise it. If he was recognised now…

A chill ran through him at the thought.

He hadn’t been recognised had he?

Cautiously glancing over to his left, Yuuki was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to find the other staring into space, clearly not having recognised him at all. Though on a second look there was one other difference between the child in his memories and the teen now; underneath Akira’s aloof expression was a tension that ran all the way through his body, as if something now burned under the cool surface of a mask that had formed sometime these past few years.

Yuuki looked away for fear of being noticed and sunk into his spiralling thoughts, grounded only by his racing heart and the bile threatening to scorch his throat.

‘Do I really have such rotten luck that my pathetic life somehow just got worse? Why did this have to happen to me? How did Akira come to be someone with a record?! Did he really assault someone?! Why?! Why transfer to Shujin of all places? Why does Kamoshida want rid of—Oh shit, what if Kamoshida finds out we know each other?! Will he want more dirt on Akira? Or maybe he’ll just blackmail me with that? Would Akira end up getting called to his office too if he knew?! I can’t—What should I—’

He was broken from his building wave of anxiety when Kawakami called him.

Swallowing back the rising of panic and guilt for now, Yuuki forced himself sluggishly to his feet, for once grateful no one cared to notice his trembling hands.

Akira had been too caught up in his own memories of the morning’s events to pay much attention to the rest of his classmates, deciding it best to just to say his name, avoid eye contact, and ignore the unsubtle whispers around him while he tried to figure out what exactly was going on.
As he walked to his seat his eye caught a painful shade of purple barely covered by a plaster on one of the guys near the front, the sight reminded him of the castle making him look away quickly only to meet the icy glare of the girl he met in the rain. After sharing a brief awkward exchange with her he shuffled to his seat, intending stare into space for the rest of the day.

Or that had been the plan until the teacher said a name he recognised.

“Mishima-kun. You’re on duty today, right? Please try to stay focused during class.”

“Everyone, please rise…”

Interest piqued, Akira looked over at the boy who spoke, which turned out to be the same one that caught his eye just a moment ago. He couldn’t get a clear look at him while they all stood, but his lack of blazer made him stand out somewhat and something about him felt familiar.
It took listening to his voice more, another few seconds of pondering over his features and the other nervously glancing in his direction for a memory to come into focus.

“Mishima.” He muttered to himself absently. “Yuuki?”

Usually, he’d brush off such a possibility of a chance meeting, but it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen to Akira today and he could do with a good surprise.

It would be nice to already know someone at this school. Ryuji seemed like a decent guy but reuniting with an old friend could make his first day feel just that little less bizarre than it had been so far. Yuuki had always been the helpful sort that knew all kinds of things and he was energetic yet quiet enough that he could mediate between him and Ryuji, maybe if things went well they could all hang out after school like he used to with his old friends back home and they could show him around so he won’t have to worry about getting lost again, just do normal teenager stuff that didn’t involve talking cats, half naked thugs and near death experiences. He could end his first day on a positive note with the knowledge he had two people to talk to.
A smile touched Akira’s lips at the thought; the Yuuki he knew would be excited to catch up after so long, even more so if he knew about why he was late, probably ask more questions than he’d be ready to answer then apologise for being annoying. It relaxed him a little, the end of class now something he could look forward to.

Akira had not realise how tiring it would be to deal with so much hostility and suspicion from a bunch of strangers until he entered Shujin, being arrested and shipped off to a new school had already been difficult, after the mess that was this morning and the circulating rumours he really needed some levity.
He could also do with a few good friends, many back home had stopped talking to him after his arrest, some of their own volition while others were under pressure from their parents, not that his dad was much better about his associations. Akira couldn’t help but hope to keep hold of the one relationship he had from before the incident.

Honestly, though time had distanced him from the feeling he had missed Yuuki since his family moved. It had taken his own parents changing prefectures and starting a new middle school to find friends that matched his wavelength like Yuuki did. He really hoped he was right about his classmate.

Taking the time to discreetly study Mishima a little more, he became certain that this was the same boy that he’d spent days messing around the park with. Mishima’s hair was a little longer and cut more haphazardly than he recalled, and he’d lost a lot of his baby fat, yet there was no mistaking the resemblance. He still remembered how confused yet intrigued he was by Yuuki’s strong reactions to the shows they watched as kids, Akira had always been more reserved so it always caught him off guard. Yuuki had made so many amusing over the top expressions it was kind of hard to forget such a face.

Still, the Yuuki he remembered didn’t been so lacking in spirit.
Somewhat sad, timid or lonely at times, as was the way when parents tended to focus on their careers more than their kids, but there used to be a little brightness around him even on gloomy days that this teen didn’t have, it made Akira hesitant.

‘He looks…different.’

He brushed off the thought and concentrated on the lesson.

…

As luck would have it, once classes were done Akira managed to catch Mishima just outside their classroom after his simultaneous run in with Kawakami and Ryuji. He almost missed him, still thinking over the conversation he heard between the principle and that weird coach, if it weren’t for the lack of black jacket catching his eye he may have walked straight past him.

Akira kept himself looking casual as he approached, just on the off chance this Mishima happened to be just a familiar looking stranger, he didn’t need to add fire to the rumour mill after all.

Though from the lack of notice he got once he was next to the other, he needn’t have bothered. Akira stood silently in front of the other for a good minute before deciding he should speak.
“Hey.”

The shorter boy who had been glaring down at his phone jumped and looked up at him in shock, hurriedly stuffing the device away and shuffling back a little. He looked like a spooked dear.

“Oh! I-I um, uh…Is there something you want from me?” he mumbled.

The response almost made Akira back off and disregard his hunch as wishful thinking, but his instincts told him to press on anyway.

“You’re Mishima?”

“Yes?”

It sounded more like a question than an answer, this Mishima’s voice was even more hushed than Akira’s. Now getting a closer look at him there were more similarities to Akira’s memories in this guy’s face, even though the overly cautious glances and personality didn’t quite match.
He tried to think how best to ask but Akira found himself distracted by the bruising and plaster on the other. He hadn’t been able to see them clearly from where he’d been seated, but now he remembered how the harsh colour had caught his eye the first time.

Unconsciously he leaned forward a little to inspect them, brows furrowing and lips tweaking down slightly. They looked painful although strangely faded in places they shouldn’t be.

“Um?” the boy tilted his head at the silence, looking ready to bolt.

“Is your first name Yuuki?” Akira asked absently as he puzzled out what he was seeing.

‘Those bruises look really weird. A bit like— no very like- Is that makeup? Is he wearing foundation?’

Mishima hesitated.
“Yeah?”

The distraction of the injuries temporarily being put aside for the satisfaction of being right, Akira leaned back.

“So, it is you, barely recognised you earlier.” A light touch of a friendly smile slowly formed, his mood brightening at his good fortune. “It’s good to see you again, Yuuki.”

He didn’t expect his friend to violently wince in response.

“I think you must have me mistaken for someone else.” Shoulders hunched and his eyes sunk to inspect the floor, Yuuki’s voice barely audible above the background noise of the school, “I don’t know any Kurusu.”

Akira blinked in confusion but quickly realised his mistake, internally smacking himself.
“Oh, right… the surname.”

He fiddled with his hair, embarrassed at having spoken so informally after such a lacking re-introduction, the morning had really messed with his head. Akira had never been much of a talker in the first place so he wasn’t sure how well he could explain, probably best just to get the facts across, though speaking in statements often confused other people. But then again Yuuki had gotten used to his speech patterns, so he surely wouldn’t mind.

“Used to go by Amamiya. Parents divorced a few years ago, Kurusu’s my mother’s name.” Akira paused before awkwardly adding, “Got new glasses too. We met on the stairs to the park.”

The recognition and surprise that flickered across the Yuuki’s face was clear to read, ebony eyes skimming over his face then away just as quickly to be covered up by a tight near pained expression.

“I really don’t know what you’re t-talking about.” he said, shaking his head and taking a few more steps back as he did. “Sorry but I have to go.”

Akira couldn’t help but follow as a sense of suspicion stirred in his mind, drawn once again to the colourful bruises and strangely stiff shoulders. This was definitely Yuuki, nervous energy and easy to read face, but it was all off and Akira felt there was a reason for it.

Hesitantly his hand reached for the other’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?”

Yuuki only created more distance, looking at anything but Akira.

“Please excuse me, Ama-Aki—Ki-Kurusu!” His skin paled considerably on the verbal stumble.

“Yuu—?”

“Excuse me!”

Then he was gone, hurrying past the student body, slipping between others unnoticed like a ghost and leaving Akira by himself once more.

After the shock of the other’s abrupt exit had worn off, he felt his mood slump with his posture, hand shoving itself back into his pocket. Sensing the stares of those around him, he decided to get moving. So much for regaining an old friend and improving his crappy day. That hadn’t gone anything like he’d expected it to.

“What was that about?” he muttered to himself, hoping that maybe the freaky spirit he’d conjured before would speak up but received no answer.

Approaching the stairs to make his way to meet up with Ryuji, Akira thought over the brief conversation and came to a conclusion; Mishima Yuuki remembered him but was pretending not to for some reason and he’d have to carefully pry it out of him.

Apprehension settled in his gut as the memory of bruises returned. The thought that his friend may be subject to bullying crossed his mind but Akira tried not to consider it too hard, Yuuki was the clumsy sort so there was a chance he’d just taken a nasty fall, no sense in jumping to conclusions just because he was so skittish. Though, others had tended to look down on his friend when they were little since he was easily pushed into doing as told, the possibility was higher than he’d like to admit.

He decided to think on it more tomorrow, first he had to talk with Ryuji.

She found Mishima kneeling with his hands clutching his hair and eyes vacantly fixed on the ground.
To say this was an unfamiliar sight for Shiho would be a lie, however, to say it was something she was used to was also false. Maybe it was the place where she found Mishima that made this time so striking.

Having diverted her brief conversation with Ann to something other than her healing leg and volleyball, she had decided to get them both drinks in hopes of steadying herself, leading her to one of the lesser used vending machines that Mishima was currently blocking.

There was always something unnerving about these moments; was it how still and expressionless the boy was, like a haunted mannequin lacking a soul. Or that it felt like he was reflecting something in herself she didn’t want to see, the nights she stared at her own reflection long enough to see a stranger while dark whispers filled her head. Whatever the reason, she tended to keep her distance when she found Mishima in this state, uncertain how or even if she should help.
But usually these moments of stillness were reserved for before or after a match, likely due to him being kept on the bench and having Kamoshida’s ire momentarily focused solely on him to save injuring an actual player.

While the tournament was approaching, nothing should have happened to cause Mishima to act like this so early in the school year. Shiho could not help but worry, the stillness was far too familiar, and his knuckles were whitening enough the skin might crack.

“Mishima?” she called out tentatively, not moving any closer just yet.

The sound of her voice made him blink, eyes gradually making their way to hers and hands slipping down to rest on his knees.

“Oh. Hey, Suzui.” Finally registering her presence Mishima’s eyes darted away. “Did you, uh, need something?”

Shiho relaxed a little at having gained a response so quickly, unsure what she would have done otherwise. Though the hesitation in his voice never boded well for either of them in the past.

Uncomfortable and unable to think what more to say she stuck with the truth.
“Just grabbing a drink. The others ran out of Ann’s favourite.”

Mishima merely hummed in response, remaining knelt in front of the machine.

“Could you…?” she gestured toward him.

He looked up at her again, then seeing her glance to the side followed it to the vending machine, then to his own feet. She could see him connecting the dots.
“Right. Sorry.”

Mishima shuffled off to sit on a bench, Shiho taking his spot before the machine looking over the options but not really taking any in.
Feeling antsy she focused on the reflection of the glass and saw how Mishima slumped behind her, head bowed and forehead leaning on his hands much like before. She accidentally caught her own reflection in the process.

Uncomfortable she once more centred her thoughts on the drinks in front of her, being sure to carefully pick out Ann’s favourite while deciding to just go with the one next to that for herself.
The drinks dropped with a loud clatter and as she knelt to take them Shiho’s curiosity got the best of her tongue.

“Did something happen?”

She saw his reflection twitch.

“No.”

He was a bad liar. Shiho wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not.

The cans were cold, their surfaces near burning her hands but she could not bring herself to mind it after a day of feeling as if everything around her was clouded and distant, instead pressing her fingers a little harder into the sting.

Silence hung heavy between them, yet she felt compelled to remain, whether to delay more awkward questions from Ann or because of the fellow volleyball player’s odd mood she could not honestly say. Shiho tried to think on any possible cause for the change but only one person came to mind, she was not willing to contemplate what new evil that man had brought so she tried again only to become more lost.
Though they had developed a sort of understanding over their first year, neither had become all that close, too caught up in their own circumstances to have the chance to form something that could be called friendship. As such her knowledge of Mishima’s life was limited to what went on at practice, his regular ‘special coaching’ sessions and that he was now in the same class as her best friend.

With only one lead left to go on, Shiho tried to remember if Ann had mentioned anything about class that day, cursing herself for zoning out so much during one of her rare moments to enjoy Ann’s company. Soon a snippet of conversation crossed her mind.

“That new transfer’s pretty strange, he seemed really spacy when he introduced himself and his hair’s a mess. The teacher even lied about him not coming to school this morning. There’s those weird rumours too…”

Thinking it over Shiho felt she had an idea what might be bothering Mishima.

Fiddling with her own drink she decided to remain facing away as she spoke, not feeling confident enough to meet his eyes.
“Ann said the new transfer student ended up in your class?”

“Yeah.” Mishima croaked back.

Shiho wavered at his tone, shuffling her shoes, searching for the right words to continue.
“Are you scared of him?”

There was a beat of silence but this time his voice came out clearly.
“Scared?”

“I’ve heard rumours already…a lot of them aren’t good.” She admitted somewhat ashamed of having listened at all, “But I don’t believe most of them. People like to exaggerate things just to create drama. Did he seem bad?”

“It’s not that…exactly. It’s nothing.”
To her surprise Mishima sounded bitter, though perhaps she was imagining it.

But if she wasn’t then another worry came about.
Those rumours had to have come from somewhere after all, and she could still recall the sudden dip in her stomach when her teammate showed her a school forum speculating horrible things about her best friend, some of which detailing things none of the students should know but a certain teacher would. She had discovered that there had been a few rumours that started on that forum.
However, everyone knew Kamoshida struggled with computers. In fact, he often had Mishima print the practice schedules.

She drew a shaky breath. “Were you t—”

“Y-You should get back to Takamaki with that drink.” Mishima mumbled hastily, “It’s split practice today. The girl’s will start soon, right? It’s before ours.”

Well, that stung.

She knew they were not exactly friends, and his troubles weren’t really her business as hers weren’t his, but to cut her off with a reminder of what was to come was harsh especially from Mishima. And from how he had winced he had known that.

Once more silence hung between them, only now she had lost the heart to stay.

“Right. Well. Bye then.”

Mishima didn’t respond or even twitch, but she quickened her pace anyway.

Going through the halls Shiho barely paid attention to the world around her, too caught up in the hurt of being pushed away as well as the still present concern that Mishima had got wrapped up in more trouble than usual. Of course, she had suspicions who was to blame, but for the boy to act the way he was there had to be more to it this time. Possibly something about the transfer being in his class had made him uneasy? Things could get worse for him if he was found out and being so close to someone with a record couldn’t make that easier to deal with.

Or perhaps, like her, he was feeling the weight of each day increasing, pressing on their bones and moments from crushing them. Perhaps now he was also being pressured to give more than he would ever be willing to. If this was the start of something, she wondered how it would end and if she had yet to reach that point herself.

Glancing at a window it was clear that lack of sleep was doing her no favours, concealer unable to hide it as well as it did the fading marks beneath. Sometimes it felt like the girl in her reflection wasn’t truly there, yet they judged her all the same, eyes cold and hollow.

Unable to continue looking at her ghostly image, Shiho hurried over to the staircase she had left her friend at, slight comfort coming to her at the sight of Ann fiddling with her hair to casually avoid paying attention to those around them.

“Sorry that took longer than I thought.” Shiho greeted, handing over a can with a mild smile.

 “Oh! It’s alright, thanks for the drink.” Ann took it with a bright smile in return. “So, um, what were we talking about again? Oh yeah, so I was thinking—”

“A-actually Ann, I need to get going.” Shiho cut in mournfully. “Practice will be starting soon.”

“Is it that time already?” Her friend wilted.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be, I should have come with you.” Ann smiled, her voice brightening. “Well, do your best! See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Shiho replied both in excitement and dread for their next chat, “Later, Ann.”

Yuuki remained in the same spot long after Suzui had left, wallowing in blend of self-directed pity and hatred.

Numbly he chided himself for pushing Suzui away so harshly, yet admittedly part of him was glad for it, as if adding to his growing guilt somehow soothed it as well. The hurt of causing hurt seeming to balance him. Still, even if the thought of anyone realising what he had done made his lungs feel tight, she didn’t deserve having their shared fear used against her.
Well, just another almost friendship he had messed up today, this time it could be argued to have been purposeful. He never had felt comfortable when Suzui showed care for him, he didn’t know how to handle it and was well aware he did not deserve it, so perhaps it was for the best.

Soon enough his thoughts returned to Akira.

“It’s good to see you again Yuuki.”

Hearing that had hurt.

It should have made him happy; he should have been able to respond in kind to his first friend and cherish the good fortune that allowed their reunion. Instead Akira’s greeting came at the worst possible time, under worse circumstances, carving kind words into a weapon. Yet the pain came with something, not quite happiness but maybe a sense of fondness that he’d long carried and only showed itself around Akira. Something nostalgic and reassuring.

He swallowed tightly, pressing his face hard into his hands, haunted by a thought.

‘Even after years of silence, he still calls me Yuuki.’

When was the last time someone had called him by name?
Likely his parents had at some point, but even then, it was a rarity to hear it during their few rushed conversations, and other than Akira no one got close enough to. At this point he would not be surprised if others thought he had no other name than Mishima, but Akira remembered and that meant more to Yuuki than he himself ever realised.

Now though, he never wanted to hear it again. As far as he was concerned, he shouldn’t get to hear it again.

It wasn’t fair that even his own name had been poisoned, but maybe it always had been, and he was only now suffering from karma. Either way, it was a cruel joke just like everything else in his life.

Kamoshida’s influence had worn him down to the point that he had ran away from his first friend.

Like a coward.

An alert on his phone shocked Yuuki out of his thoughts, dispelling the negative voice and reminding him of the time; he’d been sitting alone for at least an hour. He took a shaking breath to calm his heart.

Yuuki had not cried, nor had he thrown up, yet the sting in his eyes, roughness of his throat and heavy layer of exhaustion clinging to his limbs made him almost wish he had. At least then he could swear illness and feel somewhat relieved. If he could, he would have already gone home and spent the rest of the day in bed pretending not to exist. But for a member of Shujin’s volleyball team that was never an option that could be taken without consequence.

He at least had another half hour. Enough time to maybe think of a way to fix at least one friendship.

…

It felt like no time at all before he was headed for the gym.

The girls team never lingered after separate practices, often they vanished before the boy’s team was anywhere near the gym, though Yuuki couldn’t say it wasn’t for good reason. If he wasn’t always given cleaning duty, he’d do the same. Still, he would have liked to take the opportunity to apologise to Suzui before he lost the nerve.

“Hurry up, we don’t have all day!”

Yuuki hurried to join the other players warming up, but a heavy hand caught his shoulder, purposefully tightening on the bruise it knew to be hidden underneath.

“I heard you were talking to that transfer. You didn’t say anything unnecessary right?”

He would question how Kamoshida had found out so quickly but if there was one thing this school did well it was spread news fast.
“No, sir.”

He could feel the man’s distrustful eyes on him even as he turned to address the court, hand keeping Yuuki anchored where he stood.

“Listen up, the tournament’s coming up soon. We don’t need anything messing with the teams’ reputation, so I don’t want any of you getting involved with bad influences.” The teachers tone dropped dangerously. “If I hear of anyone getting friendly with such riffraff, I’ll see them in my office. Got that?”

“Yes, coach!” chorused through the gym.

Kamoshida grinned but lowered his voice for only them to hear.
“Especially you since you’re in his class, keep your distance. Don’t want anyone finding out what you did, right?”

“What I…?” The words trailed of as wide-eyed realisation made Yuuki finally look up at him, “But- but you the one who—”

“Who did what?” Kamoshida sneered, looming over him.

Words died in his mouth.
“N-Nothing, sir.”

Kamoshida leaned back and returned his eyes to the other players as if they had simply been having a casual conversation.
“That’s right. Be sure you remember that Mishima. Now start stretching.”

With that he left, making sure to land a solid pat on Yuuki’s aching shoulder as he went, the sting a lingering reminder.

Well, there went any thought of making up for that morning’s cowardice and potentially using this twist of fate to regain some piece of past happiness. Though with Kamoshida around it was a pipedream anyway, the man always threatened to expose him after forcing him to do his bidding, this time was only different because he actually cared about Akira’s reaction.

Despite not needing to, Yuuki felt the well-trained response come to his lips once more.

“Yes, coach.”

Akira collapsed back on the box elevated mattress that supposedly counted as a bed with a groan, exhausted.

He could not imagine how his first day could have possibly gone worse: forgot his umbrella, transported to a castle in a twisted dimension where the school gym teacher was a perverted exhibitionist king, got imprisoned by that king, watched a guy he just met get beaten by said pervert, nearly got murdered, somehow summoned a demon by ripping part of his face off during one of the most painful experiences of his life, met a talking cat monster thing, returned late for school to find out everyone knew about his assault charge and then had a very awkward and not as pleasant as hoped reunion with his childhood friend that insisted he never met him. Oh and his current guardian was mad at him.

He just could not wrap his mind around it all, none of it made any sense. Akira had left that morning thinking nothing could be worse than his arrest and yet the universe had decided to prove him wrong. Ryuji had called it a dream but that did not explain how they had both got wrapped up in it.

Akira felt a headache forming with how tense his jaw had become stressing over the day’s events, deciding to give up on thinking on it and get some sleep. As he reached for his sleeping clothes to change though he realised there was one thing that he could check today at least.

While he was certain he had not made a mistake, there was a chance his memory was a little muddled. It could be possible that with how hectic everything had gotten he was desperate enough for something safe and familiar that he had latched onto a recognizable name and forced himself to see what he needed to in Mishima to make him into the Yuuki he remembered. He just needed to refresh his memory to confirm he was right.
Pulling out his phone Akira opened up his gallery to swipe through a collection of old pictures, ignoring the collection of faces that he doubted would be in any future photos as he searched, then on finding nothing reluctantly opening his social media to check there all while adamantly refusing to acknowledge the sudden lack of messages or friend accounts only to come up empty.

He chewed his lip thinking through his options. He could try reaching out to Mishima online to see if there were any old pictures of them, but then again his mother had been the only one to take photos of them so he doubted Yuuki would have had the chance to take any with him when his family suddenly moved.

Akira blinked in realisation.

Hesitating for a moment he took a breath and opened the messenger app.

                       Hey I know you’re still mad but <Akira<
   Do we have a photo of Yuuki you could send me? <<

>Mother> Yuuki? From the old apartment?
>> Why?

                          Thought I saw him at school. <Akira<

There was nothing for a few moments then the appearance of dots signalling a coming response.

>Mother> [Image File.]

A breath he did not know he was holding slipped out. Just as he was about to open the file another message popped up.

>Mother> I’m not mad.
>> It’s just too much right now.

                                               Because of me. <Akira<

>Mother> I meant for both of us.
>> Unless you’re willing to talk about what happened?

Akira frowned down at the phone an uncomfortable twist in his stomach as adrenaline blurred memories of panicked words and cruel glares floated to the surface, the echoing sensations of confused anger and despair still too fresh to process. He shook his head and focused back on the screen.

                                                                  No <Akira<

>Mother> Then it’s probably better if you’re away from my worrying.
>> You need time away from all of this.
>>> Start fresh.

Akira briefly considered informing her of his leaked record but decided against it.
A sickly mix of guilt and resentment still lingered from their last conversation before he made the trip to Tokyo alone, he knew this was the best outcome he could ask for, the best his single mother could work out in the sudden rush of events with her current job, but he could not set aside the thought that he had been tossed out for being too difficult much like Sojirou had said.

A beep brought his attention back.

>Mother> Say hello to Yuuki for me.

Rather than continue the stilted conversation he opened the image file. Instantly he was faced with an old candid photo of his seven-year-old self sitting next to Yuuki in front of a tv, eating ice lollies to cool from the summer heat and looking up to the camera in confusion. Well, his friend looked confused, Akira had always been pretty expressionless even as a little kid, the contrast was admittedly amusing so he could understand his mother’s reason for having surprised them with impromptu photos like this. The simple scene felt nostalgic and somewhat painful in the middle of his not so simple life.

He had his answer now, with the photo for comparison there was no doubt that Mishima was definitely the boy he knew, they had the same wide dark eyes and midnight hair, even the surprised upward tilt of his shoulders matched.

Which just made their earlier meeting more confusing.

Akira closed his phone and settled into preparing to sleep with the hope of being clear headed enough to work this all out tomorrow.

As he drifted into the abyss of sleep, the echo of chains rattled through his mind, luring him back into a world of prison bars and ominous warnings.

Chapter Text

Tuesday 12^th April

Forcing himself to go to school that morning had been more challenging than usual, the previous day’s surprises not assisting with Yuuki’s poor sleep, all leading him to miss his usual train and being late. His only bit of luck was that Miss. Kawakami rarely bothered to take notice of such things.

He hadn’t been able to concentrate at all on the morning classes, far too occupied with trying to pretend Akira was not only a few seats away nor allow himself to think on possibility of Kamoshida finding out they already knew each other, though it had failed the moment Akira was called on in class. Now he could add feeling inferior to Akira and the knowledge that he was being stared at to his list of anxieties.

When lunch finally came Yuuki remained at his desk, barely focusing on the pile of notebooks left on by the others in class. Several students had dumped them on his desk in his dazed state, only now did he realise why.

‘Oh right. I forgot about the social studies homework.’ He grimaced internally, ‘Who assigns next day homework on the first day of school anyway? We didn’t even have his class until this morning. Then again Mr. Ushimaru was the sort to find reasons to scold people.’

Releasing a heavy sigh, Yuuki began stacking the books more evenly, absently taking note of how many had been handed in and who of his classmates he would likely be seeing along side him when Mr. Ushimaru called them to his office for a lecture on being ‘irresponsible youths’ or something like that. If he was counting correctly it looked like there was only one or two others who forgot this time, so hopefully it would be a shorter lecture.

“Need help?”

Yuuki jolted, barely managing to catch one of the books that slipped out of his hands in shock, the other was caught by someone else. Having already recognised the voice he stared at the hand holding it for a beat in hopes of gaining composure before looking up at Akira.

‘Did he always move this quietly?! I’m not ready to face him yet!’

Suddenly far more alert and mind reeling, Yuuki’s words came out rather stilted.
“Oh, Akir-kur-Kurusu. Um, sorry, what?”

“What’s this?” Akira asked casually, lifting the notebook slightly.

Unsure whether Akira’s nonchalance was due to his confidence or his own strange brand of friendliness, Yuuki decided that maybe he had best try to speak as he did with most other classmates for now, hoping his usual streak of being ignored would kick in soon.

“Mr. Ushimaru, the social studies teacher that questioned you this morning, he gave some homework on the first day of school to hand it by the end of today.” He replied tentatively taking the notebook from the other’s hands and averting his attention to the stack he was making. “You weren't there, so you didn’t get it. He might still mark you down for it though.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Akira’s head tilt but his face remained neutral.
“Harsh. You’re the class rep?”

“No. We haven’t decided yet, I’m just on duty today.” Yuuki admitted.

Actually, that had only been yesterday, but much like his first year no one ever bothered remembering the router and Yuuki didn’t mind having these tasks dumped on him if it meant having a reason to delay heading to the gym or being anywhere he’d be less likely to bump into his coach. Finishing his task, he shuffled the stack off the desk and into his arms with little trouble only to wince a little at the pressure on his injured arm.

Just as he was about to dismiss himself half the stack was taken from him.

Yuuki snapped his head over to Akira, blinking as he adjusted his hold on the stolen books.

“H-hey! What are you—?”

“Helping.” Akira stated, looking over at him expectantly. “Where to?”

“I didn’t ask you to though.” Yuuki muttered anxiously, fully aware of the curious eyes now trained on them.

Akira simply shrugged and went over to the door, waiting with an eyebrow raised in silent question. Yuuki couldn’t help but feel annoyed that even this quiet stubborn part of Akira hadn’t changed, such a trait could cause a lot of problems for both of them right now. Yet treacherously the familiarity nearly made him smile, only supressed by biting his cheek.

Not wanting to bring more attention to them he sighed and walked through the door.
“Well, just follow me. I guess.”

Silent as a shadow Akira did just that.

As they made their way down the hall Yuuki kept his eyes forward in an effort to pretend the awkward air surrounding them did not exist, even begining to hope that Akira was going to remain mute just as the silence was broken.

“You were late.”

Yuuki reluctantly glanced up at Akira in confusion nearly bumping into another student as he did.
“I, um, what?”

Akira shuffled his arms to hold the books in one, allowing his free hand to mess with his hair.

“This morning.” He stated in explanation.

“Oh.” Yuuki muttered slightly baffled as he realised the question not being asked. “I slept in.”

A few more beats of silence.

“About yesterday…” Akira started in a questioning tone.

“What about it?” Yuuki asked half-heartedly, unease rising.

Akira tilted forward to force eye contact between them, glasses slipping slightly down his nose to reveal the intensity of his ashen stare.
“You don’t remember me?”

Instinctively Yuuki looked away, anxiety kicking his heart rate up and speeding his steps. This was not something he could handle yet, he had barely accepted the situation, he had no plan for handling unwanted questions.

“Like I s-said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He insisted weakly, shame curling in his throat at the lie. “Yesterday was the first time we met.”

“It was?” Akira pushed, longer limbs allowing him to keep up easily much to his chagrin.

Yuuki’s jaw clenched, forcefully keeping his gaze ahead to think, grabbing the first reasonable sounding excuse he could find.

“Mishima’s not an uncommon name.” He pointed out, a little irked at the truth of his statement but trying to stay casual. “I guess you knew someone my age called Yuuki too? What a weird coincidence.”

Yuuki could sense the taller boy’s intense unwavering scrutiny. He did his best to stay on course, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of eyes watching him sweat.

“You said my name.” Akira countered bluntly.

‘Shit. Play dumb!’

“Kurusu?” He wavered hopefully, peaking through his lashes.

The other was not fooled.
“Akira.”

“You’re mistaken!” he blurted loudly, halting his steps and instantly cursing himself for the blunder. Yuuki took a breath before continuing, not sure what he intended to say. “I ju- I was just…nervous, so I stuttered. That’s all.”

He was grateful to realise his blind answer was so easily believable, he could work with it at least. Going by the twist in the taller boy’s lip and hesitant pause in his step as they continued down the hall Akira thought so too, taking a few moments to consider that answer.

“Stuttered.” Akira echoed, though a hint of a question lay beneath.

“Yeah, I’m an anxious person so it happens a lot.” Yuuki sighed for effect feeling more confident in the lie, mentally patting himself on the back for the save.

However, the small relief soon evaporated when he looked down the hall and spotted three of his teammates staring at them. A chill crawled across his spine at their expressions, unsure if it was due to Akira’s reputation or Kamoshida’s orders, but certain which he would prefer.

Swallowing Yuuki turned back to Akira, keeping eye contact with his shoes to avoid the glares burning into his skull. The air felt too thick in his lungs, his mind drowning as miserable frustration welled within him from what could be the sight of sincere concern being directed towards him by the friend he had not dared to miss for the last eight years.

“I’m sorry I confused you, I’m really not that person.” He whispered, genuine regret colouring his voice.

“It didn’t sound like—"

Pressure finally reaching near unbearable levels Yuuki looked away, cutting across the oncoming accusation.

“We shu- we should hurry, Mr. Ushimaru will be angry if these are late.” He called out hastening his pace as he choked down his guilt.

The sooner he escaped the better his chances were of Kamoshida never finding out they had talked and the quicker this pain in his ribs faded.

Akira hung back creating space between them before silently following.

It was a terrible habit, one that would get her in trouble if discovered, but Shiho found she breathed easier on the school roof.

When the corridors were too noisy and crowded as if the walls were closing in around them, when she could feel eyes on her from all around yet found no source, when the pains in her body gnawed at her mind, when the poisonous echoes in her head were too vicious and a friendly voice would crack her carefully built walls, she could come up to the roof just to beath and exist among the abandoned collection of tables, chairs and plants in silence. The morning’s rain had left the air cool and damp, the chain linked fence covered with captured raindrops that glinted in the dimmed midday light in a way that almost made the disorganised space seem pretty.

From above everything looked so much smaller, the uninterrupted wind slipping through the fence as if it could carry away everything effortlessly. Up where no one was supposed to go she could imagine herself as that breeze, drifting up from the school through the city to sweep petals and leaves into swirling dance that passing people would observe without judgement for its armature performance, unseen and untouchable yet always there to give birds the lift needed to fly as high as they dared.

She knew she was not the only one to use this sanctuary, the plants were evidence enough of that, but most only dared to open the supposedly locked door after school when no teacher would think to look while Shiho preferred to before homeroom or during their lunch break, to watch the crowds bellow that never looked up to see her.

On the roof she was numbed, as close to peace as her body would allow and soothed by a sense of control she knew was fabricated. There was nothing of the Shiho who struggled through each day, her torment was left at the door alongside her small collection hopes and joys, all she had there was the open sky and a fence blocking her from the edge of that tiny world. Here she would sit and stare into nothingness until she could believe herself part of it.

Today she could not fully sink into that numbness, a new problem intruding her solitude. Though she did not linger on her own troubles, those of others could slip through the door, the worrisome rumours of the new transfer student in particular lingered on her mind.

She had not met the person they all spoke of herself but given what so many claimed about them she would have thought that they would have stood out to her by now if the many violent stories held truth to them. It did not help that she still suspected that Mishima was involved in some way, considering how few listened or spoke to him unless acting as another’s messenger there had to be something going on for him to be so affected by those rumours.

The way so many were talking like they knew this mysterious person despite rarely using their name reminded her of how needlessly cruel people had been to her Ann back in middle school, she still could recall how lonely the blonde had looked back then and the whispered comments of her classmates. Shiho wondered how hard it must be for someone to move to a whole new school so far from home and be viewed as a criminal before even stepping through the school gates.

It was unfair, people were so hurtful to those they did not understand. They threw words around carelessly and mocked any weakness they could perceive, judgemental and clueless.

Their existence made the world such an ugly place.

One she wanted to—

The beep of her phone shocked her back into reality, with trepidation she checked her messages.

>Ann> Hey want to grab lunch together?

Shiho swallowed her guilt, already hating the lies she had yet to feed her friend.

Sorry, I’ve been given printing duty. <Shiho<

>Ann> That’s okay! Should I drop off some bread for you?

                I’ve already eaten, it’s fine. <Shiho<

>Ann> That’s good.
>> How about we meet after school today?
>>> You don’t have practice right?

Shiho hesitated for a moment. It was true there was no practice scheduled for today and though she needed some time to herself Ann was her best friend, she knew others kept their distance from her just because of their own misconceptions of her looks, she doubted anyone in this year’s class had taken the time to talk to her. Her avoidance yesterday had cut into what little time they had had too, they had barely talked before she had rushed off with the excuse of grabbing drinks.

She could probably handle keeping Ann company for a little while after school now that she had her moment of quiet on the roof, maybe being around her would lighten Shiho’s mood too. Decided she responded.

                No I’m free, let’s hang out. <Shiho<

>Ann> Great! See you at the usual place?

                                                 Yeah. <Shiho<

>Ann> Yay ♪(^∇^*)
>> See you later~ ❤

Checking the time Shiho put her phone away and pushed herself up to stand, knee pain spiking with the movement, then took one last minute to exist on the roof alone.

In her silence an ever-present urge whispered to her, drawing her gaze to the chain linked fencing.

Shiho did not reach out to the fence, she did not want to know what that dark voice inside would say if she did.

Instead she quickly rushed to the door.

Ann swiftly made her way out of the classroom, not wanting to risk wasting time as she did yesterday. Unfortunately she could not make her exit unnoticed.

“Hey there Takamaki.” Came a disgustingly familiar voice from the stairs. “You looking for a ride home? Things have been pretty dangerous lately with all those accidents.”

Forcing herself to remain civil looked up at the looming form of Kamoshida now standing in her way, taking a carefully casual step back to regain a little distance. The man’s face was crafted into something that could be interpreted as laid-back friendliness, like that of a teacher that saw little point in being rigid and strict with his students, but she knew better than to ignore the insinuation slipped into the offer.

“Sorry, I have a photoshoot today.” Ann countered warily. “It’s for the special summer issue, so I can’t afford to miss it…”

The shoot was in the late evening, but it was no lie that she could not miss out on the opportunity and there was no way she would skip out on her best friend for this creep if she had the option. Ann found it was better to rely on half truths than outright lie to Kamoshida, it was easier not to get cornered into anything when she was not making things up as she went, navigating his moods could be a treacherous balancing act even in public like this. At least she could keep track of his body language when talking in person though Ann would much prefer being as far away as possible.

“Hey now… being a model’s fine and dandy, but don’t work your pretty little self to the bone.” Kamoshida admonished slowly, condescension apparent even as he tried to play concerned. “You mentioned you weren’t feeling well, right? Something about appendicitis?”

“Yes. I keep planning to go to the hospital, but I’ve been too busy.” She muttered.

That stomach-ache had really saved her, unfortunately it was impossible to act in that much pain and discomfort all the time but at least it had been enough to ward him off for a week. Perhaps faking a medical issue that most would not procrastinate on had been a mistake but Ann had hoped the implication of her having physical ailments might make her a little less appealing to the man in some way, unfortunately the creep was either too perceptive or just persistent.

Avoiding his eyes she forced out. “Sorry to worry you.”

“You must be lonely too. I feel bad for keeping your best friend at practice so often. That’s why I asked you out in the first place.” The creep cued in false sympathy.

Fury rolled in her gut, but she remained silent. She knew what he was doing bringing up Shiho, he was not as subtle as he thought, Ann was well aware of how the man practically held her friend hostage with his unreasonable club schedule and sudden meetings in a bid to sway her attention towards him. How this man thought so well of himself by using such cheap tactics against his students she could not fathom nor did she want to.

“Oh, and… be careful around that transfer student.” He added lowly. “He’s got a criminal record after all, if something were to happen to you…”

She waited for the sentences end but he left the ambiguous statement linger.
Ann wondered if trailing off like that was supposed to make him sound reluctantly caring or if he was making a threat, though what kind of threat she was not sure. Part of what made talking to Kamoshida so distressing was how many meanings he slid under seemingly harmless phrases, every interaction had her on edge trying to puzzle out what was truly being said against the words he spoke. Was he suggesting that the new guy was genuinely dangerous or that if she got too friendly that he would get the transfer in trouble? Was this part of his possessive streak or was he just looking to spook her enough to seek his protection? Did he plan to blame something on Kurusu if she ever made a fuss? Was lording Shiho’s position on the team over her not enough?

‘Will it ever be enough?’ An acidic part of her whispered.

Knowing she could not ask Ann forced herself to respond in a way she knew he wanted.

“Thank you.” She barely nodded her head. “Please excuse me.”

She hated turning her back to him, the feeling of his eyes lingering where they weren’t wanted, but the relief of walking away more than made up for it.

Yet again she had managed to slip out of being around him outside of school without outright rejecting him, there was no doubt he was getting annoyed at her excuses but as long as she did not outright reject him things should be fine. She could not let her problems with Kamoshida influence Shiho’s chances of nationals, she could deal with him being a bit gross for a while longer, it was fine. The appendicitis excuse should give her a bit more time and her modelling really did interfere with her schedule a lot since she was on call in as an emergency replacement, even though technically she could turn them down, her story should be able to last until the start of nationals at least.

Ann desperately avoided thinking about the alternative or what options she would have once her time ran out, determined to enjoy her time with Shiho.

Even after everything that had happened and Morgana’s explanation of cognition, it was hard to think that everything in this castle was the embodiment of some twisted teacher’s thoughts. Akira tried not to think too hard on that and focus on assisting Ryuji, ears honing in to his two companions bickering.

“Hey, speed it up! We can’t stay here long.”

“I know I know, let me concentrate!”

Akira looked around for possible enemies as Ryuji stared determinedly into one of the last few cells, pondering over the conversation he had overheard between Tamaki and Kamoshida before getting ambushed by Ryuji at the gate.
On the surface the encounter could be considered civil, maybe even friendly, but the undercurrent of unease and irritation was too thick to ignore not to mention the gross sensation that crawled over his skin listening to it. He found himself worrying over the blatant anger that had crossed the man’s face once she left, what intent could be laying underneath it.

He could tell that there was something going on there, but he could not quite work out Tamaki’s part in all of it. She did not seem happy with the man but she was definitely more docile than when she had spat her accusation at Akira over his absence yesterday morning, there was something there that did not sit right with him but given her attitude and what Kamoshida had told her he doubted he would get the chance to work it out.

His attention was soon caught by a continuous sound coming from the last cell.
Cautious, Akira approached to check it out for traps, keeping an eye on Ryuji just in case but discovered only another disgusting display of cognition. Inside a prisoner chained to the roof of the cell was consistently having volleyballs blasted at them, Akira didn’t need to use his imagination to figure out what that was supposed to mean.

Assured there was no enemy to focus on he allowed his rising hatred for this Kamoshida and anger on behalf of his victims a moment to fester, to feed his connection to Arsene.

It was sickening to watch this blatant display of abuse; the doll letting out pained noises each time the force of the projectiles never quite enough to render them unconscious, worse still was knowing that Kamoshida did something similar in reality, and clearly relished doing so.
Despite his distaste for the spectacle he felt compelled to watch this time, to witness the repetitive senseless violence that no one seemed to have uncovered before.

Thinking on it, Akira remembered spotting a guy like this one in one of the holding cells last time, they had been lying motionless on the floor not responding to Ryuji making a fuss about leaving what they had thought to be real people behind. Odd that he would recognise a stranger after only getting a short glimpse, though maybe the high stress of the first meeting was the cause of that, there was the chance he was actually mistaken.

Still he was sure it was the same one, judging by their roughly cut short hair and the plaster on their—

The realisation struck hard.

‘I know that wound.’

“I’m nearly done, just— woah what’s with that face?”

In a daze Akira barely registered Ryuji’s question, approached the cell to clutch the bars and angle himself to better see the doll’s face as it swung back from yet another impact with a whimper.

His jaw clenched when he glimpsed more familiar features.
“I…recognise them.”

“You do?” Surprise was so clear in Ryuji’s voice he didn’t need to see his face. “Didn’t think you knew anyone but me at the school.”

Thoughts and feelings too jumbled to put together all he needed to say, Akira forced out a quick answer.
“He’s in my class.”

Movement beside him made him aware of Ryuji mimicking his position to get a better view.

“That’s gotta be Mishima.” He could hear the hiss of a breath pulled through teeth cutting in as another blow rained down on the helpless doll. “Dammit what the hell is this shit? It ain’t even training! That’s straight up abuse!”

“Don’t shout, idiot!” Morgana piped up from behind.

Akira backed away, not taking notice of the two continuing to argue as his mind thought back to his first time in class. Having heard the name and gotten a better look at the other, Akira had assumed he took notice of Yuuki in the first place because they were old friends, but now it was clear it had more to do with what he’d experienced that morning.

He hadn’t noticed a familiar face, but familiar injuries. Injuries that just happened to have been inflicted on an old friend.

How hadn’t he thought that Yuuki’s injuries could be linked to the rumours of abuse? And the way the boy acted, it was exactly how he used to act when he was scared of getting hurt when they were kids: avoidant, quiet and frantically looking for a way out but to stiff to run. It should have been obvious, Akira should have pieced it together instantly.

No, he knew why he had not though it possible.

It was because the Yuuki he had known could not stand pain.

Once early in their friendship he had slipped off of one of the parks climbing frames, he had landed into the sand face first and bit into his lip hard enough to bleed, the pain and fear on Yuuki’s face was unmistakable even without the wailing sobs whimpering through his shaking hands pressing and flinching against the wound. Akira had rushed him home to his mother who assured them again and again Yuuki would be fine and he would not die, cleaning away the blood to reveal only a small nip to his friend’s bottom lip. Except no soothing could get rid of how desperate Yuuki was for the pain to go away, even with painkillers the possibility of that pain had left him pale and shaking, the minor injury leaving him too shaken to go home that night.
No matter how Akira assured it was safe and he would not let the other fall again Yuuki refused to go anywhere near that part of the playground ever again.

That had been a constant pattern: if something caused Yuuki pain he did everything in his power to avoid it even to his own inconvenience. Akira would go as far as to say it had become a phobia with how poorly the boy handled it, the level of sheer distress far too great for such mundane injuries. It was unclear whether that reaction could be sourced to the faint scar on his lip or some other incident Akira had not been there to witness or just a personality trait of his friend, but it was persistent nonetheless.

Even when older kids took his things and mocked his helpful nature or dared him into touching a supposedly cursed rock, Yuuki stayed bolted in place, doing as told because fight or flight would only bring pain and he would sooner skip lunch than gain bruises. In the end it was Akira who stood up to those bullies in his stead unable to overlook the fear they brought his friend, but while that lessened their troubles it had left the smaller boy wincing at his bruises as he chewed his scarred lip with guilt.

To know that same Yuuki was now abused by his teacher repeatedly while hiding it- was just wrong. The Yuuki he knew would never accept being hurt like that, he would never suffer silently.

Akira scowled at the floor furious at his ignorance.
“I knew something was off...”

He was broken from his frustration by Ryuji.

“Well, at least we have another solid lead you can keep an eye on later. Think he’ll talk to you?”

Still too riled to speak clearly, Akira nodded, already determined to make up for his earlier ignorance. With a brief glance to the cell he made his way toward the exit with the others, unknowingly about to be faced with even more reasons to hate the man named Kamoshida.

Shiho’s leg throbbed, the brace relieving the joint pressing continuously against the bruising beneath. She struggled to ignore it and not give in to the urge to crawl to the nurse’s office for a nap.

“Mr. Ushimaru is so hard to listen to, honestly, I don’t think half of what he says actually have anything to do with social studies. He just likes to complain!” Ann grubled. “Don’t you think so?”

“Mhm.” Shiho agreed absently, then realising she should probably be listening and engage more added, “Mr. Hiruta’s class is much the same, he goes off on so many tangents I can’t keep up with it…”

Truthfully, she was falling behind on most of her classes now, a few teachers had even warned her she would be unlikely to pass the exams if she did not improve. She had never been one of the best academically her interests were focused more on athletics after all, but sometimes she wondered if she had been too lax during middle school, that her struggle to keep up with her classmates on what should be simple concepts was the result of her own laziness. Shiho had been so sure she could manage balancing her education and training well enough to guarantee a scholarship yet she had barely managed to pass her first year exams.

“Ugh, same. Biology is so confusing, English is the only thing that makes any sense to me.”

Shiho hummed in agreement. There was nothing more she could think to say.

Despite her hopes Ann’s presence was not enough to drive off the lethargy plaguing her.

“Anyway, enough about school, how have you been?”

“Me?” Shiho blinked caught off guard by the sudden change of topic.

Ann shrugged fiddling with her hair with a slight self-conscious smile.
“Mhm. We’ve both been pretty busy lately, I’ve missed being able to just talk for this long. It doesn’t seem right to not catch up a bit.”

“O-oh yeah, I guess we haven’t really talked much.” She winced. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m not…” Ann trailed off, brow furrowing as her lips pressed into a small frown. “Shiho…Is something troubling you?

“Why do you say that?” Shiho asked unable to meet her friends eyes.

Ann sounded careful with her words as she spoke.
“Well, you seem really lacking in energy and it feels like you’re not really wanting to talk.”

“It’s not that!” Shiho pressed urgently, hating the thought of making Ann feel unwanted. “I enjoy talking with you Ann I promise I’m just- it’s just…”

“Just?” Ann urged gently.

Taking a breath she decided to speak a truth if only part of a much bigger one.

“I…haven’t been sleeping well lately. Whenever I close my eyes, I keep thinking about too many things…” Shiho admitted unable to keep her voice from trembling as she did.

“Shiho…” Ann sighed sadly.

“Nationals are coming up soon so I keep thinking…” With a bite of her lip she voiced her fear aloud. “Should someone like me really be on the starting line-up?”

“Don’t worry! Just be confident in yourself.” Ann assured brightly. “Your skills have been recognised! It’s all because you work harder than anyone else!”

“Yeah…” She said through a failed attempt to smile back. “Volleyball’s all I have after all.”

“More importantly, was that injury OK? It looked really swollen.” Her friend shifted to a more subdued tone as she glanced to said injury.

Again Shiho felt her knee throb.

She shook her head, dismissing both Ann’s concern and her limbs complaints at once.
“No, it’s nothing. It’s normal…Especially since a meet’s coming up…”

Ann stayed quiet, a troubled look on her face that Shiho could not bear to consider so avidly kept her gaze fixed ahead instead which alerted her that they were soon to have company.

She saw Mishima’s slow approach from the corner of her eye and tried hard not to wish him away or glare as others did, only allowing herself the frail optimism he was here for reasons other than the usual. Perhaps it had something to do with yesterday, a problem with the transfer student or even about how he had dismissed her.

He stopped just a short distance from them, as if blocked by some invisible barrier.

“Sorry to interrupt, Suzui. Um…” Mishima’s gaze drifted between them momentarily before returning to the floor.

His previously healing cheek was once again starting to swell now paired with faint traces of dried blood under his nose, Shiho could see the blooming colour peeking through now smudged concealer. She took notice of these things when she could if only to have someone acknowledge Mishima’s pain, he’d deny it, but she knew he did the same for her.

It seemed like they were the only ones who would look.

Shiho knew Mishima once kept a tally of bruises in a small notebook along with other observations, she had been able to glance at it after finding him asleep in the library once. There had been the names of all the members of both the girls’ and boys’ team back then, with varying a number of marks with dates and notes beside them.
Last she had seen it; only his and her own name remained, the page crumbled next to a bin.

Mishima had changed notebooks soon after and with it his attitude, seeming to distance himself from the world around him as much as possible, shrinking into a shell of himself. That distance had made him apathetic and near silent, to many it seemed he no longer cared, but she still felt the way his eyes landed on her leg and arms to count bruises just as her eyes were drawn to his. Whatever the notes had been intended for had clearly not worked out yet he kept the habit, his gaze was one of the few she did not feel scrutinised under only observed, acknowledged.

Part of Shiho was grateful she’d never get the chance to ask Mishima how many he’d counted, but she couldn’t help but fear for the day he stopped. Though whether it was fear for him or herself was not clear.

Mishima’s wavering voice sounded forced out of him when he finally continued with his message.
“Mr. Kamoshida told me to get you.”

Despite having already known, her heart jumped to her throat.
“Huh? What does he want…?”

She had hoped that she had gotten away with her stumble during practice, the coach had been looking elsewhere when she checked and said nothing at the time but if he did would he deem her unfit to be on the starting line-up? She could not lose her spot now, not after all the effort she had put in and her grades falling behind, the chance of getting scouted for a team or a scholarship offer through nationals was crucial now that she was in her second year. Shiho needed to show everyone she was worth the investment as soon as possible, if she left it until next year and flunked it would be over, there would be no funding to go to college and her dreams of playing professionally would crumble. With how poor her academic prospects were right now, volleyball was truly her one road to success.

Mishima’s lips tightened, head turning away slightly with a grimace.

“He didn’t say…” he muttered.

Once again his hesitance made her uneasy, though this time she knew exactly what it meant even if Mishima didn’t. Bile rose to her throat. Kamoshida usually came up with an excuse but when he didn’t that was because he wanted to try making ‘kind offers’ to help her chances of scholarship. She hated those talks, even if nothing truly happened just having his eyes on her as he made those suggestions made her flesh feel disgusting.

She didn’t want to go, but if she didn’t and Kamoshida got angry what would that mean for Ann? There were already so many terrible rumours, if he really was interested in her friend would he turn his unwanted attentions to Ann if Shiho started ignoring his calls? No she couldn’t bear that, anything but that.

But she was so scared.

“Ann, I…” Shiho whispered, choking as misery clogged her throat.

For a second Ann looked almost angry but soon that was swept away with a reassuring smile.
“It’ll be fine! I bet it’s a meeting about the starting line up or something.”

Even though it was an obvious lie, Shiho desperately wanted to believe Ann’s words with all her heart, to take comfort in them as she once could in middle school, back when things were somewhat normal. So, for one desperate moment she allowed herself that pleasure, to imagine herself the unburdened high school volleyball star she had fantasised about when she first stepped into Shujin who was only nervous about the next big game.

“Yeah.” Though also a lie, the smile she sent to her friend was not ingenuine. As such it could not last in the cruel reality of their situation and it faded with the momentary illusion she had built, withering and mournful.
“Well, I better go…”

Ann smile was that of a model posing. Beautiful and entirely fake.
“Yup! Good luck!”

It was almost endearing how bad of an actor her friend was, Shiho wondered if it hurt Ann to wear the mask as much as it did her to watch her friend force it on. True smiles had become a precious gem between them since their first year, seemed they would run out soon enough. Their friendship felt like a constant act these days.

With only a nod she left, Mishima trailing behind.

The two volleyball players travelled together through the school in silence.

There wasn’t much either could say to make their situation any lighter, so they simply shuffled through the halls as usual.
Neither spoke of the day before, though that was not unusual. Sometimes it felt like their interactions reset once they parted; having them meet as merely acquaintances over and over again, any words previously shared erased or faded without the aid of time, the only constant that of a shared suffering. Or perhaps it was their shared desire to hide their suffering that made them like this?

Shiho thought to bring it up, but there had always been an unspoken rule between them to let such moments pass without a word and she was not ready or willing to break it. After all, if she did what would stop him from asking his own questions, ones she didn’t know how to answer. He could ask her to explain why she vomited behind the school last term, or about that time he found her scrubbing her hand raw, or why she once came to school with one more wound than the day before, or what caused her to suddenly scream at him that one time after practice.

What if he asked why she’d been wandering up to the roof lately?

No, they were both better off keeping to the norm. No matter how hollow she felt walking in front of Mishima, his movements so quiet that she could be completely alone, the understanding they shared was the closest thing to safety they had.

A sad realisation came to her.
‘Maybe we’re both empty.’

When they reached the PE faculty office she stilled, her legs too petrified to move further. No matter how many times she walked the same path it always felt too short.

Distantly she was aware of Mishima looking at her from the corner of his eye, his lifeless gaze focused only on her for a moment before he tentatively moved forward to knock at the door of the devil himself. Each knock though light weighed heavy on her and became near crushing when the door was opened.

Mishima always looked so small in front of Kamoshida, she wondered if she did too.

As usual he greeted her in a falsely relaxed tone, face deceptively neutral.
“Ah, Suzui, there you are. Come in.”

The same feeling that had kept her glued to the spot now pushed her to enter, far too aware of what stalling could cost her, brushing past the silent boy rooted by the door. Once inside she became a statue once more, senses heightened against her will as she waited for Kamoshida to make his first move, yet the man paused in his approach.

“Oh, Mishima, come back in about half an hour and don’t be late.” The man’s voice lowered. “You weren’t on form yesterday, we need to go over the basics again.”

Shiho tried not to feel a little relief at that, but guiltily allowed herself the knowledge she would not have to endure their tormentor’s presence alone for too long this time.

A beat of silence then a weak response.
“Yes, sir.”

The door closed with an ominously quiet click, then Kamoshida was before her leaning in too close, always too close. He smirks and the slime of his soul slips into his voice. She doesn’t meet his gaze, doesn’t want to see how he looks at her.

“Let’s get to the point, Suzui. Lately I’ve been thinking you haven’t been giving it your all during practice. The year has barely started and you’re already slowing down.” He sighed dramatically. “How are we supposed to win a game if you keep slipping up like this? If you’re wanting to stay on the starting line-up you’ve got to at least try to impress me. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”

Her continued silence and refusal to meet his gaze was met with a quick warning yank at her ponytail.

“Well?” he growled.

“I don’t- I want on the team. I’ll- I’ll try harder.”

“You better, it’s bothersome to have to repeat myself.” Kamoshida tutted. “You’d have more time with your friend if you were more dedicated in practice y’know? Poor girl looks lonely.”

She knew that, she knew how isolated Ann was, but the thought of this man knowing gave her goosebumps. Shiho had to do better, anything to keep him distracted, which is why she did not move as he continued to play with her hair.

“I only call you in like this because of your lacklustre performances. What good are you if you can’t keep up with my standards? We can’t have a weak link playing at nationals and you’ll never get a recommendation for college if you can’t make the team, not with your grades. You know that, right?”

The words nearly make her bite through her own tongue, but she knew he expected a response from her.

“I know. I’ll…do better.”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” he smirked.

Shiho forced herself to breath through her nausea. She knew what he was trying to corner her into, the kind of things he wanted her to say to set up his next move or at least to stroke his ego. Her position on the team was vital but only to show that she was capable, that it was her skill and dedication that got her there not…not anything else. She would work as hard as she needed to but never anything else. Never.

“I’ll keep practicing. I promise I won’t slip up agai—”

Yuuki returned as instructed, wordlessly passing Suzui an ice coffee from one of the vending machines as they passed each other. It didn’t make up for what she’d faced or his small part in it, the two had just got in the habit since they both needed something cool to press on at least one wound after being called out.
Suzui had been the one to start it about half a year ago, they had both gone to the same machine once to get the drink and it had been clear that they had the same intention. He hadn’t understood the first time she handed the cool can to him, it had taken her suggestion of returning the favour later for him to accept it. Now he bought two drinks without much thought. Just another routine they’d quickly settled into.

Like every time before his eyes forced him to notice the signs of Kamoshida’s anger, even if his heart couldn’t allow more than a brief glance. Today Suzui had a fresh bruise on her forehead that was already such a deep purple it would likely turn black soon, the sight alone nearly made him dizzy.

She left without meeting his gaze or saying a word, the only hint of awareness the hand that raised to take the canned drink which then slumped and remained at her side. More bruising peeked out of the bandage of that arm. Even if he still tried to count wounds, he knew he couldn’t see most anyway.
Regular visitors to the office rarely had many visible wounds compared to the rest of the team, Kamoshida was arrogant but careful outside of the gym. Suzui would likely have to blame a stray spike to cover up this time.

Resigned, Yuuki entered the office locking the door himself, idly pondering when he had first been ordered to do that and how long it had taken before he stopped having to be reminded. He doubted he had much autonomy left that Kamoshida could take at this point and it only took him a little over a year to do so, another two and Yuuki would be completely empty. If not worse.

Kamoshida’s voice forced him from his miserable musings.

“Overheard a certain rumour that you and the transfer had been talking.”

Glancing up Yuuki could tell Kamoshida was displeased.

His heart pounded I his ears.
“I didn’t—”

A backhand across his already throbbing cheek cut him off.
First hit of the session, but not the shortest time it had taken to get to it nor the worst, in truth he had expected it. Seems this session was more driven by the need to discipline than anger, Kamoshida aimed for old wounds when he didn’t have much fight left and only wanted to show his power over others. Though he was clearly irritated it was likely Suzui had taken the brunt of it this time, for that a sick part of him was grateful. There would be no new pains for him to endure today.

“I don’t want the team’s reputation to be marred because you went and associated yourself with criminal garbage, understood?”

Even though he knew it useless and that the complaint likely had little baring on this session the excuses still tumbled out, always ready to latch into any hope of mercy.
“He approached me! I-I tried to—”

A second blow, this time to his stomach, apparently his voice wasn’t wanted right now if Kamoshida aimed to knock the wind out of him already, he just hoped his abdomen could handle more bruising, he hated sleeping on his back. Subconsciously Yuuki tried to hide his bandaged arm as he collapsed to his knees, hoping that it not be made a target as he choked back the acid rising in his throat. It hurt, it all hurt so badly but his arm was still too tender, he was certain if it were targeted he would blackout.

“Clearly you didn’t try hard enough. Perhaps a few extra laps around the school during practice will remind you to stay focused.”

A few extra laps on top of all his other extras, he wonders if he’ll be allowed any rest or water afterwards when he fails.

He doesn’t bother to hope, he knows he’ll fail to complete the run and give Kamoshida more reasons to call on him later.

Nor does he bother counting the next few strikes as they come.

There wasn’t much point in keeping score anyway.

Shiho did not go back to the roof again but only because the thought of staying in the same building any longer was unbearable. Every step hurt and hear head throbbed, but she would not linger.

In some ways, going home was the worst part of it all for her: walking through crowds of people without being seen yet holding back the urge to scratch away lingering phantom touches for fear of being noticed, of all the looks and judgements strangers could make of her should they look too closely, all in preparation for the performance that had once been home life.

She knew what her parents saw when they looked at her, she saw how their eyes tried to skip passed the wounds and around her eyes, deflecting the truth before them unwilling to face it. Sometimes her father would go quiet and still, then dismiss himself and hide away for a time, her mother in contrast became overly chatty, forcefully covering it all in a layer of positivity that none of them felt. It had not surprised her all that much in the beginning, she knew her family too well, yet it was still a crushing disappointment.

Her parents were both meek in nature, unsuited for conflict and conditioned to keep their heads low until the storm passed with little complaint, incapable of shielding themselves when trouble came to them yet too emotional to dull their senses completely. They had been taught to survive but never to speak of hardships. As such, the bruises on their once spirited daughter’s skin and her growing silence scared them but addressing them was far worse in their eyes.
It would bring an end to their false peace of mind; it would mean having to do something about it and admit their own weakness.
To acknowledge that there was now a rift between them and the child they failed to protect.

Sometimes Shiho considered telling them about the things they couldn’t see.

The wounds that show no scar, the thoughts that threatened to do greater harm. Her family’s ignorant façade was held together so flimsily, would it remain intact if another wrong came to light?
But she could never quite bring herself to do it. In some ways she too wanted to keep the lie in place, move about her home as if she were any other student with normal school problems that lingered after she left the grounds, talk with her parents without worry, return to the timeless happy moments that were expected for those in their youth and cherished for years to come. To just feel comfortable and relaxed in her own home. To feel loved and love in return with no complications.

Like it was before Shujin.

Caught up in her nostalgia, Shiho nearly fell flat on her face when a small fury body rushed into her path, dropping the half-forgotten canned drink as she righted herself. The cat yelped loudly as it jumped back, arching it’s back as it landed to stare up at her in shock and what strangely looked like frustration but then shifted into some expression of apology.
So caught off guard by this, she barely registered its striking blue eyes and bright yellow collar just before it rushed past her, slinking between the reaches of a few other students before disappearing behind the school building.

Despite herself a slight smile graced Shiho’s lips, mentally thanking the cute creature for clearing her head momentarily, steps toward the station no longer feeling so heavy. Looking to the now dented can she picked it up and pressed it against her head with a hissing breath then continues on her way to the station.

At least now she had something she could bring up at dinner that would keep the mood light until she could escape to her room. Maybe she could talk to Ann about it tomorrow too as a way to make up for her lack of engagement earlier? Gossiping about a mysterious feline wandering school ground was a much better topic than her failing grades. Something to focus on as trains passed her by.

She pressed the can against her head at the skin beneath numbed with cold.

His second day of school had been just as unbelievable as the first, Akira had to wonder if he had ever had a chance of getting through the day without another near-death experience.
At least he now had some idea what was going on at Shujin, even if it only made him hate his new school more, and Ryuji now also shared the experience of ripping his face off to summon some inner ghost that gave him superpowers so he was no longer alone on that front.

Honestly, Akira was beyond grateful that Ryuji would be sticking with him from now on, everything felt so overwhelming it was a relief to have at least one person to rely on and share his troubles with. It helped that his new friend was so eager to voice his grievances over Akira’s arrest and Kamoshida’s abuse too, with the way so many people acted like he was pointlessly nosy for trying to help others he was starting to wonder if he really was overreacting to the unfairness of it all. He had never been that good at voicing his grievances in the first place, so having someone as blunt and emotional as Ryuji empathise for him was kind of relieving.

Though if he were to complain about unfairness, Akira had to acknowledge that maybe it had been a bit of a jerk move to not hear out Morgana’s request, even though they really had never made an agreement of any sort and he was hesitant to do anything the strange cat creature was planning on. It was bad enough being forced into whatever twisted rehabilitation that Igor guy talked about in his dreams, which he was certain was the cause for that voice talking about oaths and arcana after he and Ryuji got back to reality, there was no way he was going to accept some undescriptive deal with something that insisted it was not a cat.

In truth he could not bring himself to deal with any more problems than he already had.

Akira stretched out his back with a tired sigh. The meal with Ryuji had been nice even with the others insistence on feeding him ginger for some reason, but it had not quite soothed over his concerns from the castle.

Learning about Ryuji’s track ruining injury gave new light to his clear hatred and fear of the disgusting coach, Akira could admire him for still trying to stand up to the man after having suffered such a horrific encounter before and all the backlash that had come after, yet it also brought about his primary concern since leaving the dungeons: Yuuki.

Yuuki was living under Kamoshida’s abuse, and if the man had already caused life changing harm to one student there was good reason to think that his old friend was in very real danger. The doll in the prison had been tormented so harshly, if anything like that was happening in reality Yuuki could end up with a serious head injury one day.

There was also the matter of the Takamaki doll but again Akira could only bring himself to process so many horrors in one day and with how metaphorical the castle supposedly was there was no concrete conclusion he could come to as to why there was a bikini clad version of his classmate hanging off of the abusive PE teacher without wanting to throw up. It was not something he could exactly ask about to a girl he had barely talked to anyway so for the meantime Yuuki’s apparent danger would take priority.

As if summoned by his thoughts a flash of white glided by his periphery, snapping his attention towards a figure making their way down the station steps.

Akira did not hesitate to push through the crowd, rushing down the steps and continuing to swim against the current of the city populous while his eyes focused only on the hunched form waiting by the train tracks.

The second he was free of the crowd he called out.
“Yuuki!”

The shorter teen jumped, arms jerking up as if on instinct as he whirled around, eyes widening and glancing around before snapping onto Akira.

“Ah! Ak-Kir-Kurusu?!” Yuuki fumbled, looking around with clear anxious confusion. “You’re still here? When did you—?”

“I need to ask you something.” Akira cut in stepping forward to speak more quietly in the noisy station, heart thumping as the weight of everything he feared squeeze the air out of their shared space.

Yuuki hesitated, shuffling his bag on his shoulder as he glanced up at the train timetables with a frown. The look brought Akira’s attention to the tiny line of discoloured skin on his bottom lip, yet another echo of their shared past that now haunted him with the ghost of a much smaller boy wailing through blood stained lips as his wide eyes silently looked to Akira for help.

“F-fine. Just don’t do that again. You scared me…” Yuuki mumbled.

Akira took a steadying breath, carefully thinking out his options among the swarm of burning questions fighting to leave his mouth. He knew what he wanted to ask but his usual bluntness could work against him this time, if the situation was what he thought it to be just demanding answers was only going to cause more problems. Instead he decided to start simple, something that did not reveal how much he knew about the school’s terrible secret, a normal question an old friend would ask.

“Are you on the volleyball team?” He asked, knowing the answer but still struggling to believe it.

“Yeah…?” Yuuki said slowly, eyes slightly squinted as he gave Akira a side eye. “I’m usually left on the bench though. If I even get that far. Why?”

As Akira silently tried to think through his response Yuuki’s face became pallid. He looked over Akira with something akin to desperation, eyes begging for help from a pain that could not be seen.

“Are you…looking to join?” He wheezed out with dread.

The horror interlaced in that one question and the contrast of Yuuki’s bruised cheek in the stark station lighting solidified Akira’s resolve.

Ignoring the question and leaning forward slightly in an attempt at privacy he asked lowly.
“How did you get those bruises?”

Immediately Yuuki was back on the defensive.
“They’re from practice.”

“Just practice?” Akira pressed.

“There’s…a reason I’m left on the bench.” Yuuki said in a disheartened tone, turning back to the tracks with a grimace. “It’s not that unusual for things like this to happen when training.”

“Yuuki, are you—"

Before the words could reach his lips a rush of air and screeching metal sliced through the tension, reality crashing in without remorse and pulling tides of passengers to and from the now opened doors, jostling the two teens as the passed. Yuuki scrambled away in an instant.

“Look, I- I need to get going.” He called out pointing to the gradually filling traincar. “Um, b-bye!”

Trying to catch up with the sudden rush Akira glanced up at the train, only to find it was going in a completely different direction from Yongen.

“Yuu—!” He tried to call but the shorter boy slipped into the train car with the crowd, disappearing from sight just as the doors slid shut. “Dammit!”

In moments the train was gone taking Yuuki and all those unspoken answers with it. Akira looked around the crowd spotting a few disapproving looks for his short outburst and deciding to shuffle to the other end of the platform, sitting with his arms wrapped tightly around his bag and face pressed down into it as he breathed through his frustration while waiting out his train back to the café.

Again Yuuki had ran away from him.

It stung and the exhaustion of the day was once again creeping on him but Akira refused to let despair sink in, reminding himself that the setting was just as likely to be the cause for Yuuki’s swift escape as the uncomfortable topic was, that he did not yet have all the pieces to understand everything that was going on right now so not to dwell on this setback just yet. He had jumped into the topic too suddenly, but that was because he was still raw from the castle, a night’s sleep to settle his nerves would put him in a better mindset for what he needed to do.

Ryuji had said there was a volleyball rally tomorrow and the afternoon classes were cancelled, Akira would get his answers then, when they all had time to talk about everything calmly.

He would not let this continue.

With the screech of his train coming into the station Akira stood up and walked forward, a burning determination in his soul.