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Kaito slumps down against the ground in the aftermath of his latest sparring match, groaning and letting his axe clatter out of his hand. He’s taken far worse beatings in the past, so it’s not a big deal. This was just a friendly duel with a schoolmate, after all, as opposed to a deadly clash on the battlefield. His housemates don’t usually give him the runaround like that, is the only thing. Kaito can’t remember the last time he was this pooped.
He’ll go heal up in a bit, but for right now he flops onto his back and lets out a long groan, draping his forearm over his eyes. Overdramatic? Maybe. But the lesser pains are always easier to make a fuss about. Despite his situation, Kaito can’t help that his lips twitch into a slight smirk beneath his arm when he hears his opponent chuckling, accompanied by the swish of his robes as he sits down.
“You fight pretty well for someone without a Crest,” Rantaro points out. He makes this sound like a compliment, but Kaito’s smile fades in seconds.
He pulls his arm away from his face and flushes as he retorts, “I do have a Crest!” The respect he’d gained for Rantaro over the course of their fight shrivels up and dries away. This is the first conversation they’ve had with one another—hell, that fight just now was the first proper interaction they’ve ever had, if you don’t count the occasional pleasantry from running into each other around the school, which Kaito doesn’t. Nonetheless, he hadn’t taken Rantaro to be the type to assign value to people based on whether they’re born with a Crest or not, and the idea that he is makes Kaito’s insides curdle with indignation.
Of course, he’s lying. Kaito doesn’t have a Crest and he hates the thought that Rantaro could just figure it out by fighting him. But like hell is he going to say that— or take the statement lying down. Fuck this guy, seriously.
Rantaro’s hands are already raised in surrender before Kaito can go off on his tirade. “I’m sorry,” he says at once. Despite the earnest tone, Kaito doesn’t soften, merely narrowing his eyes. “Really, I am! I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s just… well, I don’t have a Crest myself, is all. I’d heard from around that you didn’t have one, so I figured…” He trails off, a self-deprecating smile replacing the alarm that just played across his features. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to offend.”
Kaito’s hackles lower. The idea that people would actually be talking about him like that, spreading the news of his inadequacy in a world where only the Crested can actually move forward, makes him feel a little sick to his stomach. But at least if Rantaro heard it through word of mouth rather than figuring it out for himself, that means it wasn’t so obvious.
Still, that’s not the only thing that lowers Kaito’s guard.
“You don’t?” He knows it’s probably not fair to sound so incredulous, it’s just… “I would’ve figured you would, with you bein’ the heir and all.”
“Well, that’s your first mistake right there,” Rantaro chuckles lightly. “I’m not the heir. I’m the eldest, sure, and that’s why I’m kind of playing that role right now, but it’s actually my baby sister who’s the heir. She was born with the Crest of Togami. If you strip away my family name and my father’s status, I’m kind of just some guy.”
…Huh. The weirdest thing about that isn’t actually that Rantaro didn’t inherit the Crest. That’s not so unusual, that Kaito’s heard through being here. (Though admittedly he’s not a Crest freak like Nagito so take his words with a grain of salt or what the fuck ever.)
What’s getting him more is the way that Rantaro says it, his eyes softened and his smile… proud, like it doesn’t bother him at all, that despite being the eldest child—the eldest son— he’s always going to be overlooked in the eyes of Fodlan in favour of this little girl.
She must really be something, if that’s the case. Or maybe Rantaro is. Either way, Kaito finds himself relaxing the rest of the way, now that he understands that Rantaro wasn’t giving some kind of backhanded compliment. He sits up and props himself on one hand, waving the other dismissively.
“You sure as hell don’t fight like some guy,” Kaito points out. He gestures at Rantaro’s sword. “You’re amazing with that thing, man! I’ve never had an opponent that good before, Crest or no Crest!” He grins. “Maybe I ought’a think about transferring if that’s what they’re teaching’ you over in the Black Eagles.”
Rantaro laughs, the tension bleeding from his own shoulders. “Let’s not go that far,” he says, though from the way his eyes crease at the sides, Kaito can tell he appreciates the compliment. “It’s all practice. I’m never going to be Lord Amami, or anything, but maybe I can help protect Kikuko and my other sisters when the time comes.” He shakes his head quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m oversharing, aren’t I…? I shouldn’t fill our first conversation with information you didn’t need about my own family.”
“Don’t be like that,” Kaito huffs. “A man shouldn’t apologise when he’s done nothing wrong.” Besides, he likes it more this way, talking about Rantaro rather than about his own lack of a Crest. It’s not as though he’s ashamed of it, and if Rantaro asked him again directly, he might even admit he doesn’t have one— maybe. Since Rantaro doesn’t have one himself. But Kaito doesn’t just lie about his “Crest” for no reason. He’s at the officer’s academy to make his village proud, after all, and if the people here are just going to underestimate him based on something that you either have or don’t have when you’re born… yeah, Kaito’s going to lie, and he won’t feel bad about it, either.
And it’s much easier to avoid getting caught out in a lie when you’re avoiding the conversation topic altogether, so.
“You got more sisters than just the one, then?” Kaito adds, nudging Rantaro’s elbow with his own. He leans forward, folding his arms across his knees. The movement irritates some of the soreness in his muscles, makes a bit of a hiss escape him as he eases forward, but Rantaro is gracious enough not to mention it. Instead, he shifts slightly to face Kaito better, nudging his sword to the side, presumably so he won’t sit on it.
“Right,” Rantaro agrees. “Twelve of them, actually.” He pauses, lip curling with amusement, and then adds, “I know. It’s a lot.”
It’s a good thing he cuts in before Kaito can respond, because his gut reaction is to sputter indignantly. There were women back home in the village who had somewhere near that number of ankle biters, but they always died pretty quickly after the last one was born. The realisation that a noblewoman would have to do the same thing kind of makes Kaito’s chest hurt.
“Kind of, man, yeah!” Kaito manages with a huff. “Is—I mean, your sister with the Crest… she’s the littlest?”
Rantaro nods, that sarcastic smile of his thinning out. Kaito knits his brow. It’s not hard to figure out the implications of that—but they’re pretty gnarly. Kaito’s really not sure he wants to probe any further, both for his own peace of mind and for the sake of not making Rantaro talk about anything weird. Still, it’s enough to make Kaito’s skin crawl. He grew up sheltered enough to, despite knowing that people did exist who went crazy about Crests, manage to dodge the hubbub almost entirely. He met his first noble when he came to this school after all—and subsequently the first person who actually had one of those things. The reality of how people in Fodlan get about Crests still hasn’t really sunk in yet.
It’s starting to now, though, that much is for sure.
Despite the fact that Kaito’s already resolved not to ask anything else, Rantaro clarifies lightly, “Different mothers. My father has something of a reputation, haha. But nothing you wouldn’t expect from someone like him.”
Kaito exhales. Okay. So it’s not that bad. He’s about to ask for clarification, for Rantaro to explain what he means by nothing you wouldn’t expect, but he stops with his mouth open as he observes the look in the other boy’s eye. There’s a bitterness there, subtle enough that if Kaito turned his head the right way, it probably wouldn’t be present at all. Rantaro’s smile seems good-humoured enough without it.
It… makes sense, really, that Rantaro would look so composed talking about this. He’s a noble. His private life has probably been made the business of plenty of others in the past, especially when it pertains to his baby sister and her Crest. But Rantaro didn’t push Kaito on the topic of his own powers—didn’t try and needle him into admitting he doesn’t have a Crest, like Kokichi from the Golden Deers might’ve, damn Kokichi—and though Rantaro might be too polite to say anything about it… he’s obviously uncomfortable. Maybe nobody else would notice it, but Kaito has.
And Kaito didn’t earn the love of his village by ignoring how other people feel.
“Well, forget all of that,” Kaito says, waving his hand again. “You can tell me more about your family if you want—but what I really wanna know is how you got so damn good at fighting. If it’s not something you’re learning in the Black Eagles, you’ve probably got some kind of trick up your sleeve! Right?”
“Is it really so hard to believe I’m just a good fighter?” Rantaro asks, laughing slightly. Even as he rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, Kaito can see the way his shoulders relax, the bitterness in his eyes fading away. He’s got to be relieved at the subject change. That’s not so surprising, really.
Kaito will just have to be mindful going forward, of what he thinks Rantaro will be okay talking about. He wouldn’t want to be pushed when he’s not ready to share, either, so it’s not like it’s exactly unfair.