Chapter Text
Kisaki wishes it was the sun glaring through his blinds to wake him up. Even the sound of the birds chirping their song in the early morning would have been fine.
With Kisaki's wonderful luck, neither of those was to blame for rousing him awake. Sun pools in his room beyond his blinds, stripes of light that should be splaying across his room uninterrupted.
There's a draft from his open window and something stands foreign in his room. Something that wasn't there when he went to bed. Somebody unrecognisable to half-awake eyes, hovering over him like a scene straight out of a sleep paralysis episode.
He doesn't think twice before he grabs at the nearest thing next to him. A potted succulent, throwing it as hard as he can in a panic. There's a yelp, and he reaches for the next one, scrambling to sit up and book it the fuck out of his room.
The second plant pot hits its target and he throws a third while scrambling out of his bed. Before he can pick up the hairdryer on the floor, there comes a recognisable voice from the presumed thief.
"Wait, I'm sorry, stop throwing things at me!"
Kisaki is strewn half across the floor, legs still on the bed when he stops. "Hanma?"
"Yeah, it's me, Hanma!" Hanma curses, brushing remnants of clay pots and soil off his shirt. There's a mild sense of guilt when he sees it stains, but it doesn't last. "What the hell was that for?"
Kisaki gathers himself back on his bed, wincing both at the carpet burn on his elbow and the carpet ruined with damp soil. He slips his glasses on from the nightstand and takes a glance at his clock, seven in the morning. He was bound to wake up by now anyway, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that he woke up to Hanma Shuji lingering over him like a goddamn lunatic.
"What do you mean what the hell was that for?" He spits, gesturing to his ruined carpet in annoyance, "You're the one who broke into my house at seven in the morning."
"I didn't break-in, I had a key!"
"Then, pray tell, why is my window open?"
"It was hot in here, that's all. I made a copy of your key when you gave it to me to get something from your house, remember?"
Kisaki looks at him in disbelief. As if that's any better than breaking in, he thinks, but it's too early in the morning to argue. Resting his face in his hands, Kisaki lets out a muffled groan, "What do you want, Hanma?"
"Let's do the three-legged race together for sports day."
"What."
"You hook your arms together, you tie your left legs together, and you-"
"I know what the three-legged race is, you idiot!" It doesn't take long for Kisaki to give up on trying to get any sort of valid reason from Hanma. He ditches his bed entirely and rifles through his drawers for clean clothes. "I'm not going to sports day."
Hanma sputters behind him, tailing every step Kisaki makes as he drags himself to the shower. "Why not!" Not much of a question, rather a statement shouted into Kisaki's ear. "We would make the perfect team, come on."
It takes every ounce of self-control he has to keep himself away from the unused metal bat in the hallway closet. His parents had bought it for him to try and tempt him to get into sports, but all it had done was have him accidentally slam a softball straight into a certain Sano girl's face when he tried it.
"Get out of my house." Kisaki punctuates every word before slamming the door behind him. Every bark from behind the door drowns out with cold water, washing away the morning's shock.
Kisaki wasn't the best at sports, that's not news, and has skipped every sports event he's been called to attend since grade school. Basic tasks like running, throwing, kicking a ball, none of it went well for him.
He's not weak per se, in a fight against the average delinquent he has the upper hand. But the average delinquent also has the same three moves straight out of a fight game made with a twenty-pixel limit. It's like fighting a kitchen timer. Anyways, that wasn't the issue at hand for Kisaki, the problem was the possibility of being dragged to sports day.
This sports day would no doubt center around the two most obnoxious teams in the school, and he was to blame for the creation of one of them.
Tenjiku, the first team, has only recently formed but is a menace all the same. Brought from nothing but Kisaki's own words, began by revitalising a former legend, Izana Kurokawa. He had formed the group for his own selfish needs when Toman kicked him out.
Toman, a team made before Kisaki had even transferred. Even then, they have yet to take a loss and have butted heads with Tenjiku ever since the two came together.
Both teams meeting one another, and clashing, was orchestrated by Kisaki. It didn't matter then, but now? Now it had all come back to haunt him.
There's not a doubt in his mind that Hanma will be begging on his knees to get Kisaki to take part, let alone show up. He can hear the whining already. You brought Tenjiku together, you have to take part. For the team, Kisaki, for the team!
He shuts off the water before he can think about it any longer. His day would consist of sketching plants, lingering in the museum gift shop and spending the rest of the time in his room.
There was no need for unnecessary physical exertion, which meant no need to show up on sports day. His honour student status would take the fall for him.
It takes far too long for him to realise that in the midst of his morning panic, he had forgotten to bring in a towel. A personal pool was being made on the bathroom tiles by the second.
Hanma's fault, he mutters. Shaking the water off of his hands, he opens the door with a click.
"Kisaki, you forgot your towel."
And back in he goes. Kisaki contemplates waiting out his day in the bathroom.
First of all, how did Hanma know where the towels were? How long did Hanma wait for him out there, and why the hell was Hanma still in his house? Alas, he could ponder these questions all he wanted, but none of them fixed his need for a towel.
At a loss of options, he takes a breath and opens the door no wider than his foot. He stretches his hand only inches past the door, nothing more, nothing less. Kisaki has never felt so undignified.
He takes a mental note to change the locks on his window, and every other lock at that. It'll be a futile attempt to keep Hanma out, Kisaki is aware of his questionable talents, but he hopes the mere message it should send is enough.
When he does emerge from the bathroom, peeking out to check each side of the hallway, Hanma is nowhere to be seen. At least not in plain sight. Though Kisaki has lost all hope that Hanma has actually left his house, he prays to himself all the same as he trudges to the kitchen.
If he could get through breakfast without a hitch, then the day might just be salvageable.
"You eat cookie crisp cereal?"
God hates him. Kisaki snatches the, very much full by the way, cereal box from Hanma and sets it on the counter with a scowl. "Didn't I tell you to get out of my house?"
He ignores the pout Hanma gives him and makes a point to create a wall between them with the cereal box when Hanma splays himself halfway across the counter. It's hard when a person made up of ninety percent legs blocks your path to the fridge.
"I'm not moving until you come with me," Hanma purrs, his eyes lit up in mischievous glee. "I'll treat you to lunch if you do."
"Move your legs, Hanma."
"I can beat up your opponents if you want, give you an easier time."
"Hanma. Your legs."
"I can put your fake tan on you if that's what you want. That way I can get all the spots you miss, like-"
"Hanma!"
Kisaki can't help the way his voice raises a notch at the implications, flailing his hands in front of him in embarrassment. "Fine, fine, I'll go with you." The exasperation in his voice isn't exaggerated. "Now for the last time, move your legs."
"So you do want me to put on your fake tan?"
Hanma snaps his head back in laughter at the burning glare Kisaki gives him, moving out of the way with a theatrical swing of his legs.
Each clack of Kisaki's shoes against the pavement is a painful reminder of the ruined potential of the day. His mind fills with no less than a hundred ways to kill Hanma by lunch. Earlier even, if people are particularly excited about sports day and judging by the noise when the two walk past the front gates, Kisaki has finally had a stroke of luck.
It's too hot for everybody to be standing in such tight-knit groups, so close to each other that a path divides them as if someone had parted them like the red sea. So much for sportsmanship, Kisaki thinks, squinting under the bright light of the sun.
Somebody calls out Hanma's name and soon enough, they're swarmed by the members of Tenjiku.
"Hanma, we need you to sub in for the relay race." Kisaki recognises the voice to be Rindo's, the younger of the Haitani brothers. "Kakucho twisted his ankle and can't run until after lunch."
Before either of them can even think of a reply, Shion barges past him and grabs Hanma by the shoulders, shaking him in a rather violent manner. "No, no! You have to run in the eight-hundred meter, I signed up for it but I didn't know that shot put was at the same time." The crowd rolls their eyes. "You've gotta help me out man, please!"
Kisaki slinks himself away when people start tripping each other up trying to get to Hanma. Death by being trampled by an overexcited crowd was not on his to-do list today but to be fair, none of it was.
It's almost hurtful how easy it was to slip away, to be forgotten by the crowd. His hand brushes over the burn he had gotten in the morning, pressing on the swelling absentmindedly. That's the life he's paved for himself, Kisaki supposes. He shouldn't complain about a position he put himself in, if Hanma was getting all the attention then so be it.
He composes himself in the bathroom, leaning in closer to the mirror in faux concern for his eyeliner. There's new graffiti on the walls, so at least he didn't miss that. The spraypaint above his mirror reads 'bet you can't reach this, short ass!' Kisaki has to tell himself it's not for him.
"Kisaki?"
Kisaki cannot catch a break. He takes a second to breathe before turning his head to the doorway where a more than miffed Chifuyu stands. "Matsuno." He greets, giving a curt nod before turning back to the mirror.
"Just my luck to run into a Tenjiku fucker this early in the morning," Chifuyu takes the mirror next to him, seemingly to fix his own appearance. "What did you even sign up for? There's no chess on sports day if you didn't know."
Despite their strained relationship, Kisaki has to bite back a laugh. "You think I want to be here?"
"Please, you think I believe that? Everybody knows you're up to some shady shit, even if I'm the only one to call you out on it."
"Believe it today, Matsuno. Take my word for it, I'd rather be anywhere else."
"You're a bad fucking liar, Kisaki." Chifuyu pivots himself to face him, but Kisaki stays fixated on his reflection. It's funny to think that the one time Kisaki is telling the truth, Matsuno thinks he's lying. "At least Hanma gets along with his own team, did anybody even say so much as a hello to you when you walked in?"
Right, well, that was a little uncalled for. Kisaki is done with this. He takes his hands off the sink and turns to Chifuyu, giving him a wry smile before attempting to move past him with one last quip. "I take it Baji is getting along too well with Kazutora for your liking, hm?"
That seems to sever the last string that held Chifuyu together as he smashes the mirror, swiping a shard from the pile it makes. It's pressed just below his jugular in the blink of an eye, had Kisaki blinked even once. There's not a single hint of change in Kisaki's expression.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Chifuyu angles the dull side of the blade to his throat, pressing firmly against his skin. It's not enough to make a mark, but part of Kisaki wishes it would. He'd sit back and enjoy the show when Hanma found out who had left it. "I can't fuckin' stand you."
Of course, Kisaki knew exactly what he was talking about. He had orchestrated a previous fight that ended up with Baji and Kazutora getting a month of detention. It would have been an ingenious plan to ruin Toman, had he not been caught out by that bastard Hanagaki Takemichi.
Even then, it's hard to say he regrets it. The disapproving glares he gets when he walks past their group are thrilling.
They stay there in the center of the bathroom in a silent standoff for a while, only the faintest of exhales coming from the both of them. Chifuyu looks at him with such fervour he's almost flattered. Eventually, the bell rings, whisking them both off to their homerooms. Chifuyu exits with an audible 'tsk' and Kisaki follows suit, but not before checking his throat in a mirror that wasn't broken.
He's no farther than a single turn away from his homeroom when Hanma stops him with one hand, punishment, on Kisaki's shoulder. Kisaki is swivelled against his will towards Hanma, who leans in as if he were going in for a hug but doesn't quite get there. "Kisaki! Where were you?"
Kisaki opens his mouth to speak, only for Hanma to interrupt him the moment he tries. "I got bullied into subbing in for Kakucho in the relay race, and I have to take part in the eight-hundred meter now too." Hanma takes his hands off Kisaki's shoulders to count on his fingers. "And the fifteen-hundred, the basketball game, the tug of war..."
"Right, right, I get it," Kisaki stops him with a raise of his hand, "and you're telling me because?"
"Oh, right, I told Izana that you would do the hundred meter."
"What."
"You line yourself up on this track, and then you-"
"I know what the hundred meter-" Kisaki stops midsentence to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. History was not going to repeat itself this soon. "Forget it. I'm not running it, it's bad enough that I'm here." He neglects to mention his run-in with Matsuno.
To Kisaki's surprise, Hanma doesn't push him further, only nods in thought. "Alright, I'll get someone else to run it. Meet me before the three-legged race starts, okay?"
"Meet you where?"
"See you later, 'saki!"
"Meet you where?!"
By the time Kisaki finishes his sentence, Hanma is long gone, leaving Kisaki to walk to his homeroom alone. There's an uneven mix of boos to cheers when he walks in, undoubtedly from the uneven mix of Toman to Tenjiku members in his class. He can hear Hina shushing the Toman members before giving him a friendly wave. Kisaki waves back.
"There he is!" Izana pulls him in by the waist when Kisaki passes by his desk, "Thanks for running the hundred-meter for me, friend." Then, pulling him closer and eyeing Kakucho who's only two seats over from them, "You know how Kakucho gets when he's injured. So reckless, right?"
Izana cackles, and Kisaki can only laugh uncomfortably along. Although Kisaki didn't quite understand the nature of their relationship, he supposes it could be worse. Especially considering his penchant for making enemies. It makes him a little happy to be treated so familiarly. "Anyways, I have to take care of him. Thanks again, captain!"
Ah, right, captain. Kisaki wasn't technically the captain of the team, Izana was. He had stated so during Tenjiku's creation, but Izana seemed to refer to him as it regardless. Kisaki clears his throat and awkwardly pushes himself out of Izana's grip. "About the hundred-meter race, Izana."
"Kakucho! Won't you say hi?" Izana calls out, unfazed by Kisaki's attempt to discuss something with him. Kakucho turns to them but only gives a half-hearted wave to Izana before turning back around. There's an icepack tied to his ankle. "He's just being coy, don't worry about it. What about the hundred-meter race?"
"I can't run it."
"Did you twist your ankle, too?"
"Well, no, but-"
"Don't worry about it!" Izana claps Kisaki on the back with enough force to knock the wind out of him, laughing and sitting back down. Sometimes he's glad to be on Izana's good side, or what he thinks could be considered his good side.
Taking the conversation as mission accomplished, Kisaki takes his own seat. Now he could spend the day strolling around in leisure, even sabotaging a few Tomans here and there if he's feeling up to it. A wicked part of him wonders what Matsuno happened to sign up for.
The time for homeroom to end rolls around and they're sent off to the field in a rather disorderly fashion, with Kisaki walking belatedly behind the rest of his class. It wasn't like he was in a rush. Kisaki wasn't the one signed up for half a dozen sports events, unlike the person who had dragged him here in the first place.
Hanma signing up for so many events technically left more than enough openings for Kisaki to leave unnoticed. It would hardly be a difficult task to slip away to the museum, as he had wanted to this morning. Yet whenever Kisaki glances at the open iron gate, swung open as if to welcome him to leave, a pang of something that Kisaki doesn't want to call guilt hits him square in the chest. The museum would be open tomorrow too, he supposes.
There are a few stands getting set up as Kisaki walks by with signs painted in vibrant reds, yellows and whatever colours confetti came in. Judging from what had been set up so far, the range for food wasn't exactly lacking. He makes a mental note to come back to the crepe stand on the outskirts of the field later.
"Kisaki!" If one more person calls his name today, Kisaki might just snap. "Hey, Kisaki!"
Belatedly, Kisaki turns to face the person who had dared call his name. He knew the face, it was hard not to, considering the scar. "Inui, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Have you seen Coco?"
Inui wasn't a person Kisaki had interacted with often, if at all, but he knew well of the... to put it delicately, complicated relationship between Inui and Kokonoi. Kokonoi, who was currently affiliated with Tenjiku. Inui, who was currently affiliated with Toman. Despite this, it was obvious they were smitten with each other, but both far too awkward to initiate the first move.
A strange sense of irony washes over Kisaki when he wonders why they don't forget the team nonsense and date each other already.
"I don't think the whereabouts of a Tenjiku member is much of your concern," Kisaki puts little effort into hiding the sneer in his voice. "But if it helps, I do believe I saw him signing up for the basketball game with Hanma." It's a weak lie, but the amount of confidence he puts behind it seems to convince Inui, who pulls a face at the news.
"Basketball?" He mutters, pausing for a moment before shaking his head and going back to a more reserved expression. Inui gives a small nod, brushing a strand of his own hair out of his eyes with a tight smile. "Thanks."
The smile Kisaki attempts to return isn't quite pleasant, as he's made painfully aware of when Inui's expression turns into a grimace at his face. He drops the smile. "Anytime."
Inui scurries off without another word with Kisaki watching him as he seems to get more and more deflated the farther he gets. Although Kisaki doesn't try to help, rather the opposite, a small part of him hopes that Kokonoi and Inui do sort themselves out. He considers holding off on sabotaging them any further for now.
A deafening round of cheers tears his attention to a crowd of red and black around the track, a mixed chant of several different names piquing his interest.
Not even a second after he approaches the crowd, somebody grips him by the arm and pulls him into the densest part of the crowd. Kisaki thanks the crowd for being loud enough to cover the unfavourably high-pitched screech he let out.
"Kisaki, come here!" Rindo pulls him in further, dragging him through the crowd with such speed that Kisaki's feet can barely touch the ground before having to move again. The 'come here' wasn't so much a demand as a warning. "You're a smart guy, right? You like tech stuff?"
He's not given a chance to answer before Rindo shoves him up steps, up to the front of a DJ booth, with at least half of both Tenjiku and Toman standing in front of it. Each expectant stare feels like a bullet to the chest.
"I need you to man the stand for me, alright?"
"Wait, no, I can't-"
"Here are the tempo controllers, and here are the equalizers, don't touch the queue." Rindo pushes a pair of headphones into Kisaki's arms before running off with a salute. "Thanks, man. I owe you one!"
Kisaki stands paralysed in the center of the stand, a deer in headlights. It's not long before the crowd starts shouting, whoops of pure excitement as they call for the music. The blow of a whistle shoots straight through his ears, and Kisaki regains the movement in his legs.
More eyes on the race, God knows which one, meant fewer eyes on Kisaki. The longer the race keeps the crowd occupied, the more time Kisaki has to figure out what the hell he's doing. But there's not a single button, knob or slider that he can recognise. Numbers and lines mean nothing to Kisaki for once in his life, and it's not in the 'academically above you' way he enjoys.
He fumbles with the controls, unsure of what any of them actually do until he hits one that kick the speakers into a roar that shakes the platform he's on. There are a few winces from the crowd and even fewer cheers. Embarrassment floods through him and a heavy feeling in his chest seem to press up against his lungs. Kisaki takes a moment to read over the writing on the mixer once more, sliding down what he presumes to be the volume as soon as he can and the crowd turns from grimaces to wild hoots and cheers. Kisaki isn't sure there wasn't a scream somewhere in the midst of it.
Though he doesn't recognise the song himself, people start singing along albeit rather out of tune, and relief washes over him. There are no longer a thousand eyes on him and his chest feels lighter, but Kisaki doesn't wait for it to return. He slips out of the booth to sit on the steps, out of sight and out of mind.
It couldn't be any later than ten in the morning, but exhaustion sets in quick and Kisaki can't do much else than rest his head in his hands, pushing his glasses up into his hair. He curses Hanma for being so athletic, signing up for so many events rather than staying by his side.
"I didn't think you were into DJing." A voice half-shouts over the music, though Kisaki can tell the person is at most only a foot away. His eyes stay glued to the steps, but Kisaki lifts his head from his hands to reply.
"I'm not, Rindo had to do," Kisaki pauses, shaking his head, "something, I don't know."
"Here, we'll go somewhere else," A hand takes his arm, much gentler than Rindo had. "You look like shit."
And though following a stranger wasn't exactly the first thing Kisaki would do in his current state, he doesn't resist when he's tugged away to who knows where. All Kisaki cares about is that the music is getting quieter, and his limbs feel lighter. He keeps his eyes focused awkwardly on the grass and when Kisaki feels a hand pull him down to sit, he sits.
"Kisaki!" Kisaki can't help but snap his head up in surprise when he hears Hina cheerfully calling out to him with Emma by her side, and Kisaki realises too late that he's been sat down in the midst of a picnic. "Come, come, you look tired."
Hinata Tachibana, the sole mention of her name is enough to bring forth a myriad of embarrassing encounters with her. Although the feelings have waned away to nothing and their relationship isn't entirely amiss, memories of his childhood crush still mortify him.
"Ah..." To say he's at a loss for words is an understatement, and it doesn't help when any possible words Kisaki could think of being knocked out of him with a hearty thump on the back. He has to bring a hand to his glasses to stop them from falling off of his face.
"Alright, I'll leave him to you two."
"Of course! Come back soon though, Draken," Emma coos, and time stops for Kisaki. Draken? Ryuguji Ken, Toman's second in command, one of the strongest athletes in the school and Toman's second in command had just walked Kisaki to a picnic like he was a little kid. Kisaki gathers the courage to turn his head, his neck shifting in trembling movements as he turns to Draken. He towers over Kisaki, casting a larger-than-life shade that engulfs him.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the best he can do is weakly mouth 'Why?' to which Draken responds with a mild shrug. Toman hated Tenjiku, and they hated Kisaki even more so. Not that he could blame them to be fair, he had caused his fair share of problems with them.
Draken bends down, cups his hand to Kisaki's ear, "Don't tell him I said this, but Mikey doesn't like those loud crowds either. He's a menace just like you, you know."
Kisaki isn't certain that he's not hallucinating. Draken pulls away with a wink, "He just doesn't get caught."
Draken walks away with one last smile at Emma, leaving Kisaki with the hands of her and Hina. Manning the DJ booth doesn't sound so bad all of a sudden, but he doesn't get to consider leaving before Emma pulls him closer to them by the wrist. With the way the day is going, Kisaki wonders if he's still going to still have his arms by the end of it all.
"Hina and I were just talking about our boyfriends," She says with a giggle, Hina giggling along with her, "I feel bad for Takemichi's mirror. At least Draken has a sense of humility, right?"
She laughs at her own joke, and with Hina laughing along too, Kisaki feels a little better about sitting with an ex-crush and a person he once hit with a poorly aimed softball. "So what about you and Hanma, hm?" Hina waggles her eyebrows, leaning forward and resting her round chin on her hand.
The fake tan is a poor coverup for the beet-red Kisaki's face turns to, and his mind can't think of a single coherent response to Hina's implications. "We're, we're not-" Kisaki stutters, "He's, I'm, it's not,"
Clearing his throat, keeping his hand held to his face to hide the flustered expression on it, Kisaki manages to eek out a single sentence past his lips. "We're not...like that." He hates himself for the way his voice cracks at the end.
"Oh?" Emma sighs in almost wistful disappointment. "That's a shame, I thought you were. You two are always together."
Hina nods thoughtfully alongside Emma, "Yeah, you even came together here. I always see you guys leave school together, too."
"Don't you guys have matching bento boxes?"
"Yeah, and come to think of it, he's always taken fights on your behalf, right?"
"Really? That's so romantic!"
Emma swoons, clasping her hands and staring off as if in a daydream. "You're so lucky, Kisaki," She slides a package of strawberries from the blanket closer to them and pops one in her mouth. "Hanma is all over you."
Kisaki cannot bury himself any further into himself, pulling his knees to his chest with his head in his arms. Even if he had managed to weasel his way out of the single race he was supposed to run, the day still managed to get worse and worse. Hanma breaking into his house, being forced into DJing even if for a brief moment, and now Hina and Emma's conversation... Well. Been there, still there, probably stuck there until somebody saves him.
"Kisaki!"
Or somebody to bring him to a fate worse than boy talk and DJs.