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It starts with scones.
At least, that's what En tells people at the university when they ask; then he'll take out his lunchbox and cram food into any mouth within reach. That tends to distract people, and by the time they recover from their involuntary food coma, they're too busy begging for the recipe to pry any further.
*
When he was seven, Ibushi found himself boarding a train for the furthest reaches of Hokkaido, further than even his parents' money could reach. Near a small village covered by unblistered snow, he sank down near water as clear as the Winter air and remained there until his fingers turned purple under his gloves.
The memory is worn thin as the old heirloom tablecloths and faded to grey and white, but it has settled solid into the recesses of his mind. From time to time he reaches in to drag it up out of the depths, draping it over his eyes like liquid glass. He sees the ice as it had been; utterly transparent, a deceptive shield that shattered at the barest touch from an outsider.
He had watched it shimmer and fall, slipping like silk through his fingers and under the surface of the pond, the small fragments glinting in the sunlight, and where they slid over his fingertips they had been cold enough to burn.
From the first time they set eyes on one another, Kinshirou had seemed so to Ibushi. After the voyage, Ibushi returned home to a different kind of cold, committing to memory the knowledge that beautiful things are fragile. What his parents had not understood, and what they entreated him to forget, was the knowledge that the destruction of something enduringly beautiful could give rise to something better.
If one is to deal with living things, they eventually learn to appreciate the tragedy of a dying star.
More importantly, if one is to deal with an old family business, they will very quickly learn that there are some things they are powerless to prevent. Pragmatism, as it is, suits old money better than pride.
For this reason, Ibushi sets aside the seeds of bitterness he has left unloved and unwatered and approaches Kinugawa on the way to the club meeting after school.
"If I could have a moment of your time?"
Kinugawa turns to him in surprise. "Is something the matter with Kin-chan?"
"Not in terms of anything worrying," Ibushi clarifies. "The truth is, I heard you were skilled in the kitchen, and Kinshirou is undoubtedly a fan of your cooking. I don't suppose you'd be willing to teach me?"
So in once sense, it starts knee-deep in the snow out in rural Hokkaido, but in another sense, it does start with scones, after all.
*
The first thing Ibushi learns about Kinugawa is that the guy is messy. Kinugawa understands concepts and cookbooks, but he measures out ingredients the same way European chefs measure out pinches of salt. In other words, he doesn't measure at all. He calculates ratios in his head and messes up halfway through doubling the recipe, and then he throws in something that isn't even mentioned to compensate.
"Are you sure this will be alright?" Ibushi is forced to ask at last, after witnessing Kinugawa empty the entire bag of flour into the bowl. He notices idly that Kinugawa is using a relatively high-end mixer by one of the family subsidiaries.
"It's fine," Kinugawa assures him, spraying specks of flour over both their aprons when he waves his hand carelessly. It's the mark of someone who knows they won't be doing their own laundry that week; Kinshirou, for instance, is similar in that regard. Ibushi starts to see why the two of them had been such good friends, once. "Nothing wrong with changing things up a little."
Ibushi starts to see why Kinshirou is still finding it difficult to understand Kinugawa.
The heart of the matter is that while he's not exactly messy, per se, Kinugawa is somewhat careless. Kinshirou, on the other hand, is comfortingly rigid. He is predictable, and easy to handle. It hadn't been difficult to satisfy him, once Ibushi had narrowed down his likes and dislikes, and there is something intoxicating about possessing the capability to make a person smile at a moment's notice.
Even so, things change.
Once, Ibushi had managed to cultivate a rose of intense vermillion. It flowered, faded, and by the end of the week it was indistiguishable from the tens of other flowers it had breathed its last with.
As much as he longs for many of the luxuries of his past, time is yet one more thing Ibushi has no power over. Perhaps Kinshirou will understand that too, soon.
*
"You're an excellent cook yourself," Kinugawa comments while they wait for the scones to finish baking. "I'm not sure why you asked me for help."
Things are changing, thinks Ibushi.
"I wanted to get to know Kinshirou's childhood friend better," he says instead.
Kinugawa looks at him consideringly. "You really treasure Kin-chan."
"Who doesn't want their friends to be happy?" Ibushi counters. He rests his elbows against the counter. "Are we going to make jam, too?"
Thankfully, Kinugawa doesn't seem too put off by the change of topic. He seems rather easygoing in general, now that Ibushi is paying attention; it's unexpected, but not unwelcome. "Do you prefer a sweet jam or a tart one?"
"I'm not sure," Ibushi says. "Surprise me."
Kinugawa laughs at that, his entire face radiant with delight. Well. It seems Kinugawa's started his surprises early, because Ibushi could swear his heart stops dead for a moment.
"You have a nice smile," he says when he recovers.
Kinugawa laughs it off. "You're as direct as En-chan."
Kinshirou would have a fit at how many times Kinugawa references 'En-chan' in the space of a minute. Ibushi feels like he knows the guy better than he knows himself already.
Still, there's no denying that Kinugawa, for all his inadequacies, knows his way around the kitchen. The scones are better than any Ibushi's ever bought, regardless of the lemonade and countless other interesting ingredients Kinugawa threw into the bowl in his fits of ingenuity.
"I couldn't replicate this, though," Ibushi says ruefully. "I don't think even you remember what you put in here."
Kinugawa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "I got a little carried away, sorry. At least you can bring them to school tomorrow!"
Ibushi sighs, but somehow over the past few hours he's begun to find Kinugawa almost endearing, and he finds himself fighting back a grin as well.
"Ah, I almost forgot!" Kinugawa slaps himself on the forehead. "I have to go deliver this to En-chan, so is it alright if we finish here for today?"
Kinugawa doesn't even wait for an answer before he starts gathering dishes for the dishwasher. Again, Ibushi recognises the careless entitlement common to those brought up in money. He wonders idly what would have happened if he had protested.
"Sorry I had to rush off," Kinugawa says as they're putting on their shoes.
"Don't worry about it, Kinugawa," Ibushi replies. "It can't be helped."
Kinugawa runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Thanks for today, though," he says. "It was fun. And Arima?"
"Yes?"
"I get the feeling we'll be spending more time together from now on, so please, just call me Atsushi."
*
When Ibushi goes to the beach, he slips something light over his shoulders; when he leaves home he drapes something over his shoulders - if not his own jacket, then Kinshirou's. If he can't take a jacket, he'll wear a vest; if it's too warm for anything heavier than a delicate shirt he'll slip a pendant around his neck. Anything that reminds him I am not free. He has been doing it for as long as he can remember, the shoulderpads in his blazers pressing into him like shackles, the collar around his neck brushing against his trachea.
I am not free.
Before he met Kinshirou, Ibushi wore his ornate family garments like a shield against the judgement of his cousins whose smiles were spiked with jealousy and the disappointment of the parents he wanted to make proud. It had been a choice between a rock and a hard place, and so Ibushi bound himself to rules and regulations, quiet and deferent during the day, the early hints of mischief lying dormant in the quiver of his lips when he uttered fervent thank yous.
At night, he wandered. Slipping out to eavesdrop on his parents' conversations, he worked his way through to leaping from the window in the early hours of the dawn to lie in the embrace of flowering bushes and stare at the stars. He travelled from park to park, learning to recognize the trees as he leapt past, and one night he saw another child his age sleeping with the grass curled over their fingers as if they themselves had become part of the moonlit landscape.
Naturally, Ibushi had said hi, and the child had risen, eyes pinched and swollen but still ablaze with pride, glazed over in a way Ibushi could only partly comprehend as a child. Are you alright? Ibushi had asked, slipping easily into formal speech. Fascinated, he watched Kinshirou struggle to arrange his features into the cold, haughty mask he would come to perfect over the years. At the time, it had only seemed like the shattered fragments of a mirror.
Ibushi looked at Kinshirou and saw something beautiful in that brokenness, and when Kinshirou rested a hand on Ibushi's shoulder and said, I'm fine, the added weight hadn't seemed like a burden at all.
"Did you know," says Yufuin, veering off into yet another of his meaningless 'fun facts', "that freedom is essentially opposed to equality?"
Atsushi stops massaging Kinshirou's shoulders long enough for Ibushi to take over. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, if you make everyone equal, they'll all be the same. No individuality." Yufuin yawns and stretches back in his chair; Ibushi is highly tempted to nudge the chair back a little and deposit Yufuin onto the floor where he belongs. Instead, he shifts aside to allow Atsushi to reclaim Kinshirou's left shoulder. Infuriatingly, he agrees, somewhat, with what Yufuin is saying.
"No, no," Zaou interjects. "I love all my girls equally, and they all love me back just as equally, so that means I'm free to do whatever I like with any of them! It's the ultimate freedom!"
Naruko shoots his classmate a disgusted look. "From an economic standpoint, equality will increase the freedom of some but limit that of others. Overall, it's safe to say that those who have the financial power to do as they please have earned the right to do so."
"You have to have capital to start making gains," Zaou points out, to Ibushi's surprise. He supposes spending so much time together must have caused Naruko's vocabulary to extend a little to Zaou, too.
"I believe in equal treatment," Akoya declares, twirling a strand of hair around one finger. Ibushi sees where things are heading and decides to move subtly closer to Zaou. "Beautiful things for those who deserve them, and the scraps for commoners like you."
As expected, Zaou lunges at Akoya, shaking a fist in fury. Ibushi doesn't quite reach him in time to stop him, but he supposes that Akoya had it coming. Moreover, watching Akoya rebuff Zaou's strikes with a disdainful expression and black-belt techniques, he isn't certain whether he should have tried to suppress Akoya instead.
"Stand down," barks Kinshirou, surprisingly grumpy for someone who's just been treated to a massage. It's probably because Atsushi has moved the massage business back to Yufuin's side.
"The point I was trying to make," Yufuin continues, as if people haven't forgotten his useless words already, "is that if people are given a choice, they'll often choose either to subject themselves to others or to try and assert their authority over them."
"Sort of like S&M?" Atsushi asks, almost making Ibushi spill the tea he's trying to pour. From the way Kinshirou has frozen in his seat, Ibushi doesn't think their principled student council president had been expecting that, either.
Yufuin nods, pointing at Atsushi with a sort of devious pride. "You've got it. Like how you're so sadistic, Atsushi, always trying to make people do things they don't want to do."
"That goes for you too then," retorts Atsushi indignantly, and honestly, this doesn't seem to be the sort of conversation school-aged children should be having in public. Ibushi is fairly certain that Kinshirou, at least, would like to be several continents away right now. "See if I ever give you a massage again!"
"But see, that's your choice. I just benefit from it."
"What's wrong with choosing to do things for other people?"
"It's not that it's wrong." Yufuin frowns as if he's suddenly realized where the conversation is heading. "It's more that in choosing to put their needs above your own, aren't you saying that in some way their needs are superior to yours? You're choosing to create a hierarchy."
Enough is enough. "People can serve others without being inferior to them," Ibushi says quietly. "You can give to someone regardless of whether you believe they are better off than you or not."
Yufuin wrinkles his nose. "You have a point," he admits grudgingly. He looks dissatisfied, but he evidently can't think of a counterargument. "I feel like I was trying to talk about something else at first, though."
This new, post-conquest world was more alien to Ibushi than Zundar and that ridiculous fish had been. He wouldn't have pegged Yufuin as a gracious loser, but then again, it was probably too much effort to make a fuss.
He is jolted from his reverie by the sound of Yufuin's fist striking the couch. The air hisses out of the cushions; Ibushi winces. A couch of lesser quality would have split apart at the seams. "That's right," Yufuin exclaims. "I was saying that if everyone was equal, then nobody would be special. Everyone's likes and dislikes would all be the same."
"Yes, we heard you the first time," Arima snipes.
"But if that was the case, we'd never have been able to defeat that chikuwabu monster at the beginning, because nobody would ever love him."
"That makes even less sense than your first statement," says Kinshirou, effectively shutting down the conversation before Ibushi can stop to consider the practical implications of a chikuwabu-induced apocalypse. Surprisingly, even Yufuin falls silent at Kinshirou's words, and the rest of lunch passes without incident.
*
It's easy to fall into a routine with Atsushi, easy to see how Atsushi fits around his friends like water. Atsushi wakes Yufuin up in the morning, walks to school with him, then attends classes. After school the two of them accompany the student council on their rounds when they can be bothered and laze around in the club room when they can't. Everyone goes to Kurotama Bath enough to finance the older Hakone's lavish retirement (though Akoya insists commoners should stay in their rightful place).
In the evenings, every now and then, Ibushi waits for Atsushi to finish getting dressed. They walk back to Atsushi's house together, talking about nothing in particular. Then they cook.
And it's easy to fall into step with Atsushi now when they prepare lunch for the next day. Without realizing it, Ibushi finds himself slicing frankfurters for Yufuin because Atsushi is busy with the curry, or dicing garlic because he just knows Atsushi will have forgotten about it in his excitement over the new technique he wants to try. He learns that for all the successful lunchboxes Atsushi brings for Yufuin, there are countless failures that Atsushi tosses easily in the garbage like they hadn't started off as premium wagyu. Ibushi dials the flame down when the sauce is about to burn; he bumps shoulders with Atsushi as they fight over the stove. They keep up the pretense that it's all for Kinshirou's sake, but Atsushi is hardly bad company.
When Atsushi slips up and ends up with beef vindaloo that tastes more like fire than anything else, Ibushi rushes to the overstocked fridge and takes out sour cream and a bottle of yuzu honey.
"That's not in the recipe," Atsushi jokes.
"It is in your recipe," Ibushi retorts.
An uncharacteristic smirk finds its way onto Atsushi's face. After he returns the bottles to the fridge, he disappears into the pantry and emerges brandishing a couple of small packets. "In that case," he says, "I've always wanted to try flavoring meat with coffee grains!"
Ibushi's face morphs into horror. He lunges at the other boy and wrestles with him over the offending packets. Five minutes later, Ibushi is watching on morbidly as Atsushi ruins yet another pot of perfectly good curry.
"I've seen it before on TV," Atsushi reassures him. Ibushi tries very hard not to think of television shows such as 'My Kitchen Sucks' or 'Ricardo's Kitchen Nightmares'. Evidently, his thoughts must show on his face, because Atsushi elbows him in the side. "Seriously, trust me. It'll be fine."
Ibushi has spent years striving to become responsible enough to trust in nobody but himself. Independence, he had always thought, was the ultimate goal. Self-sufficiency: to walk in light during a black out; to put food on a plate while those around you struggle for scraps. To live without uncertainty, knowing that no matter what happened, you would be safe.
It shouldn't make sense, but he has seen Atsushi put chocolate into the curry pot and walk victorious into the club room the next day. In any case, the worst case scenario is only financial loss, and Atsushi has more than enough money to spare. It's not about trust, Ibushi tells himself. He tells himself he believes that.
*
They're in the bedroom watching anime while the timer ticks down to freshly baked scones when Atsushi nudges him with his foot.
"Do you like doing things for Kin-chan?"
Ibushi doesn't even have to think about it. "Of course. I wouldn't do it if I didn't like it."
Atsushi hums thoughtfully, then smiles at him. "That's good, then."
Passionate voices ring out from the television in the awkward silence that follows. Ibushi begins to wonder if Atsushi had been expecting a different answer. "Do you like doing things for Yufuin-san?" he asks, mostly to detract from Naoto's anguished screams about revenge and next year's tournament.
"I do," says Atsushi, without hesitation. "It's nice to be depended on, though it can be taxing, sometimes."
"Then, do you like doing things for Kinshirou?"
"I do," Atsushi repeats in a similar fashion. "That's not a problem, is it?"
This question, Ibushi has to think about. In the larger scheme of things, he still can't trust Atsushi not to leave Kinshirou crying in the grass again. All the same, he can't make that choice for his friend. Unbidden, Yufuin's words come to mind. Freedom, he thinks, to make the same mistakes.
"As long as Kinshirou is happy," he replies, leaving the warning unsaid. The future is difficult enough to predict without factoring in intergalactic invaders and the bonds they inadvertently help to repair.
*
Watering the plants puts Ibushi in a meditative state; when he rouses to Akoya's shrill indictment of Zaou's new hairstyle, he feels rested enough to interrupt with a smile instead of a rude hand gesture. "Scones, gentlemen?"
They glare at him, cheeks flushed with rage. Ibushi has to stifle a laugh at how much pink there is between the two of them. He offers a scone to Naruko, too, who winks at him for some reason, and is very tempted not to offer any at all to Yufuin, after everything the man has (unwittingly) put Ibushi's best friend through.
Watching Kinshirou open up to Atsushi with a smile Ibushi has never managed to induce, Ibushi wonders what best friends actually means, anyway, and where the line is drawn between devotion and dependence.
Yufuin raises his hand, ignoring the way everyone else in the room ignores him. "I was just thinking," he says, and naturally Atsushi's gaze flies straight to Yufuin, leaving Kinshirou with a half-finished sentence and eyes filled with...not envy, surprisingly, but certainly exasperation. "Isn't it strange that people's tongues are as unique as their fingerprints?"
"That's why everyone kisses differently," Zaou says with a wink.
Akoya flushes a deep red. "Y-you vulgar --- "
"Don't worry," Naruko assures him. "Ryuu hasn't even had his first kiss yet."
For a brief moment, Akoya looks relieved. He turns to Naruko, who smirks at him. The next moment, Zaou is wincing from the onslaught of several large cushions. "How dare you make me imagine what you're like when you kiss people!" Akoya screeches. "Such a disgusting image --- "
"Why would you bring up that topic in the first place?" Atsushi asks Yufuin through the commotion. The boy shrugs, popping another scone into his mouth.
"I was just thinking that everyone's tastes are different," he says, "but we all like your cooking, Atsushi."
Atsushi, sadly, is all too weak to Yufuin's graceless overtures. He smiles, radiant, and Ibushi can't let himself be so weak to someone who's weak to Yufuin, of all people. "Actually," Atsushi murmurs, "Ibushi helped me with these."
"Is that so?" En asks, eyebrows shooting high on his forehead. "I thought there was something different about them. You helped mix, right? I can see why Kusatsu likes your cooking so much. He has good taste."
Amazingly, Kinshirou actually blushes at that. For the love of all things plain and simple, is Ibushi going to have to get used to Yufuin, too?
Still, he thinks about Atsushi agreeing to help him out. That had probably been for Kinshirou's sake. He thinks about Naruko trading soft looks with Akoya and of Yufuin himself, who has always been overly friendly with Kinshirou but now sidles up to the student council president when they pass each other in the corridoors and tries to sling an arm around him. More importantly, Kinshirou has stopped ducking away from the embrace, and Ibushi has dutifully noted the small smile that creeps up on Kinshirou's face when he mentions their resident leech.
Things are changing, indeed.
*
Things come to a head when Ibushi walks into the club room to find Yufuin swinging a broomstick down onto Kinshirou's foot. "There was a cockroach!" Yufuin protests when Ibushi slams him against the wall. "Haven't you ever hated something so much you just had to get rid of it?"
"At the moment, I'm close to that point with you," Ibushi replies cheerily. Yufuin winces. Ibushi is about to slam him into the wall again when someone taps him on the shoulder. "What?"
It's Kinshirou, looking somewhat abashed. "Let him go," he says, and Arima actually does drop Yufuin, he's so betrayed. "He didn't mean to."
"He could have broken your foot!"
"I'm sorry," Yufuin says. Ibushi clenches his fists, but Kinshirou has spoken, and at least Yufuin, unlike Atsushi, has the grace to apologize.
"You're too forgiving," he snaps unthinkingly. Kinshirou turns to him, astounded, and Ibushi realizes his error a moment too late.
Kinshirou has turned again to ice, his gaze burning with hurt under the mask of condescension he affects. "I see. In that case, do tell me how long I should wait before I decide to forgive you."
This time, it's Yufuin who speaks up. "I get the feeling he's just trying to protect you, Kinshirou."
Kinshirou looks like he's bitten into a whole clove of star anise. His lips press together and relax. "I know," he says. "I can make my own decisions."
Ibushi feels something cold and heavy settle in his chest. Doesn't Kinshirou know that everything he's done has been to help him make his own decisions without having to worry about the consequences? He takes a deep, shaking breath. "I apologize for being presumptive. I never meant to make you feel trapped."
Before he turns away, he sees Kinshirou's mask crumple, his face awash with pain. Yufuin looks profoundly uncomfortable.
"Please excuse me," Ibushi grits out, and flees the room.
*
It's Yufuin who finds him, hours later, sitting on the rooftop in a place he'd thought was too private for anyone else. "I come here sometimes," Yufuin explains, which makes Ibushi feel much better. It's such a privilege to share a sulking space with Yufuin En, after all.
"I'm sorry to be rude," Ibushi grits out, "but you are the last person I want to see right now."
"I could call Kinosaki," Yufuin offers, and Ibushi punches him in the face.
"My bad," he apologizes afterwards. "It was a reflex."
Yufuin grins wryly. "I probably deserved that," he admits, and then has the audacity to sit down next to Ibushi. There is a brief silence. "Still, are you going to lose your best friend over something as trivial as this?"
"I haven't lost him," Ibushi snaps, stung. He can feel his heart quicken in panic. "I just need some time. He just needs some time."
"That's probably what Atsushi thought, too," points out Yufuin. "The longer you leave it, the harder it becomes. Trust me."
"I'd rather eat snails," Ibushi retaliates, then shivers at the word. Even the thought of it repulses him.
Yufuin sighs. "I don't blame you," he says, and for a moment Ibushi thinks he's going to follow that up with more unwanted advice such as you should talk about it, though, or even why don't you ask Atsushi, then? If it had been the latter, Ibushi would probably have punched him again. "Atsushi made escargot for me once," Yufuin continues. "I don't really like exotic food, but he has a way of turning gross things into works of art."
An involuntary smile rises to Ibushi's face.
Yufuin catches it. He says, "you know what I'm talking about," and points accusingly at Ibushi. "Don't even try to pretend you don't.
Ibushi actually laughs then. "You're right," he says, his breath catching slightly. "I hate to admit it, but you are completely and utterly correct."
*
"En-chan used to hate snails," Atsushi tells him, passing him the cayenne pepper. "I get the feeling you dislike them much more than he did, though."
Yet another thing he has in common with Yufuin En. If this continued, Ibushi was going to have to take desperate measures. "Can we please not mention that word in the kitchen?" he moans, eyeing the pepper doubtfully before shaking a small heap into the mixture. "I'm going to have nightmares for days."
The smile slides suddenly off Atsushi's face. "Leaving that aside, I think it's admirable that you're taking action this early."
"It was En's idea," Ibushi concedes, and grudgingly accepts that at some point in between all the 'En-chan's, he's started thinking of Yufuin by his first name. He passes the fish paste to Atsushi with equal chagrin. "Besides, it was my fault for acting out of turn."
Atsushi considers him for a moment. "Regardless of that, if you try to patch things up too quickly it might not work out."
"Thank you for that encouraging piece of advice," Ibushi says dryly.
"En-chan and I had an argument once," Atsushi replies, spooning a generous heaping of fish paste into the bowl. He stares pointedly at Ibushi. "It was due to a monster's influence."
Ah, the breaking-and-entering moment. That had probably been during the height of the manipulative beast's influence on Kinshirou. Ibushi bites his lip and looks away, abashed.
"I went to him early to try and figure out what was going on," Atsushi continues. "I never did that with Kinshirou, but even though I tried something different this time, I ended up getting into another argument with him, and I gave up. Part of that was due to the monster's influence, but even so, En-chan later came to save me, even though he was still under that same influence. If I had been more persistent at the beginning, it's possible that we might have been able to defeat the shut-in monster much earlier."
"There's no point wondering about 'what ifs'," Ibushi points out. He stirs the mixture idly with his chopsticks. "The past is the past."
"There are some lessons to be found in it, though," Atsushi murmurs, peering at the dough.
Ibushi swats away Atsushi's hand before the genius chef can pour soy sauce all over the mixture. He isn't sure why he bothers; it's already too horrifying to be served on a normal occasion, let alone as an apology.
*
"Atsushi made these for you," He tells Kinshirou, unable to keep the apologetic look off his face as he holds out the box of scones. There is no way he's taking responsibility for this batch. "They're uh, exquisite. In their own way."
"Did you make tea as well?" asks Kinshirou. Ibushi nods. Kinshirou nods back.
Ibushi pours the tea.
*
"In all honesty, it was a little anti-climactic," he confesses afterwards.
Atsushi flicks a napkin at him. "You could sound a little more relieved," he says. "You're so calm about everything, it's unnatural." Ibushi is halfway to offended when Atsushi cocks his head and speaks again. "Actually, I take that back. I've seen you call out the names to all the moves in Mahoruto, and believe me, you could probably stand to be slightly more calm there."
"I second that," En calls from where he's cocooned under a thick blanket. "If you're going to call out attack names, at least make them good."
"They are good!" Ibushi protests. "Why are you even here, anyway?"
The pile of blanket trembles slightly. "I was here before you," En says. "Don't question my right to be by Atsushi's side."
Ibushi rolls his eyes. "Next time, I'm inviting Kinshirou."
Atsushi waves his arms around. "Hello? You guys do know that this is my house, right?"
*
Some flowers bloom in the night. There's a species named selenicereus grandiflorus which unfurls its petals just one night every year. When Ibushi attempted to cultivate it, he stayed awake several nights in a row waiting for that moment, until the bags under his eyes grew dark as ash and his arms trembled when he lifted the teapot to pour. That night, he collapsed in the early hours of the evening, leaving the video camera running lonely on its tripod, and by the time he awoke, well-rested but frantic, the plant had completed its annual cycle, leaving him with damp clothes and a video which cut out just as the buds began to lift.
The next year, Ibushi had hired a night guard to wake him at the appropriate time.
By the time he notices what is happening, Yufuin En has planted himself firmly into Ibushi's life, a parasitic weed who sucks into Ibushi's Atsushi-time and eats all their dishes while they're still cooking.
Strangely enough, Ibushi can't even bring himself to care that much. En makes Atsushi happy; that much is clear, at least, though Ibushi still can't fathom exactly what they are to one another. He tells himself that as long as he still has food to surprise Kinshirou with the next day, it is perfectly acceptable to set his homework aside for a few hours a night to sort jigsaw pieces for Atsushi or play Jenga with En.
In those hours, he feels light as air, free from the chains of real life and the uncertainty of tomorrow. After he gets to know En a little better, he begins to appreciate the other boy's forthright attitude and practical nature, too. In short, they become friends while he shirks his responsibilities, and he doesn't feel guilty about it at all.
What he does feel guilty about is how the words stick in his throat when he tries to tell Kinshirou about the new development. He can't help but feel that Atsushi should be Kinshirou's friend first and foremost, and he only knows En through Atsushi, so that's the way things should be. At the same time, he can no longer deny that he is spending much more time with Atsushi than Kinshirou is. Although Ibushi tries to give them space when they meet for lunch in the club room, he finds himself inevitably drawn into the discussion when En throws out another useless piece of trivia; Atsushi seems incapable of keeping back a response to anything En says, and Kinshirou is startlingly long-winded when he finds something he is passionate about. Between the three of them, Ibushi loses count of the number of times he is distracted from his tea with a hey, Ibushi, or an Arima, you agree with me, don't you?
In particular, Atsushi's encouraging smile when he says I'm sure Ibushi has something to add sends shivers down Ibushi's spine. Still, he wishes he had the discipline to draw Atsushi's attention to Kinshirou, who of late has consistently cut short his sentences as soon as En opens his mouth, knowing that Atsushi has already lost focus.
However, with Kinshirou having thrown himself so far into recruitment and mentoring, there doesn't seem to be any time to talk about trivial things like friendship. Kinshirou, after all, has seldom depended on Ibushi for advice on matters of the heart. Instead, Ibushi is saddled with paperwork and errands to run, and while he doesn't mind this, if Kinshirou wills it, the weight of it seems to slow his steps now more than ever before.
To compensate, he procrastinates more, too, taking advantage of Atsushi's hospitality for as long as courtesy allows. In his mind he sees the shoots of a vicious cycle begin to sprout. Nevertheless, he looks around every now and then at Atsushi, shoulder-to-shoulder with him and Yufuin by the bed, and wonders if it should be Kinshirou here in his place.
*
The simple answer would be to invite Kinshirou as well, but an invitation would warrant an explanation, and so much time has passed now that Ibushi doesn't know how to explain that he's been meeting with En and Atsushi for several weeks now without telling Kinshirou.
En was right after all. The longer you leave things, the harder they are to correct.
Ibushi attempts to convince himself that Kinshirou is too busy nowadays to idle around at people's houses. Even so, that doesn't change the fact that he should at least have asked. Kinshirou knows that Ibushi has been spending time at Atsushi's house, but as far as Kinshirou is aware, that is merely because Ibushi wants to cook better food for him. Kinshirou knows nothing about the evenings spent curled against one another, making snide comments about the design of a character's outfit or feeding brownies to En because he's too lazy to hold them himself.
For some reason, it feels like a betrayal.
It's on one of these late nights that Ibushi receives a phone call from Kinshirou. He answers it reflexively, too used to En and Atsushi bantering easily by his side to think anything of it.
"Kinshirou?" he says. "Were you after something?"
Kinshirou's breath is tinny and flat over the phone. "Are you at home now?"
The words he wants to say refuse to take form. "Why do you ask?" he says instead.
"Do you remember those forms I asked you to fill out for the council the other day?"
Ibushi vaguely recalls the stack of heavy papers scattered on his desk at home. "I do," he answers. "What about them?"
"Who's on the phone?" En asks suddenly. Ibushi puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head.
Atsushi shoves En over into a column of pillows. "Don't distract him; it's probably Kin-chan there with big important student council business."
Ibushi chuckles softly as En takes a pillow from the pile and slams it over Atsushi's head in retaliation.
"Hello?" Kinshirou sounds impatient now. Atsushi squeals loudly. "Wait, is that At-chan I hear? Sorry to interrupt. Are you cooking again?"
"Uh, I..." Ibushi's heart quickens; there's a feeling of dread that wraps around him, paralyzing everything but his traitorous tongue. "Y-yeah, we made scones."
Kinshirou laughs. "I'll look forwards to them, then. I liked that variation you made the other day with the egg bits and the curry taste."
"Completely Atsushi's idea," En calls over the sound of Atsushi's giggling. "He's such a curry maniac. I don't mind that, though."
The blood drains from Ibushi's face. "Don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations," he hisses, but the damage has been done.
"You're with En as well?" Kinshirou's voice is bewildered now. "I can't imagine he'd be helping you cook. Lazing around on the couch, more like it."
"I'm useful when I want to be," En argues. "I'm not sure exactly what the president said just then, but I'm pretty sure he just called be lazy."
"You are lazy," Arima replies, rolling his eyes. He only hears afterwards how gently the words had been spoken.
Kinshirou is silent for a long time. "How long has this been going on?" he asks at last, voice soft and neutral.
"It's not..." Ibushi can't bring himself to finish the sentence. His mouth moves of its own accord, searching desperately for an excuse, any excuse. "I'm not supposed to be here," it finishes lamely. He wants to shoot himself in the foot.
Kinshirou sighs, a deep, drawn-out exhale that drags out all of Ibushi's fears and confirms them one by one. "I thought you knew better," he says, voice still neutral, but Ibushi knows that facade; he knows what sort of sorrow lies under it.
The line cuts out.
Around him, both En and Atsushi have fallen silent. They stare at Ibushi with slightly wide eyes, and he thinks of how often he's hurt Kinshirou since he started associating with the two of them. Somewhere along the way, he's lost sight of his priorities. Unforgiveable.
Ibushi puts his phone away. "I never should have spoken to you," he says, low and broken. "Excuse me."
It's shameful that he runs; it's shameful that he already knows the place well enough to let himself out. It aches, deep in his heart, that neither En nor Atsushi call out to stop him.
*
In an odd twist of fate, making up with Kinshirou is as simple as it was the previous time. Perhaps it's the type of relationship they have; the casual ease Ibushi worked so hard to cultivate. Perhaps it's simply that Kinshirou, too, has matured over the years.
"Did you make these?" Kinshirou asks.
"Yeah, but they're not as good as the one Atsushi makes," Ibushi warns him. "I've watched him countless times now, but I'm still not sure how he does it."
Kinshirou hums thoughtfully. "Did you make tea as well?"
Ibushi nods.
"Then I'll try some."
And that is that.
*
Atsushi is more difficult to handle. When Ibushi eventually musters up the courage to approach him, Atsushi only gazes coolly at him for a moment before saying, "you won't regret this?"
That should be the end of it, but even though they still go home together after that, the atmosphere then is decidedly awkward.
There are things left unsaid and hurt that lingers under the hesitant smiles Atsushi continues to send his way, but Atsushi isn't the type to press and Ibushi isn't the type to chase. It's only natural that things would be different.
Ibushi takes the scones to school the next day anyway, but for some reason, Kinshirou seems reluctant to eat them.
Ibushi sets two down on the nicest plate they own. "Atsushi and I made these for you, you know. You could at least be grateful."
"Did you make tea as well or were you too busy moping?" Kinshirou snaps. Ibushi shifts nervously. If Kinshirou has noticed, he must have been rather obvious.
"Don't look so shocked; I pay attention to the welfare of my club members," huffs Kinshirou irritably. "You know, when I told you I thought you knew better, I wasn't mad at you for not inviting me. You're not obliged to be at my disposal every single hour of the day."
Disconcerted, Ibushi opens his mouth to respond. He wants to be there for Kinshirou when Kinshirou needs him, no matter when. He wants to be a friend Kinshirou can rely on, who Kinshirou knows will always stay by his side. When he tries to articulate these feelings, Kinshirou interrupts him.
"I just thought you knew better than to believe you didn't even deserve to have friends of your own. You're so busy worrying about how I'll react that you miss all the important things. I'm not a child anymore; I can take care of myself."
It still stings. This time, however, Ibushi can see the truth in it enough to cover his pain with a laugh. "Spoken like a true child." He reaches out to ruffle his friend's hair, but Kinshirou grips his wrist before he can achieve his goal.
"I am older than you. Now get me some tea and let's have some scones."
When Kinshirou lets go, Ibushi pulls him back. There are a million things he wants to say, things about how loyal Kinshirou is, and reliable, and how Ibushi has failed to notice that Kinshirou is no longer the lonely child he met in the park all those years ago. He wants to tell Kinshirou that he's admirable. Instead he says, "you're taking this better than I thought you would."
"At-chan isn't quite the person I knew anymore." Kinshirou's mouth twists, but his fists remain loose by his side. "He has his own friends now, and he's welcome to spend time with them. He's changed."
Ibushi places a hand on his friend's shoulder and marvels at how small it still feels under his palm. It's a deceptive shape, saying nothing of the strength and resilience Kinshirou approaches life with these days. "So have you."
The afternoon sun lifts pale crescents of light from silver hair. Ibushi remembers a pond in Hokkaido, ice splintering before his mind could process what had happened. He remembers one season fading into another, moment after moment lining up to create something enduring and eternal, fragile experiences arranged carefully into the shape of a human being.
Kinshirou gazes contemplatively at the waves of tea undulating in the cups before them. "Perhaps I have," he murmurs at last. He looks at Ibushi, and perhaps for the first time Ibushi understands that Kinshirou has been watching him grow up, too. "Perhaps we all have."
At that moment, their phones buzz. It's Akoya, screeching about impure children and beautiful things that have been forever tarnished by their grubby hands.
"At least one of us is consistent," Ibushi notes with a laugh.
*
He seeks out Atsushi the next day.
Kinshirou is engaged in a screaming match with Akoya and one of the triplets from first year when Ibushi steps through the doorway. To be precise, he's engaged in a screaming match with Akoya while poor triplet #1 hides behind their secretary's back, but the force of his ire is undoubtedly directed at the first year.
"What part of 'formal wear' did you not understand?!"
"It looks beautiful and you know it, you traditionalist dictator!" Akoya screams back, gesturing at the mass of gold silk.
Ibushi clears his throat. "Kinshirou, a moment?"
The student council president visibly checks himself and strides over stiffly. "What?"
"Have you seen Atsushi?"
"I saw him with Naruko in the library earlier," Kinshirou says. "You should check there first."
Ibushi raises a hand in gratitude. "You look good, by the way."
Kinshirou throws a gold-plated shoe at him on the way out.
*
It's true, though. Nowadays Kinshirou smiles more, even when he isn't around Atsushi. In fact, lately Kinshirou's been spending more time training up the younger members of the student council and Atsushi's been spending more time......well, he had been spending more time with Ibushi, up until that night.
Looking at the way Atsushi throws his clothes on the floor when he gets home and wastes hours with one finger on the remote and the other in En's hair, Ibushi doesn't think he and Kinshirou will ever regain their exclusive friendship. Thankfully, Kinshirou seems to have understood that too; he's settled into his role as childhood friend and probably future roommate - close, but not necessarily there 24/7. If it makes him happy, Ibushi will support him in that role.
Personally, Ibushi wishes he had someone to help him figure out where he himself fits into Atsushi's life. That person who begged me to teach him to cook even though he has no problems with it himself sounds rather pitiable, put like that.
*
"He left five minutes ago to see a classmate in the infirmary," Io tells him.
"He hasn't come by at all today, so maybe he changed his mind," the infirmary nurse tells him.
"He was in the classroom earlier, but he left to bring Yufuin-san his lunch," Atsushi's classmates tell him.
Ibushi is starting to get the feeling he's being toyed with.
"Atsushi?" En asks, eyes widening in surprise. "Yeah, he went to the bathroom. Hide here and he'll be back in a minute."
"Wha --- "
Before he can protest, Ibushi finds himself being shoved into a large cupboard. He's not even sure where the thing came from; he really doesn't recall there being cupboards large enough for him, especially, in the school.
Still, needs must. After a span of time far too long for Ibushi's liking, he hears footsteps approach.
"That's him," En whispers, as if it's perfectly normal to recognise the sound of your friend's gait. "Now shut up and I'll let you out when I've got him stuck here. Man, Atsushi really sucks at understanding other people's emotions."
"En-chan?"
Ibushi's breath catches in his throat.
"Atsushi! I've just remembered I need to go to the bathroom or something. Anyway, stay here."
En wrenches the cupboard door open and Ibushi spills onto the floor, arms and legs tangled up in dustpans and spare lightbulbs. He must look frightful. Perhaps due to the shock of it, though, Atsushi doesn't react in time to stop En dashing out the door, locking it on his way out.
After En leaves, the room falls silent.
"What's going on?" Atushi asks, when he finally recovers. "Are you alright?"
Somehow, the order of those questions irritates Ibushi. He's gratified that Atsushi is more concerned about fulfilling his curiosity than Ibushi's welfare, he really is.
A small voice in his head tells him that it really shouldn't be that big of a deal, but perhaps Ibushi is feeling contrary today. Perhaps he's a little tired of pretending that everything's okay when it really isn't. Perhaps, the voice tells him, he's just wound up at the moment because Atsushi is here in front of him and Ibushi actually cares about how this conversation will turn out, and even though he cares, he doesn't know what the outcome will be.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm fine."
Atsushi waits patiently for him to continue.
"I wanted to talk to you," Ibushi says, and then he doesn't know what to say anymore. He's struck by the sudden thought that perhaps Atsushi has been humoring him the whole time. Ibushi had been the one to call out first, after all. Atsushi certainly has no obligation to spend time with him. Ibushi pushes the thought away. Thinking about possibilities will get him nowhere. "I didn't mean it, you know. I'm glad I called out to you that time."
After a moment of confusion, Atsushi's face clears. "I know you didn't," he says, sounding exasperated.
"Why do things still feel off, then?" Arima asks. His voice is uncharacteristically high. Everything feels off-balance; Kinshirou doesn't need him anymore and Atsushi is here looking at him like there's something he still hasn't grasped.
"It was what you said before that," Atsushi says sadly, sitting down next to Ibushi. "You really, honestly believed that you weren't meant to spend time with us."
"It should have been Kinshirou," Ibushi tells him, but that doesn't sound quite right anymore, not after what Kinshirou had said just yesterday.
Atsushi slaps him lightly on the cheek. "Don't be silly," he says. "Why can't it be both of you? Didn't you say once that you were going to invite him over as well? Why didn't you?"
Ibushi really doesn't know what to say after that. At the time, it had all made sense to him, but looking back at it, everything he's been so worked up about seems so trivial. "Both of us, and En as well?" he asks, for lack of anything else to say.
When he says that, Atsushi bursts into laughter. Ibushi stares in wonder at him and understands, finally, how precious that smile has become to him. Through his mirth, Atsushi says, "yeah, all of us." Then he says, "mostly you, though. You know you're special, right?"
"I am?" Ibushi asks. He feels incredibly lost right now. The first time he rode on a train by himself, he had arrived at an unfamiliar station in an unfamiliar town, busy workers rushing for their trains around him. They had been far too preoccupied to take notice of a small boy wandering around the platforms. Eventually, Ibushi had found one of the exits and emerged into blinding sunlight. As the world blinked back into focus, the snow-covered roads and bare trees before him had looked exactly the same as the ones back home.
Atsushi smiles at him and Ibushi feels the familiarity of it settle warm in his chest. "Of course you are," Atsushi says. "Nobody else looks as good in an apron as you do."
That sets him off again, and this time, pushing aside the way his stomach leaps and his heart dances at those words, Ibushi joins in.
*
When Atsushi comes home at night, it isn't the scent of freshly-chopped onions that makes makes his heart leap in his chest (though it does make his mouth water and his eyes sting).
"Welcome home," Ibushi calls. En is lazing around on the couch as usual, on the Atsushi family couch he'd demanded they bring with them when they moved into the apartment. Kinshirou hustles around the dining table, laying out the cutlery with a scowl and occasionally shooting half-resentful, half-exasperated looks at En.
Atsushi presses a kiss to Ibushi's cheek and grabs a knife to help with the preparations.
"What's for dinner?"
"Lamb curry," Ibushi replies briskly. "Can you chop those carrots for me? Chunky, thanks."
Atsushi smiles. He tosses a carrot up into the air and lets it fall back into his hand. "And dessert?"
Ibushi gestures to the fridge, where Atsushi knows Kinshirou is keeping the strawberry jam Akoya sent them from up in Lyon.
"How do you feel about scones?"