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This is silly. Toys don’t think. They don’t make note of the places they visit, either. And they most certainly aren’t interested in the romantic lives of their masters.
(But let’s, for a moment, pretend.)
I. The Fated Meeting Of A Boy And His Frog
Kerosuke’s illustrious life began in a display window nestled among many that made up one of Shibuya’s vibrant shopping streets.
Of course, since this was a toy shop, most of the attention he’d received was from children stopping and pointing at him from the window. Their parents or older siblings would then sigh and herd them away, or into the store if feeling generous, but nobody ever ended up actually taking Kerosuke off the shelf. All the better, Kerosuke thought, as he didn’t quite want to leave his other glass and porcelain and fur-lined friends. And yet they all left him, one by one, with new toys rotating in and out, and he started feeling—as much as a toy frog might—lonely.
Then, one day—
“Is that all you need, young man?”
Kerosuke found himself being held. First by the man who owned the shop and then, after a quick exchange of currency, by a younger man wearing a uniform. A uniform that Kerosuke had identified with a certain subgroup of humans known as high school students.
Who did not, really, frequent toy shops all that often. And it wasn’t as if Kerosuke knew what exactly a school was. From what he’d heard, schools were places where hopes and dreams go to die, and something called romance went on between humans. It seemed very dramatic; at least, the whisperings of these so-called students made it seem so.
Kerosuke sat on the palm of the human’s hands, acutely aware how busy the streets outside really were. The person who had bought him was tall and bespectacled, and quite keen on keeping Kerosuke out in the open. He also had green hair—something of a standout after all the black and brown and occasionally blond hair that Kerosuke had initially assumed all humans had. It made him feel a little better that he had something in common with his master.
It wasn’t long before the frog noticed another difference: the fingers that curled around his body were taped.
Kerosuke had seen children taped before, but most of the time they were crying. His new master, though, was not, and Kerosuke did not know what to think of that.
Humans are really strange.
But it was a toy’s job to keep its master happy, and that was what he was going to do.
II. Classrooms, An Ode To Attempted Friendships
The conversation humming around him called attention to the fact that Kerosuke was inside a high school. Nobody seemed to be paying him much attention, as if this was completely normal. And to Kerosuke, it might as well be. The first time he had been introduced to a high school, his master had introduced him to a blond human named Kise. He’d proceeded to send messages to his master so often Kerosuke would, from a shelf of Midorima’s desk, often hear him muttering under his breath. If those little glowing boxes called phones gave humans so much grief, why didn’t they just throw them away?
“Shin-chan!”
Someone bumped into his master—Shin-chan? Isn’t his name Midorima?—causing Kerosuke to almost fly out of what had been previously a solid grip. The newcomer was patting Midorima’s shoulder, completely ignoring the chastising look his master was giving him. Sharp blue-grey eyes looked at him curiously. “Didn’t you bring this one already like, three weeks ago?”
Midorima pushed his glasses up. “Takao, you know I’ve told you already. This happens.”
“Is that why you never throw any of your items away?” That much was true; Kerosuke had already met quite a number of old items in Midorima’s locker. Which was, by the way, neatly arranged according to type and color. “Gotta be prepared for anything, huh.”
Exasperated at being accosted, Midorima huffed in response. “Precisely. Now, I’m going to be late to class, so—”
Kerosuke did not get to hear the rest, as he was promptly stowed away into Midorima’s pocket again. What he did catch was Takao winking at him, leaving the frog very…very confused. Was there something in his eye?
He was allowed into the open again an hour later when lunch rolled around. Midorima always placed his lucky items carefully on the left side of his desk during noontime, unless they were just too big (Kerosuke recalled Tanuki-san complaining about being zipped up all day until practice, and though they were only toys, it had seemed a most awful to relegate them to that fate.) For his part, Kerosuke was content to human-watch.
Now, Kerosuke had no illusions about what he was—humans needed to eat and do things that he was all too aware were far beyond the limitations of any toy—and all he was was a semi-sentient porcelain figurine who could think and not write, see but not talk (to humans, at least). He’d had no problems with either, and Midorima seemed happy enough to carry him around without asking anything more of him.
(He’d heard one too many horror stories from some of the second-hand lucky items that occupied the lower drawer of Midorima’s home desk, and Kerosuke was so very glad that his human seemed to be all around a moral, upstanding human whose only strangeness was his obsession with that Oha Asa broadcast. But then again, Kerosuke probably wouldn’t have left the shop otherwise, so he didn’t consider that a fault.)
And so it was a terrifying feeling when he felt himself get picked up by unfamiliar, untaped hands, wondering if this was to be the end of him.
Midorima looked up from his can of red bean soup. “I would appreciate it if you put Kerosuke down immediately, Takao.”
“Aw, come on, let me look at him just for a bit!”
“There is nothing to look at!” His words are a tad loud, causing several other humans to turn and glance at them. Kerosuke doesn’t actually get the concept of embarrassment, but he can see his master’s face redden, and links it back to the many times Takao had caused this before.
“If you say so.” Takao set Kerosuke down carefully and in the exact same position he had been in, a gesture of goodwill not lost on the frog. Midorima looked away in a huff, but Kerosuke caught the wink thrown at his master—completely unnoticed by anyone else, if the general reactions of the vicinity would have it.
It was all very ‘high school’, as Kerosuke had come to associate with the trials and tribulations of which he’d spent this entire lunch break witnessing.
[ An Interlude: At Home, Part I ]
(Kerosuke had been mildly terrified the first time he heard Midorima talk in his sleep. Even more so when he started muttering about Takao, of all things.
Apparently this was not an infrequent occurrence, though according to the oldest lucky item of them all, it seemed to occur even more frequently this fall. Perhaps it was the stress of being a first-year, or having green hair, or relying too much on fate to decide things for him (though, as Kerosuke pointed out, that wasn’t a completely fair assessment.)
Whatever the case, it quickly became endearing, in a way. Midorima spoke almost entirely in disjointed sentences that somehow always related back to his friends, ranging from the potentially concerning “Please die” to some rendition of an Oha Asa astrological prediction.
Then, one day, he’d cried out “But Cancer and Scorpio are extremely compatible!” which sent ripples of confusion through the room. Every sentient lucky item present had, either personally or through word-of-mouth, seen Midorima’s not-so-well-hidden chart of astrological predictions for his friends, though he usually muttered something disparaging when he looked at it. Takao was a Scorpio, Kerosuke knew, and through conversation had picked up on the other toys’ agreements that he and Midorima got on exceptionally well. As well as someone like Midorima could get along with anyone, that was.
Kerosuke was fairly sure that could only mean one thing.)
III. A Coffee Shop Conquest
Kerosuke knew he’d been doing a good job keeping his master happy because now Shintarou—after a few weeks of listening in, he’s decided that it’s about time to think of his human more casually—brought him out so often that other items had begun to express some measure of jealousy.
He was not by nature a smug creature, though perhaps pleasure flooded his hollow insides when Shintarou slipped him along with today’s lucky item (a fake pearl bracelet) into his book bag and headed out.
When Kerosuke emerged from the bumpy ride, he was surprised to be inside a place he’d never been before. Usually when Shintarou headed out, it was to the library, or to the gym—never here, with tables and chairs for two or four, all sorts of people people sitting and nursing drinks, laptops out and busy. It was only logical to assume something had happened to the library.
(Shintarou never did like crowded places, and this was never somewhere he’d usually go. Unfortunately his house was brimming with screaming fifth-graders at the moment, a remuneration for his taking of the bracelet from his sister. Not a pleasant place for studying, and Kerosuke was inclined to agree.)
Kerosuke watched as his master set a steaming cup of coffee—strong-smelling stuff, though not nearly as strong as the coffee Shintarou himself usually made—in front of him. It never smelled particularly appetizing, though what would a toy that didn’t need to eat know. At least he wouldn’t die from basking in the scent of coffee. It was better than the smell that came from the kitchen when Shintarou tried to cook, anyhow.
Coffee shops were, Kerosuke heard via word-of-mouth from a certain overly-excitable and drama-loving sister, excellent settings for romance.
He saw the figure approach Shintarou ever-so-slowly, a hawk zoning in on his prey. If Kerosuke could scream, he probably would have, until the figure came into focus as Takao Kazunari. Well then, Kerosuke thought. Not that I can prevent this.
For his part, Shintarou was so caught up in the middle of some terrifying-looking calculus problem that he was completely caught off-guard by the fact that his eyes (glasses, really) were suddenly and inexplicably covered by a pair of hands.
“Guess who!”
Taped fingers suddenly tighten around the pearl bracelet.
“…Takao.”
“Never thought you’d study in a place like this, Shin-chan.” Takao lifted his hands, revealing that he had been very careful in not getting smudges all over Shintarou’s glasses. “So far away from where you live, too.”
“Hmph.” But when Takao took the empty seat in front of him, Shintarou made no motion to shoo him away. “My house is full of distractions today. It would be best to stay away.”
“Ah.” Kerosuke couldn’t see Takao anymore, but he heard soft humming from behind, followed by a rustle of paper. An arm appeared to the right of him, resting on top of one pile of books. Shintarou crinkled his eyebrows. “You know, I was just here for a coffee run too, but you know I live nearby…right?”
“Really.” But Kerosuke swears he can see the faintest touch of pink on his master’s cheeks. He set down his pencil. “Are you suggesting it is a better place for studying?”
“Maybe?”
“Takao, that doesn’t answer my question.”
For today’s horoscope rankings, Cancer was a middling rank, though Oha Asa also punctuated it with a big maybe that something life-changing would happen. Certainly that did not seem very possible if Shintarou was blatantly missing out or deliberately ignoring Takao’s overtures.
(What Shintarou did not know was the fact that sometimes his sister would steal into the room and grab a couple of his toys in revenge for his taking of her things, and retreat to the living room for an afternoon of watching silly soap operas. Silly soap operas that had, in fact, very much influenced Kerosuke’s once-innocent perceptions on the notion of human love—melodramatic, troublesome, but so fascinating that he was left longing for more every time Sachiko returned him to her brother’s room.)
It was then the lines connected in his head, and Kerosuke swore if this underlying tension went on any longer he would ascend to a higher plane of existence and make it so.
Which had seemed possible until Takao accidentally knocked over the cup of coffee and completely obliterated an entire folder of Shintarou’s physics notes.
(There had to be a reason for the horoscope rankings to be what they were, after all.)
[An Interlude: At Home, Part II]
(“Takao.”
“Hm?”
“Why are you playing with Kerosuke.”
There is an audible pause. “I dunno. He’s just sitting there and I don’t want to study—hey, maybe I can try forming a psychic bond with him.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I was just kidding, but you know. Nothing’s impossible, Shin-chan.”
“Hmph.”
Takao winked at him, earning himself a glare. "We'll find out.")
IV. All The Little Details (Are Labeled On The Can)
It was unlike Shintarou to forget to close his book bag properly.
Kerosuke wondered if his master were in a hurry because of one of those long, boring exams that marked human advancement, or something. Sandwiched precariously inside the bag flaps, he could just make out the gravel road below him.
He could hear Tanuki-san grumbling inside the bag: are we even supposed to be here?
The truth was, Kerosuke didn’t know. Shintarou had grabbed much more than just the day’s lucky item—a can opener—when he left the house. If his last excursion was anything to go by, Kerosuke guessed that today was going to be some sort of Big Day that required all the lucky items’ powers combined. Not that he thought he actually had any tangible powers.
Although sometimes he wondered.
Shintarou came to a stop, and Kerosuke tumbled backwards into the bag, thankfully unharmed.
“Ah, Shin-chan, I thought you weren’t going to show up!”
“Whatever made you think that, Takao?” He paused, then exhaled. “I don’t think there’s any excuse to not see our seniors go.”
“That makes two of us, doesn’t it.”
“Mm.”
Oh my god, thought Kerosuke. Just kiss already.
He bumped against Tanuki-san as Shintarou started walking again, bits and pieces of conversation flying overhead. Do you remember what Oha Asa said about Cancer and Scorpio compatibility today?
Pretty high, Tanuki-san replied, though Kerosuke thought he could detect a gram of woe in his voice. Though it also said today would be prone to emotional outburst—whatever that means.
Humans are so interesting, don’t you think—
“Captain,” Shintarou blurted out, causing the lucky items to all shut up. “Um, I mean—“
“What he means is, senpai, we’ll miss you all very much!”
The voices grew, and Kerosuke was jolted upwards suddenly. “You better…or I’ll shove a pineapple up—”
Never mind, Kerosuke whispered to an equally horrified Tanuki-san as the commotion got much, much louder. Humans are terrifying.
“…Shin-chan, you’ll really miss them, won’t you.”
“D-don’t say things like that.” Kerosuke could hear, behind him, the click of Shintarou pushing his glasses up further. An escape mechanism, probably. “But…yes. As it should be. Won’t you?”
Takao’s fingers brushed against Kerosuke as he reached for Shintarou’s can of shiruko, which was quickly snatched away by its owner. “Takao, don’t you think this has gone on for long enough?”
Kerosuke sees recognition of the situation flit across Takao’s eyes, but the words that come out of his lips are “What are you talking about, Shin-chan?”
“You know very well what—“ Oh no, not again. Kerosuke had never wished so fervently to be able to move, if only to hop across the table and smack the words out of Shintarou’s mouth. Words that, true to character, he was having difficulty spitting out. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
Yes it is! Kerosuke wanted to wail. I know why you look up Takao’s horoscopes every day and talk about him in your sleep, and you know he knows it too, so why don’t you—
Takao was giving his master a look that spanned countless centuries of longing, except it lasted perhaps a fraction of a second before switching back to his usual mocking gray. “You’re still so tsundere.”
“I am not whatever that means.”
Still, he puts the can down, letting Takao swipe it away. He thumbed at the stay-tab absentmindedly, then, brows furrowed, started picking at it. “Hey, I think it’s stuck.”
Shintarou made an odd noise that sounded halfway between triumphant and strangled. Oh, Kerosuke thought, damn. The can-opener clacked, sliding across the wooden table in Takao’s general direction. “I knew this would come in handy.”
Takao stared at the bright orange plastic of the can-opener handle, his lips slowly curling upward into a catlike smile. “Oh, Shin-chan. Are you … trying to open my can?”
Kerosuke, who caught on faster than Shintarou, screamed internally.
[An Interlude: At Home, Part III]
(He can’t hide it forever, Tanuki-san said, watching Shintarou toss and turn in his bed.
I know, right? Kerosuke murmured, just as Shintarou started making strange noises into his pillow. Strange noises that oddly sounded like “Takao, please.” I don’t want to have to hear this every day.
Although that was partly a lie.)
V. And So Fate Intervenes Today (The Great Locker Room Mystery)
“Which one of you stole Kerosuke?!”
None of them, is what Kerosuke wants to tell the very irate Shintarou, but he as he is currently lying in a dark corner behind the locker and hidden from the humans’ view, that seems pretty much impossible.
It was an accident that happened whilst the team was practicing. Shuutoku was training (unfortunately, Shintarou mumbled, but Kerosuke knows much better by now) with Seirin again, and of course their canine mascot had to come along.
…And had taken quite a liking to Kerosuke, enough to sneak into Shintarou’s bag while he wasn’t looking and take the frog on a terrifying journey around the training grounds. Not enough for it to bring the hapless toy frog back to his owner, however. If there was one thing Kerosuke thought wrong, it was the fact that he’d thought he’d be able to communicate with animals, at least. Even worse, Nigou had chosen to steal Kerosuke away on the day he was up for lucky item duty.
So now he sits in the dark, wondering with increasing alarm whether or not the team would think to look around the locker room for him. Surely someone would have noticed the dog carrying around a small green object in its mouth—Kerosuke had glimpsed several figures speeding by during his escapade. Yet the voices fade, and he hears the door rattle close.
Shintarou had taken his bag with him, perhaps to prevent any more similar happenings. Kerosuke wonders miserably whether or not he’d somehow done something wrong. Why couldn’t he have prevented this? And now there aren’t even any other lucky items in the room he could discuss plans with. Whatever fates had brought him to Shintarou seemed to have left him now, in a desolate darkness where rats—oh God, no—and cockroaches and all matter of disgusting creatures would probably crawl all over him for all eternity. Or something.
Somebody, Kerosuke thinks, metaphorically squeezing his eyes shut. Anybody. Please come help.
The door creaks open.
Is this the will of Providence? Kerosuke whispers to himself, invisible tears streaming down his face. He is in the middle of his reverie when a familiar scuffling sound approaches him, and he quickly finds himself staring at Tetsuya Nigou’s muzzle. Oh no, no, NO, PLEASE—
“Hey, boy, what are you doing in here?”
Tetsuya Nigou barks excitedly, backing away from the lockers. Footsteps approach cautiously, and a hand reaches into the crack, touching Kerosuke’s face. “Oh?”
Takao pulls the toy frog out, whistling. “So this is where you were. You left him there?”
The dog wags its tail happily, oblivious to the near-destruction it almost caused. Takao dusts the grime off Kerosuke just as Shintarou pokes his head in. “Takao, will you come help me look for—“
“For this?” He waves Kerosuke above his head, and Shintarou freezes, just in time for Nigou to pummel into him. Shintarou leaps aside, rubbing his legs as he glares at the dog bounding off into the hallway. “Hey, be nice to him! At least he didn’t swallow Kerosuke.”
“He what?” Shintarou is beside Takao in an instant, though he does not immediately snatch away Kerosuke. Takao grins up at him, and, as if realizing how close they are standing to each other, Shintarou’s cheeks flush. He holds out his hand and mutters instead, “Thank you. For saving Kerosuke.”
I can’t believe those words just left your mouth, Kerosuke thinks. For his part, Takao just laughs as he hands the frog over. He does not let go, however, and Kerosuke can feel the combined heat generated from both hands. Is Shintarou starting to sweat? Gross.
“Takao? W-why aren’t you letting go of my—”
“We’re alone,” Takao breathes, which shuts Shintarou up immediately. “Did anyone see you coming in?”
“Well,” Shintarou begins awkwardly, the crimson on his cheeks deepening. “I asked them to go look around. Can you please tell me what…?”
“Shin-chan.” He lifts his hand, and Shintarou’s hand is left hanging there, Kerosuke sitting primly upon the center of his palm. Taped fingers tighten around the frog, who is suddenly aware of the familiar feeling. Takao’s eyes are surprisingly serious for once, and the look suits him—suits Shintarou, too, from the way the taller man has suddenly become quite inarticulate.
Then, a word finally escapes his mouth. “Takao.”
Takao sighs, though a hint of a smile dances in the corner of his lips. “You know saying Kazunari would’ve been more romantic, right.”
Then he reaches up with his eyes closed, and Shintarou leans down, meeting halfway in a long, deeply-awaited, heaven-forbid-this-be-interrupted kiss.
Hallelujah, Kerosuke shouts, as Shintarou sets him down on the bench. The two move toward the lockers, and Kerosuke thinks he’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life as his master finally finding True Love, and all the good things to come.
Then, Takao’s eyes fly open, noticing something amiss. “Shin-chan, the door!”
“Arf!”
Kerosuke catches a glimpse of a slim figure flashing away from the door-crack, followed by the demented dog that had kidnapped him earlier. Still, imaginary heart pounding, his world dissolves into some sort of intense matchmaker's bliss as the angry pterodactyl screeching of Midorima Shintarou and uproarious laughter of Takao Kazunari fades into the background.
I’ve made him happy.