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Today was going to be a spectacular day, Teru decided as he scrutinized his reflection one final time before heading out of his apartment.
His new wig was just past chin-length, perfectly combed and accessorized with a few bright hair clips. He had chosen a lavender button-up patterned with tiny flowers that almost resembled polka-dots, along with a crisp set of light khaki pants and caramel brown boots. His outfit was perfect for the occasion, practical yet handsome. It was stylish, but he was still able to make it seem casual. He re-clipped his hair and flashed one more grin and nod at the mirror before grabbing his phone and wallet off the counter, locking his door, and setting out to Kageyama’s house.
It was the first time in a long while since they’d gone out shopping together. Kageyama had been unfortunately homebound for the past few weeks- recuperating and all that- but he had finally expressed an interest in hanging out. Before then, whenever Teru hinted at doing something that wasn’t just online video games or texting, Kageyama would always shoot him down with subdued mentions of exhaustion. Even across the long distance between them, Teru could detect his anxiety over leaving his house again.
Hanazawa Teruki knew first-hand what guilt and humiliation tasted like- bitter and sour like your own stomach bile. He could only imagine what it felt like for Kageyama, having been the epicenter of destruction for all of Seasoning City and causing a metric ton of property damage and pain in the process. That was mostly why Teru wanted to plan this outing in the first place, to show Kageyama what fun was again. And also because his favorite store was having a huge sale, but anyways .
The blond esper strolled through the city, through other shopping districts and residential blocks. He could have taken the train- Kageyama lived a bit far from his apartment complex- but he wanted to take time to savor the outdoors, and to save as much of his money for new outfits as he could.
He crossed paths with areas of destruction often, lots of yellow police tape and sectioned-off places redirecting traffic. The pleasant late spring air was consistently punctuated with honking car horns, shouting, and construction noise. Crowds of people gathered to observe, and Teru spotted the occasional news crew on the ground and in the sky. Helicopters circled the area like opportunistic crows. Bystanders clambered for their interviews and opinions.
Even weeks after the devastation, people were still cleaning up and rebuilding. It would probably take up to a year to get everything back to normal. Teru, and quite a few other espers he knew, were also volunteering to help speed up the process. The Awakening Lab group, Shou, even Ritsu were pitching in here and there. A lot of former Claw members seemed compelled to perform their civic duties, too. It brought a bright warmth to Teru’s chest when he thought about it. He had brought it up exactly once to Kageyama himself, and received a vague answer about how he was planning to make things right eventually. It was a statement that Teru could only decide to take positively.
By the time Teru had snapped out of his reverie, his scenic route handled him right to Kageyama’s front gate. He double-checked the address his friend had provided the other day. The Kageyama household seemed so quaint and lived in, its red rooftop was like a beacon of sorts. Even from about ten feet away, Teru could feel the mixed aura of multiple espers. It felt almost silky, smooth like a well-worn river stone and as clear as the water that shaped it. It was dense enough to make his nose feel a little bit stuffy. While colorful and oddly shaped specters steered clear of the space, Teru spotted a stray cat peering down at him from the tall concrete fencing that encircled the house. He gave a little smile, and was met with a very unimpressed feline gaze from its perch.
Turning away, Teru undid the latch to the gate. It was unlocked just like Kageyama said it would be. Approaching the front door, he couldn’t help but feel his hair stand on end. The slowly regrowing strands he had buzzed off a few weeks prior tingled with static electricity. He ran his tongue across his teeth, wiped his hands on his dress pants, loosened his collar just a smidgeon. The innocent wooden door with its tinted glass windows seemed daunting all of a sudden as he approached. His steps against the concrete reverberated in the quietude of the neighborhood. He could feel the cat’s eyes on the back of his head. His long shadow cast against the porch, bending upward with the shape of the house’s front.
Teru steeled his nerves- tempered by psychic battle and rigorous exercise- and rang the doorbell. There was a cute little chime from within the box-like residence, followed by an older woman’s voice. Then, silence.
In that empty expanse of silence, Teru reevaluated himself. His hair, his expression, his clothes, his wallet and keys and cellphone, his shoes, his opening line, and back to his hair one final time. Then, soft footsteps, and the sudden rolling wave of a familiar aura (there was something sharper, more acidic, sticking to the roof of his mouth and stinging his nostrils. Sea brine coating his sinuses after the crash of a large wave). The click and release of the door slammed down on the quiet like an ax, and he was faced with exactly who he had come to meet.
Kageyama- hair unkempt and wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and gray sweatpants- didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to. His face went through a rapid cycle of expressions as if he was attempting to try them all on at once. Teru watched his eyebrows knit themselves into pinched confusion, and his mouth settle into a hesitant frown. His nose wrinkled in abject disgust and his eyes squinted warily. He gave a strangled exhale.
Teru took the time to unfreeze himself, “Kageyama?”
“ Hhhh ,” Kageyama answered, releasing pressure like an old tea kettle.
“We planned to hang out today, right?” Teru asked. He held up his phone as if to imply something about text communication.
Kageyama stared blankly at his face, and then at the phone, and then redirected back to Teru. Kageyama’s staring was always pretty intense, but Teru never really noticed how red his eyes were, two ruby pinpricks of glistening arterial blood. The eyebags of a sleepless night and the disheveled hair only exacerbated his off-putting look. Kageyama’s style may have been borderline non-existent, but it was usually still put-together.
He let the heavy silence swell between the two. Teru couldn’t help but feel his hair stand on end and sweat bead on his neck. It was like he was waiting for lightning to strike, or a cobra to lash out. The air was thick with an intense uncertainty.
Kageyama finally blinked, releasing all the tension with a long sigh. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door frame. Suddenly, Teru felt like he could take air into his lungs again- he hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped breathing at all.
“Oh. You two had plans today, huh,” Kageyama said dully. “He didn’t tell me.” It sounded just like his voice, inflection and all, but something was different. Maybe it was in the way he looked at him, as if Teru was an uninvited nuisance.
“Um,” Teru said eloquently, “yup.”
The other esper continued his unimpressed staring for another few moments before abruptly turning away to withdraw back into the house. He began telekinetically pulling the front door closed.
“Wait!” Teru objected. He enveloped the door in psychic energy to keep it ajar. Kageyama easily could have yanked it away from his grasp, but he just paused and narrowed his eyes.
“So you didn’t want to go clothes shopping today?” Teru asked. His earlier high-flying excitement was steadily losing altitude over the course of this interaction.
“I never agreed to that,” Kageyama refuted curtly. The same face that more often held a subdued look of contentment was now glaring at him with a raised eyebrow and outright contempt.
“But- we-,” Teru’s brain was short-circuiting a bit. Everything was going so not as expected it was hard to accept that this was, in fact, really happening. He couldn’t have dreamed a more unpredictably bizarre scenario.
Kageyama held up a hand to stop him, and Teru’s own palm protectively slapped to the top of his head on instinct. The other esper pointedly ignored that. “Stop talking. What you and Mob do has nothing to do with me.”
Something in Teru’s temporal lobe backfired, sputtered, then kickstarted again. “Eh?”
Ah! So that’s how it was. Teru was feeling particularly embarrassed at his lack of perceptiveness.
Now he was noticing the pressure in his skull, and the faint ringing in his ears. He could distinctly sense the way Kageyama’s aura flowed and wrapped itself around everything in the vicinity, curling around his house like a dragon atop its hoard. When he stared into the other esper’s eyes there was a glint of some inner technicolor light, straining against the physical bounds of his vessel.
This was the “other one”. The one that only poked his head out when Kageyama had been forced to his breaking point. The one who stripped him down to nothing twice over and raged without regard. It made Teru immediately concerned for his well-being- and also curious as to why nothing looked even the slightest bit out of place.
The one that Kageyama didn't want people to see , the back of his mind supplied helpfully.
“I didn’t agree to hang out with you, and I don’t want to,” Kageyama stated bluntly. “I’m going-”
“Please wait!” Teru burst out again, resisting Kageyama’s tug at the door with his own thread of energy. Even at his improved level, it was like trying to play tug-of-war with a grizzly bear. “I would like to speak with you!”
“About what?” Kageyama asked suspiciously, ready to prise the door away from Teru’s grip and slam it in his face. Either that, or to wring his neck like a chicken and throw him into the concrete wall of the nearest building. Again.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, honestly,” Teru confessed.
Kageyama blinked, apparently taken aback. He tilted his head in a peculiarly bird-like fashion. He brought his hands up to fidget with them mindlessly as he ruminated on the other’s words.
“Fine,” he finally agreed. He glanced behind his shoulder, “but not here.”
“Oh! Did you have somewhere in m-,” Teru asked before the door was abruptly slammed in his face. He strained his ears to hear whatever was going on behind it.
There was a muffled statement that could have been, “ I’m heading out .” Teru heard Ritsu’s voice reply with something equally indistinct. There was a bit more back and forth between the two, before the door jolted back open. Teru straightened.
“Shige, it’s cold outside. Put on something warmer!” His mom fussed from somewhere out of view. He huffed and disappeared into his house once more, re-emerging after a few moments now wearing his green dog sweatshirt.
Teru couldn’t help but smile a bit with fondness. Kageyama just looked at him like he was crazy. “Your shoes?”
“Don’t need them,” he brushed past Teru and began walking down the sidewalk in only his socks. Teru half-expected the concrete to rend itself apart from sheer force of will like before. Maybe he’d just gotten better at self control.
“Where are we going?” Teru asked, easily keeping pace with his longer stride. He couldn’t help but notice the minute differences in Kageyama’s posture; more loose and retaining a level of confidence unusual to him. If Teru didn’t know better, he’d say Kageyama was taking his advice to heart.
“Park,” Kageyama explained.
“Ah.”
The rest of the walk was spent in silence. They probably looked like an unusual pair, strolling down the street. Teru in his elegant fashion statement and Kageyama in little more than his sleepwear. It was pretty amusing to think about.
Teru allowed the other esper to walk at least a step ahead of him. He observed the way Kageyama’s gait changed. It was stiff, but more as if it was rusty with disuse. He usually walked even and measured. Every step was the exact same length. He also seemed to stand straighter, daring to take up space rather than allow room for anyone or anything else. His typical passive gentleness seemed a little lacking now. It was kind of a shame because Teru always appreciated that about him.
Their excursion didn’t take very long before Kageyama turned left and entered through a gap between the high concrete wall. It was a park, alright. It looked like it was made for little kids to run around and play, more industrial in its choice of playground equipment than anything green, save for some weeds breaking through the ground.
Not to mention the path of ruin leading up to the entrance, cutting across the road in a straight line perpendicular from where they had approached. Beyond that, a barren streak of nothingness where buildings and roads and trees and power lines once stood immovable. It was the path Kageyama carved not too long ago, leading up to this very point to the pristine and untouched playground. This park was the focal point of something that Teru couldn’t comprehend- something deeply personal that had no choice but to turn itself inside-out.
Kageyama made a beeline for one of the empty benches. Thankfully, the place seemed empty for the day. The jungle gym and slide were abandoned, and the swing set rocked with a lonely metallic creaking. Coupled with the overcast dreary sky, the whole space felt… lonely.
Kageyama sat and tapped his foot and picked at his sweatshirt sleeves. He seemed distracted and a bit agitated, wound up with potential energy. Teru tried to think of how to start the next conversation properly.
“So, Kageyama- you… are Kageyama, right?”
“ Mn ,” the other esper grunted in irritation. “Of course I am. Who else would I be?” His irises flashed like an open wound.
“I’m just… unsure about how this all works,” Teru rubbed at the back of his neck nervously.
Truthfully, he was fighting the instinct to raise a barrier between them. Kageyama’s aura was just so overwhelming, so dense with sheer energy. Teru was an ant in the palm of his hand, one impulse away from being crushed. Any spirit that typically lingered in this place knew well to keep clear. Maybe that’s why the silence was so deafening. Even spaces that others believed were empty usually teemed with spiritual beings, but not here.
Kageyama huffed and rolled his eyes. “We’re the same person, just different parts of that person,” he explained testily.
He beckoned with one finger, plucking a dandelion from the cracked ground. He showed it to Teru- which in any other circumstance would have made him a bit flustered. Kageyama let it hover between them, and began methodically peeling it apart.
“All the pieces are still the same plant,” he said, twisting off its spiky leaves and detaching the root system from the delicate stem. It came apart like a map quietly unfolding. “If I planted this stem and let the roots grow out again it would just be that plant with two bodies.”
He removed every individual yellow petal until it formed an intricate array of dozens of golden flecks, with an innate precision many espers could only dream of. They floated in a radial pattern, a tiny sun in the palm of his hand. His gaze did not waver. “Get it?”
Teru prided himself on being a quick learner. He could pick up concepts, and in turn utilize many of them with ease. All it took was a bit of analysis and some first-hand experience. He could mold his aura into sharp whips, blast scorching fire from his palms, or fly across the city in a heartbeat if he wanted.
He tried to imagine what would cause a person to dichotomize themself like this. The past times he interacted with this Kageyama had only spelled trouble, when he was so filled with pain it overflowed. All he could think of was the utter hollowness on his blank face, and the way his friend curled into himself with grief and shame afterwards. They were images that tended to pass through his mind while he was racked by feverish defeat.
Kageyama certainly must have changed since “The Incident”, as everyone euphemistically termed it. Although, no one had seen much of him since then to confirm anything. He had spent almost a full week in hospital, concussed and fatigued. Teru had only visited him twice and each time he was so out of it they couldn’t even hold a conversation.
The week after that, Kageyama was homebound and ordered to stay away from school. Teru hadn’t visited him then (mostly because he couldn’t figure out a suave way to ask for his address on the sly) and their communication was limited to text. Needless to say, he felt like he’d been excluded from something important because of it all.
“So… why did you…,” Teru hesitantly asked, staring at the suspended bits of vivisected plant matter. He felt like saying the rest out loud was just asking to get throttled.
Kageyama sighed and closed his fist, and the dissected dandelion bits crumpled into a pathetic mass, then fell to the ground. He leaned back against the hard bench. “It doesn’t matter now,” his tone was heavy and worn out.
Teru swallowed thickly, worrying the fabric of his pant leg nervously. “Is it my fault?”
“ Hah ! No,” Kageyama scoffed derisively. His teeth flashed in a grimace. “It’s been like this much longer than we’ve known you .”
It was a comfort, and another wound, like pinching your arm to make a scrape hurt less. It was that odd use of diction: “ we ” and “ you ”. It cut a decisive line between them, where Kageyama was in and Teru was out. At school, he had been the one in every clique and social circle worth their salt. There was no excluding Hanazawa Teruki from anything, except now. It was just another day of humbling himself before Kageyama, but no one was there to witness his humility.
“What should I call you?” Teru tentatively changed the subject, trying not to sound like a hit dog.
“Kageyama Shigeo,” he replied neutrally, fixing his sharp gaze back on Teru. “Since that is my name.” His tone- or lack thereof- made it hard to distinguish sarcasm from aloofness.
“Right… Does- um- the other Kageyama prefer to go by Mob?” Now Teru was worried he’d been misidentifying his friend, and he just didn’t have the heart to correct him. Excellent friendship skills, Teru.
“I only called him that because that’s what people usually call him,” Kageyama said. “ We don’t really call each other anything . And everyone in my family just calls us both Shigeo, anyways.”
Teru’s stomach did a little somersault at the thought of calling Kageyama just “ Shigeo ”. It felt so… personal .
“Kageyama it is, then!” Teru tapped his fingers against his pant legs, feeling accomplished over this monumental feat.
“ Hm .”
This actually wasn’t going too badly so far! Nothing had exploded, so that was already a marked improvement to their last interaction. He was tempted to start conversing about their hobbies, compare their tastes. Maybe he could get Kageyama to go shopping with him after all.
“What did you want to tell me?” The other esper asked, still picking at his sleeves.
“Ah. Right.” Nevermind. This was going to get awkward fast.
Teru took one deep breath and steeled his nerves.
“Kageyama,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
“…Eh?” His friend said in a distinctly Kageyama way.
“I’m sorry,” Teru reiterated. “For all the stuff I did to you a while ago. I don’t think I ever properly said that, so I’m saying it now while I have the chance.”
“…Shouldn’t you be apologizing to him , instead?” His impassive visage was getting a workout trying to display a look of irritated discomfort.
“Well, we’ve been through a lot together. I’ve tried to make my actions speak louder than words, you know?” Teru shrugged.
It seemed like after helping Ritsu come to his senses, Kageyama had absolved him of any wrongdoings. Hell, he forgave Shou for burning his house down and staging his family’s deaths. What was some light strangulation in the face of that ?
Kageyama’s face remained stuck in a look of bemusement. It was like even the nebulous concept of an apology- of reconciliation- was indecipherable to him. His eyes drifted off into the middle distance as he contemplated the blond’s words. He seemed to come up at a loss.
The esper waited a few seconds before answering. “This is strange. I wasn’t expecting to get apologized to today,” he shifted as if to stand. “Especially you, of all people. This is awkward. I’m going home.”
“Wait-,” Teru began, reaching for his friend’s shoulder. He didn’t even think twice about grabbing for him, because he had done it so often before.
However, as soon as Teru moved, Kageyama rounded back on him and the expression twisted into something that ceased to be Kageyama , it ceased to be human entirely.
It was like coming face-to-face with some deep sea creature that emerged from the abyssal zone, wide eyes and bright lights and sharp teeth. It defied human understanding, and its incomprehensible form was strange and terrifying. Its eyes were like beacons into something beyond reality or the constraints of time, piercing into his brain with a crystalline intent to grab hold and never let go.
It set his hair bristling, his lungs compressed and his heart stuttered and his brain simply stopped . Teru stared into the headlights, immobilized with shock and unable to leap out of the way of this thing so close to crashing into him.
And suddenly, it was only Kageyama again, sitting next to him on a playground bench with a tired expression. It felt like Teru had failed a test he didn’t even know he was taking.
“See? Don’t bother,” he sighed. “People don’t change so easily.”
Teru wasn’t sure what to say, he struggled to inhale again. The sweat was cold against the back of his neck, and the bench was hard beneath him. All he could feel inside was that familiar sense of guilt and shame and humiliation creeping in again at having his own words thrown back in his face. Teru looked down. “Right.”
Kageyama turned away and spoke without remorse, “I don’t forgive you.” His fingers were poised near his throat, like he could still feel the other’s hands squeezing there. “The feeling just never goes away.” He moved to leave, but Teru interjected before he could.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” the blond esper said, his hands sitting obediently in his lap. “I regret what I did regardless. That’s how I know I’ve changed. Even if we take a few steps back, I… really hope we can still keep moving forward.”
He swallowed nervously, his mouth felt terribly dry. “If we can’t be friends, can we at least just be, like, ordinary people around each other?”
Kageyama paled, eyes wide in surprise. Then his mouth quirked up into a thin amused smirk like he was holding in a laugh, before curling into something far more bitter. The facial spasm happened in the span of half a second. “Funny,” he spat.
“What?”
“You calling me average. Again ,” Kageyama turned away and hunched over, covering his face with his hands.
His aura was heavy and acidic, so saturated with psychic energy it was suffocating. The metal playground equipment started creaking and rattling around them. The air tasted like iron and there was a high-pitched ringing assaulting his ears again, a pressure squeezing his head like a vice. It reminded Teru of searing light, of blood filling his nose and burning his eyes, of his head splitting open. He couldn’t help the shot of adrenaline that coursed through his system.
“Kageyama,” he began nervously, hand hovering near his shoulder once more. The skin of his palm felt raw and itchy. “It’s okay-”
Teru paused. When he leaned closer to his friend, he realized he wasn’t shaking with sadness. He was laughing .
Kageyama leaned back and laughed. His raven hair fanned out from his face and his eyes crinkled and he smiled wider than he’d ever seen. Teru had never heard him laugh before, the closest he’d gotten was a smile and lighter tonal inflection. He traced the delicate curve in his lips and brow, stunned and silent.
He wouldn’t have qualified his statement as funny .
Just as swiftly as it came, the moment passed, and Kageyama’s outburst of amusement dissolved into gasping sobs. The tears that pricked at his eyelashes now streamed down his face grievously. His shoulders practically heaved with the weight of it all.
“ O-ordinary people ,” Kageyama warbled, sniffing and wiping at his face. “As if- as if y-you know anything about me.”
“I know what it’s like to be an esper and not fit in,” Teru answered as gently as he could. His entire body was wound tight like a spring, ready to leap into action.
The other teen just shook his head. He hugged his knees to his chest and curled up miserably in his seat. Kageyama pressed himself closed and rocked back and forth. Teru noticed that the metal play structures of the swing set and jungle gym were bending themselves into modern art pieces nearby. They shrieked dissonantly as they writhed.
“Hanazawa,” he turned his head to the side to speak, “you’re not like me.” He sniffed again. “You’re still you . And I’m- I’m all- fucked up in my head.”
“I- I don’t-,” Teru stammered. It was frustrating. He wanted to be able to say the right thing, but it felt like every way he usually appealed to Kageyama was having the complete opposite effect now. It felt like he didn’t really understand his friend at all. That was the worst part. He didn’t know this person that was so wound up and full of energy and emotion, the pendulum of mood swung back and forth without a set tempo. It was chaotic and pained, and Teru hated the feeling of helplessness that came with being a contributing factor.
“You’re right,” Teru sighed. If all else failed, he would once again swallow his pride and hopefully regurgitate honesty. “I don’t know. I don’t really know you at all. But I’d like to.”
Kageyama paused his rocking motions, shoulders still hitching as he hiccupped. Teru took it as a sign to continue.
“Even if you don’t like me, or you can’t forgive me, I still want to try being someone you can depend on.”
Kageyama peered at him, ruby eyes raw with misery. He pressed his face against his knees again. “I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone. That’s not- I can’t …”
“That’s fine,” Teru stated resolutely, unwaveringly. “As much as it takes. I’ll do it.”
Next to him, Kageyama sighed into his knees. The ball of anxious energy that writhed through the space finally relaxed its hold. Teru felt like he could properly breathe again. He wasn’t sure if it was acceptance, or retreat.
The esper by his side finally lifted his head, his messy jet black hair no longer sticking up as if full of a static charge. Kageyama’s face was still flushed and tear-stained, but it was utterly flat. His gaze dragged across the empty playground in a daze, and finally landed on Teru himself. His irises were again a deep, dark maroon, like blood long since clotted.
Teru couldn’t help the surge of fondness that bloomed in his ribcage, an a-ha! moment, a reunion of sorts. It had been a while since he’d seen his friend, and he hadn’t realized just how much he missed him until the void had been filled again.
“Yo,” he said suavely, giving a little two finger salute. It received no outwards reaction. That was fine.
“Are you feeling alright?” Teru tried again.
It felt a bit like he was talking to a brick wall, but he’d known Kageyama for far too long to get discouraged by his blank face. Usually, he just needed some time to think before speaking, and Teru had the patience of a saint.
“My head hurts,” Kageyama muttered, pressing his palms against his forehead. It made his hair become more unkempt. “Where are we?” He asked while pinching his eyes shut.
“The park by your house.”
“Mm.”
Teru twiddled his thumbs while Kageyama finally unfolded himself and put his feet back on the ground. They allowed the silence to hang heavy between them.
“Um,” Kageyama hesitated, “what were we doing here again?”
“Well! You know!” The blond esper stated a bit too enthusiastically, “just talking!”
“Mm,” the other nodded.
“How do I put this…” Teru muttered, then continued, “I was talking to the other you.”
Kageyama blinked, trying to process his words through the molasses in his brain. Once the sentence finally registered, the smooth impassivity of his face cracked. His aura, which had been lulled into a simmer, began bubbling again with nervous energy. He slowly looked around them, as if expecting the entire area to have been devastated.
“It’s fine!” Teru assured, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “We just talked! Nothing bad happened.”
Kageyama didn’t look very convinced. He finally saw all the twisted up playground structures. He didn’t say a single thing, but his eyes lingered for an uncomfortable length of time.
“Sorry. I think I… maybe upset him,” Teru sighed and ran his hand over his hair. “I just don’t think we get along well…”
“...He’s not very easy to talk to,” Kageyama mumbled, picking at his sleeve again. It was a bad habit.
Teru laughed a bit nervously. THose were understatements of the century. “Even so, I wanted to try and make up, you know?”
“I know,” Kageyama said softly. “Thank you.”
“Of course!” Teru squeaked. Heat bloomed on his face and pooled in his stomach. He had to quickly check whether he was levitating or not. He willed himself to stay firmly planted in his seat.
Once again, the other esper just hummed and kept teasing the threads of his sweatshirt. He appeared lost in thought.
“We’ve been… trying to get along better. I guess,” Kageyama said haltingly, as if wringing the words out of his brain. “I… spent a lot of time pushing him away. And it wasn’t fair. But it’s hard.”
Now it was Teru’s turn to simply hum in agreement. He didn’t even dare interrupt his friend now, when this was the most he’d actually spoken to him in the past few weeks.
“… I never realized I haven’t really talked about this before,” Kageyama mused. He was relaxed and still, hands idle on his lap. “Maybe Ritsu, a little bit. I’m not sure. I haven’t really been… around lately.”
“What do you mean?” Teru prompted. They’d definitely texted lately. Lots of silly memes and explaining said memes and such. Though, Kageyama was always pretty slow to respond. Or maybe Teru was the one always glued to his phone. Details.
For a moment, Kageyama looked a bit embarrassed. He hesitated and inclined his head. He was a fairly literal person, not prone to making references or metaphors without absolute necessity. Teru supposed he was working overtime trying to make sense of his thoughts. It was easy, then, to differentiate this one from the other. It was easy to see where one completed what the other lacked, where the parts fit into a whole. To Teru, it made sense.
“We’ve been trying to- fit together at the same time. It works for a while, but then one of us falls asleep, or thinks of something bad, and just… goes away for a little while.” Another pause before resuming. “It used to not really happen as much before, but whenever it did, bad things happened…,” like an entire building being ripped from its foundations and put back together again, or earthquakes and tornadoes. “Now I’ll just wake up and see my whole room is reorganized or all the kitchen utensils twisted up again.”
“It’s just a lot, huh?” Teru inquired, easing back into the bench. Bending spoons didn’t sound like that bad of a trade, honestly.
“Yes. It’s tiring,” Kageyama agreed. “Actually, he and Ritsu got into an argument yesterday. He broke all the light bulbs in the house because of it.” His brows creased at the memory, a troubled frown pulled at his mouth.
“I see…” Being an only child, this was the most unfathomable point of conversation to him. Everything seemed to turn out alright, he supposed. “It’s normal to have sibling fights every now and then, I think. Do they not get along?”
“Oh!” Now Kageyama seemed to perk up a bit more, as he usually did with his little brother. “No, no. They usually do. He just tries to baby him more, and I don’t think Ritsu likes it.”
Teru gave a chuckle at that. That sounded about right for the oh-so-mature Little Brother. The mental image of Kageyama nagging him was pretty funny.
“So, what’s he like, to you?” Teru inquired. “Or- is it okay if I ask?”
Kageyama’s dark eyes drifted into an imperceptible middle-ground, lost in thought. The empty space of the gap in conversation grew ever wider. Teru cleared his throat as nonchalantly as possible, which finally seemed to rouse his companion.
“It’s okay,” he answered, then waited. “Oh,” Kageyama continued, mentally walking back from the latter inquiry, “he’s… me. I guess. But it doesn’t really feel like it.”
“Like… possession?” Teru proposed.
“No!” For a moment, Kageyama’s eyes flashed white-hot. There was a snapping sensation, a quick spark of electric shock. His fists clenched and he ground his teeth together. “This vessel is mine ,” he snapped, bunching the front of his sweatshirt into his fist. It wrinkled the cute puppy face emblazoned on the front.
Before Teru could blurt out an apology, Kageyama relaxed. He huffed and tilted forward, catching his head in his hand. He leaned back again to blink blearily at Teru, recollecting his bearings.
“… Like a brother, then?” Teru inquired.
“Uhm… no,” Kageyama answered hesitantly. “Not really, I don’t think. It’s not like with Ritsu,” he paused. “Ritsu’s better at explaining it, actually... I guess it would be like if your aura got a mind of its own, in a way.”
To any natural-born esper, an aura was like an arm or leg. It was an extension of oneself, as distinct and recognizable as one’s own face. It was as strange as saying your heart got a mind of its own. Its own personhood and ideals separate from its involuntary rhythmic vascular pumping. Teru’s lack of response made his impassive face- in a truly miraculous display of social aptitude- relent to a smidge of despair.
“Ah… Sorry. I’m not good at this. I’ve never really had to do this before,” Kageyama sighed, defeated.
“No,” Teru resisted immediately, “you don’t have anything to apologize for! I shouldn’t be prying you about it so much,” he huffed. Kageyama appeared taken aback, like he couldn’t even fathom the idea of Teru making a social faux pas. “I just- I want to be supportive of you. Uh- both of you.”
He took a moment to process the words, carefully turning over the statement for thorough mental inspection. Upon completion, Kageyama’s eyes widened in surprise, color welling into his face and brightening his irises nigh imperceptibly. It wasn’t in his facial expression, but in his aura. The way it grew light and fuzzy, practically humming like a gigantic house cat.
“O-oh. I see,” he mumbled, tripping over his words. Actually, it looked like he was sweating a little. Hopefully not running a fever? Little Brother would never forgive him.
“Are you feeling alright, Kageyama?” Said teenager just nodded silently, face still dusted pink.
“I’m just not used to feeling things so much. In general,” he said candidly. He took a deep breath and relaxed, the energy buzzing in the air dissipated for the time being. “I’m out of practice.” He said it the way someone laments that they’re out-of-shape on New Year’s Eve. It was absurd, like stating you were out of practice with breathing. But it was also oddly endearing, in the earnest, headstrong way that only Kageyama could be.
Teru just chuckled and shook his head good-naturedly. With a flick of his wrist, the tangled metallic playground structure righted themselves. His liquid-gold aura poured over them, washing over Kageyama’s lingering psychic energy and setting the structures straight. They rearranged back into their original places, sturdy and upright and beautifully obedient.
“Ah- you didn’t…,” Kageyama began, then paused. “Thank you, Hanazawa.”
“But of course!” Teru brushed a stray hair from his forehead with a practiced flourish and wink. Kageyama just stared at him like he was something particularly shiny and intriguing.
“Shall I escort you back home?” Teru continued with a wan grin. It felt like they’d reached the end of this… whatever it was. A sudden finality, a door closed- but hopefully not locked.
“Okay,” Kageyama said, and Teru detected a trace of reluctant disappointment.
And so they both stood up and left the park bench. Kageyama winced ever so slightly at the sudden realization that he was without shoes. Teru, having no solution to the conundrum beyond offering to levitate him, stayed silent. When they reached the entrance to the park, and the vast strip of decimated land that stretched beyond it and carving a path through Seasoning City, Kageyama stopped.
“Tsubomi turned me down, you know,” he said abruptly. The words tumbled out of his mouth with clumsy and reckless abandon.
“That’s…,” Teru, on the other hand, considered his next words carefully, “a real shame.”
His friend just fixed his perplexed gaze on him, his deep eyes like pockets of darkness. “Why?” he questioned simply.
“Well, you tried so hard to get her attention,” the blond answered truthfully. “It’s just… a shame,” he repeated. A shame that all that work was for nothing, a shame that he tried so hard. It was a shame that Kageyama didn’t get what he wanted after all. That was what was supposed to happen to the good guy. Most of all, it was a shame that life was so much more complicated than television and books made you think it was.
“Well, that’s not exactly true,” Kageyama just shrugged it off, surprisingly unfazed. “We hadn’t talked since elementary school, but I was able to now. She gave me her phone number.” He smiled, happy at the simplest concession. It was his own tiny victory of sorts.
He took a confident step forward, and they kept on walking.
Despite the gray sky, the day seemed quiet and peaceful. The air smelled of springtime rain, wet concrete and grass. Above them was a blanket of gently rolling clouds, and the entire neighborhood was empty of passersby. It almost felt as though the two espers were the only living things in the world at that moment, strolling along sidewalks lined with empty houses. The illusion was broken only by the occasional bird or cat making itself known and flitting out of sight.
“I’m not sure if I ever liked her, really,” Kageyama broke the silence suddenly. His socked feet made muffled thumps against the concrete with each footstep. “In the way that I wanted her to- to be my girlfriend,” he mumbled, turning red from embarrassment at the concept entirely.
Teru only hummed, encouraging him to continue. It felt like words would only impede the natural flow of truth.
“I think I was just… feeling someone else’s feelings,” the esper confessed, pointedly looking straight ahead, gaze unwavering. “That’s what he told me. That the one who felt anything for Tsubomi was him.”
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, “I just wonder what is and isn’t me sometimes.” It was a simple, passionaless statement. It was as objective as objective could be. His words held neither malice not pain, yet Teru still felt the need to intervene here and offer something of comfort.
“You’re as much of a person as he is,” he stated confidently. “You feel. I know you do. I’ve seen it.” It was just usually more subdued, but sometimes it came tumbling out all at once. He saw it so many times, but the first especially stuck. When his hands were squeezed around his throat, like pinching the end of a water hose shut. His face red from stress as tears leaked from his eyes and spit foamed at his lips. An utterly human struggle as he thrashed, not externally against his assailant, but internally against his own self.
Kageyama in the present stopped walking again to state at the other esper. His face had slowly twisted itself up into a consternated look not dissimilar to the one in Teru’s mind’s eye. He appeared stunned in an unpleasant way, a well of unhappiness seeped from the cracks in his visage.
“I don’t know,” he replied hesitantly. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I don’t think so at all.”
“What do you mean?” Teru asked lightly. He had stopped walking, too.
“I don’t know,” he repeated helplessly. “Sometimes everything just feels really far away, like it’s not real,” Kageyama was not looking at him. He was looking somewhere beyond him, into nothingness. “I get really small, and I feel like I can’t control myself… I feel like- I don’t know. Like I’m a thing, not a person.”
Teru knew what he meant. He remembered seeing it, when the other took off that human mask just for a moment. What was below it was terrifying, but only because it was unknown. It was something so vast, yet condensed into a singularity. The thing was emptiness, a destructive force, an assembly of atoms. The pale light and the obfuscating darkness altogether. Most importantly, these things were all undoubtedly part of his friend.
“You’re Kageyama no matter what,” Teru clapped his shoulder reassuringly.
The relief was palpable, a release of building pressure. Kageyama seemed anchored by the physical contact, turning to Teru with an expression of pure gratitude. He felt a bubble of happiness expand in his rib cage at that.
“Thank you, Hanazawa,” his friend’s voice was rough, heavy with exhaustion. Teru just smiled and nodded, not trusting his voice to not raise an octave or two at that.
Still, there was something Kageyama was not saying, something that made a deep prickling pain stretch itself out. There was something Teru was missing here. It left him feeling unbalanced, the way he often was when defending himself from Claw enemies. He needed to be proactive about any and all threats, and that definitely included threats to Kageyama.
But there was no prying it out of Kageyama if he didn’t want to talk about it. He needed to come out of his shell on his own terms, or it would just stress him out more. He’d bury it deeper and deeper until it exploded everywhere, leaving a trail of viscera behind. If there was one thing Teru had, it was faith. He had unwavering faith that Kageyama would make the right choice, and above all that he was a good person.
It wasn’t long before they were in front of the Kageyama household’s front gate again.
Its resident undid the latch with a simple and practiced tug of psychic energy. It was a pleasant surprise, seeing him actually use psychokinesis for everyday things was an exceedingly rare event for Teru. They both made their way to the Kageyama residence’s front door. It didn’t take even three seconds for Ritsu to burst it open- most likely sensing their auras from a block away. He took one look at his brother, and immediately began his worrying.
“Ah, Shige,” his eyes scanned across the mussed hair and red-rimmed eyes with clinical perception, then shot over to Teruki apprehensively. “You’re back.”
“Hi Ritsu,” Kageyama replied, oblivious to anything but the simple fact that he was elated to see his little brother again. “I’m back.”
“Yeah…,” Ritsu paused to mull over his next words, “did something happen?”
There was an increase in pressure in Teru’s head, his molars ached slightly. Kageyama’s brows shot up in surprise, then his face scrunched and his shoulders rose an inch. Teru was starting to recognize it, it was like he was having to warm up his facial muscles before speaking. “We just talked,” he stated tersely, defensively. His aura buzzed like a rattlesnake. Defiant.
There was a tense, brief moment of silence, punctuated only by the sixth sense humm of psychic energy. Then, Ritsu gave the most world-weary sigh Teru had ever heard from a middle-schooler. It looked like he’d aged five years in that bubble of quiet. “Get inside,” he motioned for his brother to join him.
Teru had never seen this aspect of their dynamic, where Kageyama was the one pouting and resisting instead. During the 7th Division incident Ristu was practically on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness from the other, and Kageyama only ever spoke respectfully and kindly of his brother. For a second, Teru was worried this small spat would spiral into something far more serious. He had just mentioned a collection of broken light bulbs being the rewards for an earlier disagreement. He glanced between the brothers, ready to turn on his barrier at a split-second notice- years of self-defense left him with a chronic hair-trigger.
“Okay,” Kageyama acquiesced. Crisis averted. Teru did not understand how siblings worked at all. He then turned to face Teru, staring with an intensity that made it seem as though he had more to say. Again, those cherry-red eyes were utterly captivating, evaluating him from hair tips to toes. He squinted and tilted his head, attempting to peer at a different facet of Teruki’s character under a new light.
“You’ve changed,” Kageyama said.
Teru couldn’t help it. He felt practically radiant with light, venerated with the highest of all praises. Two simple words was all it took for his shoes to leave the ground. He felt lighter than helium itself. His aura was honey-sweet, coursing through his bloodstream and making his brain fuzzy. “You really think so?” He asked giddily. Somewhere in the background, Ritsu rolled his eyes.
“I know so,” he reasserted plainly and oh man, he was getting a little light-headed from all this praise. Kageyama just squinted at him, very cool and unimpressed by all these absurd theatrics.
After a beat of soaking in the bliss, Teru got a hold of himself and remembered where he was. His shoes once again reconnected with the pavement. He took a deep breath and willed his face to stop feeling so hot. It worked marginally.
“ Ahem ,” Teru cleared his throat, “thanks.”
Kageyama blinked as if adjusting to harsh sunlight after emerging from the shade. He rubbed at his eyes and refocused, and it was back to the Kageyama he knew so well. His aura mellowed into a softer background hum. “It was nice seeing you again, Hanazawa,” he said, then paused like he was listening to something. “Ah- we were supposed to go shopping today… I forgot…”
“It’s alright!” Teru brushed it off easily. “We’ll definitely go, when you’re feeling better,” he smiled. “I still need to find out what the other guy likes,” he added.
Kageyama’s eyes crinkled with mirth, and the small smile he gave could have powered the entire city for a decade at least. “He liked the monkey shirt.”
“Seriously!?” Teru and Ritsu said in tandem.
“I mean- no offense, but…” Ritsu trailed off. He slumped in defeat, coming to the realization that there was truly no saving his brother’s fashion sense.
“That’s incredible,” Teru chuckled.
Kageyama flashed him one more gentle smile before turning to join his brother indoors. It was an agreeable distance between them, one that didn’t feel so uncrossable now. “See you later, Hanazawa.”
“Bye, Kageyama,” Teru gave an airy wave back. He tried not to sound too embarrassingly smitten, but as the door closed and Ritsu gave him a very knowing look, he couldn’t help but sigh.
Then he was alone, but it didn’t feel lonely. In fact, as he strolled his way back home, his heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.
Hope , that’s what it was. Teruki had absolute hope for the future. That there were better things beyond the stagnating past and uncertain present waiting for him. The newly growing hairs on his scalp were itchy. Helicopters whirred overhead and construction workers banged away at their projects all across the city. Just because what had been built before was destroyed didn’t mean they couldn’t start over again. It was an opportunity for things to be better , for all those prior mistakes to be worth it in the end. He hadn’t realized how those old feelings had been weighing him down all this time. Teru could only hope it felt the same way for Kageyama.
Just like he had hoped, today had been a spectacular day after all.