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"Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine... One hundred-"
"You can stop there."
Apathy seemed to be the name of Fushimi Yuzuru's game. With a perpetual bored look sewn into his face alongside his apparent lack of care for his- or anyone else's, for that matter- life in general, it was easy to guess that he didn't actually have any desire to be in this military environment. But then again, neither did Ibara, so she could empathise with that. As Ibara sat up from her previous press-up position, Yuzuru turned away, one arm behind his back to face her, whilst the other was held up in front of his chest in a sling that seemed way to fancy to be from a military hospital. Perhaps he was allowed out of this place to go to a normal hospital. That was a gruesomely comforting thought for Ibara.
But it had also come to Ibara's attention that this guy was always hurt. If it wasn't a broken arm, then he had some kind of horrific injury. To the normal person, it would be quite concerning, but to Ibara, it wasn't something she cared much for; if Yuzuru somehow managed to die from all this injuries, she wouldn't have anyone telling her to do hundreds of push-ups every single day. But then again, she did suppose that it would get a bit lonely without the only other child in this place. But that wasn't something for her to worry about: it was basically impossible for Yuzuru to die, he'd proven that by now. She stood up from the dirty floor, wiping the back of her trousers to get rid of the residual dust that accompanied her as she did so. "So, what did you do to your arm?" she questioned, almost as if trying to make small talk like any normal person would.
Yuzuru didn't appear to have much of a reaction, he merely carried on flipping through the book of fieldcraft training that he was supposed to be going through and teaching Ibara before she started talking back to him and he decided to punish her with push-ups: her favourite activity in the whole wide world. He sighed, not pulling his focus away from his teaching manual as he thought of an answer to her question. "I was riding an elephant and fell off and I was about to die but then a hawk came and saved me but then it accidentally dropped me and I still broke my arm." What a fabulous lie, it really was a shame that Ibara wasn't pleased by his awful storytelling abilities. Yuzuru got the hint that she wanted a real answer by the silence that echoed around them. "I threw myself into a wall enough times for my shoulder to dislocate," He answered, finally telling the horrifying truth.
Ibara stayed silent, not too sure what to say. She was sure that there was something wrong with this kid- no normal child would throw themselves down stairs and into walls, accidentally cut their fingers every other day when making dinner, or throw themselves into a terrifyingly dangerous situation that even made Ibara feel uneasy at every chance he got. She was sure that there was something wrong in Yuzuru's mind.
The blue-haired boy, however, seemed to have a different outlook on his actions: he deemed them a necessary evil. "You know, I will make sure that I die out here," he mused out loud, dragging Ibara's attention away from the floor, where it had been before. It seriously unsettled her how he was ever so intent on dying. What normal eleven year old would have such a long streak of trying to die? "Even if I have to take drastic measures, I'll die. My parents deserve to suffer the pain of me dying in this place: they sent me here, after all."
Ibara furrowed her eyebrows, staring at the boy with an intensity that seemed almost hurtful. She looked all over his face for something to suggest that he was joking. From the scar over his eyebrow, down into his lavender eyes, the week-old wound that lay across his face from cheek to cheek that would surely turn into a scar later in his life, even down to his rosy lips. But there was nothing. Surely Yuzuru didn't mean something like that. Surely his parents loved him greatly and just wanted to prepare him for the worst so that he would be able to take care of himself and have the greatest chance of survival no matter what the world threw at him, surely. That's what Ibara believed, because surely parents wouldn't do something like that to their own child. That's what she wanted to believe, at least. She wasn't exactly sure, considering her parents died when she was too young to remember them. But surely Yuzuru's parents would be nice enough for him to not hate them so much that he would ensure his own death before he were to see them again. Surely?
———
It was on the long, sleepless nights that memories like that returned to her. Usually the ones where she had work piling up behind her that needed to get finished and upcoming events and whatnot. She lay awake in her room, silent and unmoving, in fear of waking up any of her roommates. But before she even knew it, six in the morning had rolled around and it was time for her to begin her day. She sat up in bed, being blessed with a lack of creaking and squeaking underneath her. She let out a sigh as she threw her legs over the side of her bed and stood up. She rubbed her face with her hands, moving towards the door of her dorm. She slipped her feet into her slippers, opening the door and then closing it again after she'd exited the room. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to be lazy and not walk at an incredibly- borderline concerning- pace, but right now, it was too early for any meetings or training, so she was allowed to take her time and not rush herself. She wandered through the Starmony Halls, making her way down a flight of stairs before arriving at her destination: the communal kitchen. It was almost like a ritual, something she could do even without her glasses that took away the cloudiness and blurriness of her natural vision that had been absolutely desacrated during her time in the military institution of her childhood. But that had happened so long ago that she could barely even remember what it was like to be able to see anything clear enough to understand what it was without her glasses or those pesky contact lenses that itched ever so terribly.
She took a quick glance around, unable to see the details of what was around her, but more than capable of understanding her surroundings vaguely. She did manage to figure out, through furrowed brows and a rather intense stare, that Jun was in the kitchen as well making some kind of breakfast. She thought it was strange for Jun to be awake so early, but she also didn't really think about it too much: perhaps he also had to be somewhere early, perhaps he just couldn't sleep. She wandered up beside the boy, standing particularly close to him- close enough, in fact to rest her tired head against his arm. It was a vulgar action, one that would never happen with anyone else, nor with anyone watching. It was a sign of weakness, in her opinion. But it was also Jun, and Jun wasn't necessarily someone she could trust, but there was a sense of comradeship between them that linked them in a way that others didn't understand. Or perhaps Jun had simply been through circumstances that weren't quite the same, but were similar enough to warrant understanding for each other. "You're up early today, Jun, are you alright?" she asked.
There were a few moments of silence. Ibara debated questioning it, but then decided she couldn't be bothered to. Besides, perhaps Jun was just articulating a way to explain whatever was causing him to be awake so early in the morning. "Saegusa, I believe you have forgotten your glasses."
Between the apathy of the spoken words, the soft, almost fragile, or perhaps even shy, tone, Ibara could do nothing other than allow her eyes to widen greatly as she stared at the wall ahead of her, unable to truly see what was going on. After taking the time to react to what was going on, she cleared her throat. She stood up from where she was leant against the boy next to her. "It appears to be so," she commented, trying ever so desperately to not let it become apparent how embarrassing of a situation this was. How horrific it was to have mistaken her most hated enemy for her beloved unitmate that she truly didn't mind the company of.
It was things like this that made her think of that time.
———
"Lance corporal?"
Silence.
"Lance corporal Fushimi?"
Nothing.
"Fushimi?"
Still, not a response at all.
"Yuzuru?"
Ibara could feel the way the hairs on the nape of her neck rose in fear. She pushed open the door in front of her. It was a door she'd opened plenty of times before, the door to a little room that had been allocated to her and the only other young child in the entire military camp, which just so happened to be lance corporal Fushimi himself. Ibara knew that boy didn't exactly have the best streak of self-preservation, but this situation was far worse. The entire day had been spent with Ibara walking on eggshells around the agitated lance corporal, or rather, doing push-ups after getting on his nerves. Until he disappeared after the evening knock-off, of course. He escaped straight to their shared room. And Ibara could only hope that nothing had gone wrong between the time he got to that room and Ibara could get out of a conversation with an older officer to reach him.
She didn't really care about him, not at all. But there were a few factors as to why she didn't want something horrific to happen in that time: first, she would lose the only person who was anywhere near her own age in this place; second, she didn't want to have the duty of finding the mess it would leave in her room; thirdly, her room got awfully cold at night, who would she go and cuddle up to when she was shivering?
She reached out, pushing the door ever so slowly. "Yuzu...ru?" she called out, hoping and praying with her heart that beat far too quickly for her own good that Yuzuru would be fine and safe and he just didn't hear her outside. She looked around, frozen in place when she finally saw the sorry excuse of a boy. He was shaky, tears threatening to fall out of his lavender eyes and over the line of eyelashes that Ibara somehow always seemed to find ever so pretty. Not in a way as if she liked him, but in an objective way, she could appreciate pretty features, even on people she didn't like. And he was holding a pocket knife. Of course he was holding a pocket knife. Ibara slipped through the doorway, letting the door fall shut behind her as she knelt down next to Yuzuru. She reached over, taking the pocket knife out of his weak grasp without any resistance. "That's no good," she commented, unsure of what to say really. She looked down at his arms.
Only a singular scratch, not even deep. Almost like a test.
Yuzuru tilted his head up where he sat to look at Ibara. "I wish to die," he commented, voice barely more than a whisper, as if he had nothing more that he could say in a situation like this. Water tipped over his eyelashes, running down his face in thin streams. "Please," he begged, voice strained with tears. "I wish to die, I can't live in this place, please don't force me to live any longer," he pleaded with the girl.
Ibara shook her head, stashing the knife in her pocket. "Who'll keep my feet warm in winter?" she questioned. "If you die, then there'll be no one my age," she added. "What will I do all alone?" She hummed in thought. She leaned over, wrapping her arms around her most hated enemy. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't even touch the boy. But Yuzuru was suffering because of his own mind, and that was something not even he deserved to have to deal with, no matter how much she hated him. She held him tight and close, swaying from side to side in an attempt to soothe him just a little. "I would hate it if you died, I truly would," she insisted. "Who will tell me to do five hundred push-up per day?"
Somehow, that was what got through to him. Through the tears and the shaking, a small smile cracked through the crevices of Yuzuru's mental breakdown in such a beautiful way that even his puffy and red eyes seemed so pretty and so lovely to take a look at. Even if he was Ibara's most hated enemy. Ibara almost found him beautiful. She would've really believed he was, if it weren't for how deeply her hatred for him ran. If it weren't for her ego and self-centred attitude, perhaps she would've been able to lower her standards enough to find him beautiful.
———
She rubbed her face with her hands, groaning through the action. What an embarrassing situation. It was almost as if whatever God was out there was chiding her for her sins of greed and deception. She shifted where she stood, uncomfortability seeping through her skin and into her bones throughout the silence. If only circumstances were different, this kind of situation wouldn't have been so embarrassing. "Well then," she began, beginning to turn away from her most hated enemy. "I'll be off then. I don't particularly fancy having to look at your ugly face any longer, I might go entirely blind if I did," she commented, chuckling under her breath at her own joke.
She would've turned and ran straight back to her room, if it weren't for the hand that held tight as a snake constricting around it's prey onto her forearm like a vice to keep her in place. She met the eyes of her captor, unable to decipher the blurred face before her. He stayed silent for barely a moment, almost as if he were contemplating what to say to the girl. "Ibara," he called out her name. He paused, searching for something invisible on her stone cold features. Ibara was almost concerned she was about to be berated for something. But no horrific yelling or chiding ever came; instead, an ever so gentle and ever so soft touch met her tanned cheek that caused her to flinch just ever so slightly, in a way that was barely even noticeable. "Don't forget to moisturise your skin, lest your scars become dry and more visible," he reminded her, ever so softly and ever so gently- almost too gently for something that did hit quite the nerve for poor Ibara.
Ibara had ever so nearly forgotten just how she got those scars until that moment.
———
In and out, in and out, her breathing was ever so rapid. Ibara had never really experienced something so exhilarating and yet terrifying in her life. It was an infiltration mission with her platoon. Yet somehow, she found herself alone. Adrenaline had taken over her body by this point; she barely even recognised the ache in her poor, thin shoulders from carrying her rifle that was probably the same size as she was. She could feel the way her blood was pounding through her veins over and over again without respite. Something about the sheer fear created by her situation enhanced everything that was going on. Someone sat down next to her. For a moment, she thought it was danger, something to kill before her. But as she turned to face it, she relaxed upon seeing the familiar face of her senior, the only person who was the same age as her. She let out a breath of relief, shoulders drooping as she leant her head back against the wall she was sat behind. "Don't you hate this kind of thing?" she questioned, voice no more than a breathless whisper.
Yuzuru nodded as he settled down on his knees beside the older girl. "I hate anything that isn't theory-based," he confirmed. He took a look around, letting his rifle rest against the sling support it was in for the sake of the operation. "I don't know why they don't just let me train to become a medic. I'd be much happier," he insisted. He turned to face her, apathetic gaze resting on her face for just long enough for her to become self-conscious over the prolonged stare. "Your face," he muttered, blinking before finally making a move on doing anything. He opened one of the pockets on his rifle vest, rummaging through to find his beloved first aid kit. It was no secret- at least not to Ibara- that Yuzuru much preferred first aid, navigation and anything that didn't involve too much physical exertion in comparison to shooting or field exercises, but alas he was stuck with the role of a rifleman. He took his rifle off of resting through the sling on his shoulder, instead laying it down on the floor as he shuffled as close as possible to the girl. He placed his first aid kit on top of his rifle, unexpectedly soft hand reaching to hold Ibara's face.
She froze up at the contact, not having a moment to expect that the boy was going to be so caring with her. He wiped her face with a sterile wipe, and she could've slapped him for the sting it left on her cheek. But she didn't, simply because of the ever so loving and ever so sweet touch left on her skin. Besides, the sting was gone before she even knew it, instead replaced with a dressing, held down by surgical tape. But even after the job was done, his hands lingered: they never left her face, not for a good long while. Despite his usual apathy, his eyes seemed to have softened as his brows furrowed in worry. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked, uncharicaristically gentle with his words. His fingers danced over her tanned skin, checking for any and all possible injuries.
Ibara could do nothing other than shake her head. How on earth could she have had a different reaction when she was being treated with such care and love that she had never been given before? It was an almost fleeting experience of pure and utter joy in this devilish hell hole, the simple touch of the boy that she surprisingly had plenty in common with, before his hands moved and he seemed to be lost to the world of reality and harsh and cruel life before him. He shifted, closing his first aid kit and shoving it away and out of sight before returning his rifle sling to his shoulder. "Well, that's good I suppose," he commented, his apathy returning like a plague.
Ibara's mouth was ever so dry, like a desert around her tongue. She didn't have it in her to do anything other than stare at the boy beside her. She drew in a deep breath, holding it before letting her chest fall as the breath left her small body. She looked around, heaving herself to her feet, watching carefully as the boy did the same as her. "We'd better keep moving before we get shot down-" she commented, before stopping herself in the tracks. "If that's okay with you, Lance corporal," she added, unnecessarily bitter considering how nicely she'd just been cared for by Yuzuru.
But Yuzuru didn't have enough bark in him to be capable of biting back. He simply sighed, only mildly irritated about the lack of respect from someone who was below him. "Staggered file, Saegusa," he insisted, moving to take the lead in their little patrol of only two. "Stay behind me," he added, turning to face the girl. Something about his cold lavender gaze sent a shiver down Ibara's spine; the way it was so different from the sweet gaze full of worry seemed so impossible to her. "If one of us is to get shot and die out here, it's me," he explained, with a cold apathy that made Ibara have to swallow over the hard lump that grew in her throat as she thought about whatever must've been going on in his head.
———
Ibara pulled her arm away from the boy's grip, deciding that it wasn't worth her precious time to start a physical fight with a boy who no longer meant anything to her in this day and age and under these circumstances. She smiled a fake, snake-ish smile. "Well then, don't go and kill yourself, will you? Lest you wish for me to piss on your grave," she snapped back, a retaliation to the bitter comment that she would never admit actually may have touched a nerve which was still sore with the pain of her childhood. She chuckled to herself, blinking to at least try and get a better imagine of what was before her blurry eyes. But alas, nothing was visible more than the blob that was pale skin, dark blue hair and lavender eyes. With the lack of response given to her comment about pissing on Yuzuru's grave, Ibara rolled her blurred eyes, shrugging as if to prove that she didn't really care about whatever Yuzuru thought of her at that moment.
He was now no more than a simple butler for an overgrown child. He had to answer to Ibara now, in theory. She could make him do whatever she wanted as revenge for how he treated her all those years ago. Oh, how hilarious it was now. She could turn around a tell him to start doing pushups if she really wanted him to feel the way she felt whenever he told her to do so when she was a child, the same as him. But something within her halted that urge before it could make it's way down from her mind into her mouth, and she was sure that the thing stopping it was her heart- that would make sense. Well, it would've made sense, if she'd had a heart. Maybe she did have one at some point, but perhaps she lost it along the way, never to be found again.
———
The door opened with a click, but there was no usual greeting. Despite their supposed hatred for each other and their apparent enemy-like relationship, it had become commonplace for a greeting to be called out when one or the other entered their shared living space out of comradery for being the only children in the place. But alas, today was different. Today, hearts ached and tongues were tied, and hands were tied even tighter. Change was on the horizon, and that made Ibara feel a mix of emotions that she absolutely detested. Hatred. Sadness. Anger. Betrayal. Heartbroken. Anything like that. It all swirled around in her mind like a potion made as her own personal poison.
As Yuzuru walked into the silent living space, the only noise being the connection of his own boots against the wooden floorboards, Ibara didn't even turn around to look at him. Her eyes, already demaged beyond total repair, aided by glasses, stayed focused on the little "feature wall" as they had named it. Filled with drawings made by Yuzuru- it was quite clear the boy had a talent for art, Ibara was sure that with the right materials, he would make a wonderful artist- alongside Ibara's poor attempts to make anything close to the quality that Yuzuru had made, joined by a handful of photographs of the two of them. Despite how they were supposed to- and previously did- hate each other, they most certainly did make a fair few good memories with it each. It almost made all of the suffering they had to go through worth it.
Key word: almost.
"You're leaving?" she asked, voice barely even loud enough to be heard, marred with the excruciating agony of what she was experiencing inside her mind. She didn't even turn around, fearing that if she saw the boy, tears would spill over her eyelashes and she would cry and cry until she turned the entire camp they were in into a reservoir. A shaky breath spilled out of her lips, threatening to turn into sobs of anguish and grief as it did so. What a terrible fate to be subjected to: her only friend, taken away from her just as she started to get closer to and more comfortable around him. It was so unfair. "It's not fair," she voiced her complaints. "It's not fair," she repeated, voice cracking and breaking this time. "You can't leave me here alone," she insisted. "That's not a fair thing to do." There was no response. Perhaps Yuzuru didn't know what to say. Perhaps he didn't want to make the whole ordeal worse. Ibara turned around to face the boy, and just as she had expected, tears flowed freely down her cheeks without an end in sight. "I gave you my heart and this is how you repay me?" she questioned.
Yuzuru stood very still and very silent. He too looked rather upset. But how could he be upset? He was the one who got the right to freedom, he was the one escaping from this hellhole. It wasn't fair. The boy let out a sigh, shoulders dropping in defeat. He moved to sit down beside the girl, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him. "I know. And everyday, I'm grateful to have your heart," he reminded her. He looked down, and shifted a strand of magenta hair out of Ibara's face so that he could see her a little better. "I know you won't take it back, so I'll keep it with me, right next to my own heart. I won't let anyone hurt it," he promised.
"It's already hurt," she retaliated, sniffling as she wiped her eyes free of tears, only for the wetness to be replaced by another set of tears. She shifted where she sat, practically lying against Yuzuru. She let out a shaky sigh, trying desperately to remain as composed as she possibly could when her entire body was shaking like a leaf and there were already tears racing down her tanned, scarred skin.
Yuzuru's hug around her body tightened just a little, ensuring that she stayed as close to him as physically possible and that he could at least try to keep her a little calmer than she would've been had she been left to deal with the situation at hand on her own. "If your heart is broken, then I'll fix it," he insisted. "And perhaps, if you'd allow, I'd give you mine."
"I don't want yours!" she practically yelled. She pulled away from the hold, lip quivering as she tried desperately to stop the tears that flowed anyway, despite her attempts to keep whatever was left of her composure. "I don't want your heart when you're leaving me, I want you to stay with me!" she cried, fingers gripping onto the bottom of Yuzuru's shirt like a vice to try and expel some of her anger in some way or another. "Please don't leave me," she begged, chocked cries becoming no more than pitiful sobs. She threw herself forwards, head on the boy's shoulder, as she shook with great force as her sobs wracked her body.
Yuzuru didn't truly know exactly what to do in this kind of situation. It was easy for him to resolve physical issues, but emotional issues were a field he wasn't experienced in at all. He opted for wrapping one arm around the girl's back, and resting his other hand on her head in order to play with her hair gently. He let out a deep sigh, shoulders relaxing as he hugged Ibara. "I wish I didn't have to leave," he admitted. "It's selfish- to leave my designated life- but I wish to stay," he explained. "I wish to stay beside you," he confessed.
———
Ibara knew she shouldn't have come downstairs to the kitchen. She should've just stayed in bed contemplating her life. She should've just gone straight into working for the day. At the very least, she should've just remembered to pick up her glasses before coming downstairs. She shouldn't have let herself be in this kind of situation where she was so entirely vulnerable to her greatest enemy. She let out a deep sigh of pure annoyance, shoulders stiffening and jaw clenching and unclenching as she contemplated what she should do to get out of such an awful situation like the one she had found herself in. She could just up and leave and leave right at that very moment and return to her room and sleep away the embarrassment- or at least, she could until it came time her to go to work for the day, and then she would have to think about what happened all day without respite until it came time for her to go back to sleep tonight. And then she could repeat it all again the next morning, except with the possibility of remembering her glasses so she wouldn't end up in a situation like this one again. She dragged herself out of her own thoughts, deciding that it wasn't worth contemplating anymore; she should just go back to bed before it was too late. "Well then," she announced, straightening herself. "Farewell."
Before she could leave, Yuzuru held her back once again, holding onto her shirt like a vice. It was almost like he wanted her to stay at this point. Which was a stupid idea: they hated each other, why on earth would he ever want her to stay? "If its farewell then I have something to give to you," he insisted. He let go of the girl's shirt, and Ibara could just about decipher the rustling noise as being that which Yuzuru himself made. He pressed something into Ibara's hand, something soft and plush that could be squozen out of sheer anger and then return to it's natural form. Ibara pondered about it, trying to feeling its shape. Truth be told, in the blurred state of her vision, it just looked like a circle- as many things did to her- but her hands told her differently. After a few moments of being completely in the dark as to what this thing was, a hand lay on top of her own, smooth and gentle and delicate, guiding her hand to something. Her hand lay on top of the little thing, feeling the embroidery work that was engraved into it.
Ibara Saegusa's heart.
"I kept it close to my own, just as I promised," Yuzuru explained. He kept his hand steady over hers, cold skin chilling Ibara down to her bones. It was ironic to think about it really: how Yuzuru was so alike to a corpse when all he desired was his own death. How his rather thin body was so akin to a skeleton raised from the grave, how he often looked truly dead thanks to his hollow eyes and the perpetual tiredness and lack of light within them. It terrified Ibara, but she would never let him know. She'd never let it slip for, for the past few years, she had hoped- and maybe even prayed- that the boy was still alive and not dead in a ditch for her to discover far too late. No one would ever be allowed to know that about her.
"I don't want it," she rejected, voice quiet and subdued, far too quiet for the loud, militant persona that she claimed as her own. She shook her head, pushing the little plushie- seemingly handmade- back towards Yuzuru. "I have no need for it, I don't want it back," she insisted. She forced the plushie back into the boy's hand, beginning to slowly, ever so slowly, back away from him, trying ever so carefully not to bump into anything during her painstakingly long escape from her past which stood before her as if nothing had ever happened between them.
Yuzuru moved forwards in turn, reaching out to keep the girl from running away. "No, Ibara, don't say such absurd things," he insisted. He held her waist in his hands, holding her as close as physically possible. The fight against Yuzuru was weak and short-lived, Ibara not having the energy- or perhaps not having the desire- to run away from him. "Your heart doesn't belong to me anymore," he explained, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows in something almost like anguish. "You should take it back." He paused, mouth parted like he didn't have the confidence to say the words on the very tip of his tongue. "You should take it and give it to someone who won't betray you."
———
"It's cold," Ibara pointed out.
Poor Yuzuru knew far, far too well just how cold it was, given how he shivered and shivered with no end. The rain poured down through the leaves of trees they had found themselves settled in, and with each icy drop that hit the soft ground beneath them, Yuzuru quivered like the leaves above them. He sat, huddled beneath a combat jacket that was at least three sizes too big for him, with his far too thin sleeping bag laid over him like a blanket, underneath the poor shelter that the basha he and Ibara had been forced to share with each other offered them, and yet still he shivered like there was no tomorrow. Teeth chattered and the rifle that lay over his lap shook almost as much as he did, and Ibara could've punched something in annoyance for the amount of noise he made in the other almost silent forest. There was, of course, the quiet chatter of adults who were far more experienced and far more accustomed to sleeping out in the field compared to the poor children who had no choice in this life, but they were far away, and Yuzuru was close and making much more noise which disturbed her.
Ibara sighed, standing up from where she had been sat before when her head was sticking out into the rain just enough to feel a consistent drip on her nose. She shuffled closer to the boy, sitting behind him, so close that Ibara had to move her legs off to the side so that she didn't knee Yuzuru in the spine, although she did contemplate doing as much. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close as physically possible. If there was any fight against her hold, Ibara didn't know about it, for it was no different to the endless shivering the boy had engaged in. She let out a sigh, resting her warm cheek against the back of his neck. "You'll soon warm up," she reassured him. She lifted her cheek away from the cold skin momentarily, only to take off her glasses before returning to the comfortable position of resting against her companion's back. It was almost nice like this, as Yuzuru's shaking began to dissipate just a little. Had the two met under different circumstances and had Yuzuru been cold and in need of warming up, then it would've been nice to be like this. But unfortunately, life wasn't so kind to Saegusa Ibara, and so the circumstances weren't exactly preferable in her humble opinion. But still, perhaps she could make the most of what she was given and indulge herself in holding a very cold- and mildly, but only very slightly mildly, cute- boy in her arms to warm him up.
"Your cheeks are awful warm, are you okay? Do you have a fever?"
Ibara lifted her face away from Yuzuru, looking down at him with confusion. His hand reached to touch her cheek, just to confirm that her cheeks were concerningly warm. She really was warm. Despite the cold, she felt hot, just a tiny bit sweaty. "It must be because of the jacket, I am a naturally warm person anyway," she insisted. She cleared her throat, beginning to remove her combat jacket. She placed the jacket over Yuzuru's back, like another blanket to help keep him warm in the unfortunate circumstances. She let out a sigh, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging around her own knees instead of around the boy beside her. It definitely was not almost nice, she decided. She could feel the way her heart pounded against the cage of her chest over and over again, her cheeks were far too warm and far too red for it to be normal. She wasn't falling in love with the only other person her age that she knew, certainly not. Even if he was occasionally kind of nice to her, and even if her was an objectively handsome person, and even if he was definitely and totally Ibara's type, she didn't like him. It wasn't that kind of relationship, they were just forced into comradery due to their unfortunate circumstances. That was all.
Ibara hated Yuzuru. That was simply a fact of nature. No one in their right mind could ever deny it.
———
Ibara shook her head, unable to meet the boy's gaze. "Everyone has betrayed me at some point, and if they haven't, they most certainly will," she insisted. "There is no one who deserves to be given my heart." She attempted once again to push Yuzuru away from herself, to no avail. Curse her weak arms. She had almost forgotten about how strong Yuzuru was, despite his rather skinny frame. It was almost as if he had a secret store of power that he kept hidden from others and only used when necessary, like in a situation similar to this one.
Yuzuru kept his hold strong and steady, letting a small sigh escape from between his pale lips. "What about Jun?" he questioned, tone even and apathy riddled through his words. Ibara had no reply. What about Jun? He was basically Yuzuru but more abrasive, rougher around the edges, unrefined. Ibara didn't like unrefined people. So there wasn't really anything about Jun. "You seemed fairly comfortable enough with resting against Jun's shoulder, I would guess that you like him," Yuzuru insisted.
Ibara shook her head defensively. "There's nothing about Jun," she retorted, almost in disbelief that Yuzuru of all people could ever believe that Ibara liked Jun. "I only befriended Jun because his highness was amicable with him," she explained. She let out a sigh, licking her ever so dry lips in an attempt to rehydrate them to make explaining herself just that tiny bit easier. "I befriended him because he..." she paused, shaking her head, "he reminded me of you," she admitted. "When I took off my glasses, I really thought he looked like you. And part of him acted like you, not all the time, but on a few occasions, I could look at him and see a glimpse of you. It was like being able to get my childhood back."
Yuzuru stood completely still, dumbfounded by the girl's confession. To find himself in another person? That was an absurd idea. But then again, he did have some physical similarities to Jun, but not myriads of them. They both had short blue hair, that was the only major similarity between them. It was rather hard to believe in all honesty. "There is most certainly something about Jun. You're much friendlier with him than you ever were with me, there has to be something different about him," He insisted. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying ever so desperately to understand just how Ibara could insist that she only ever became amicable with someone because they reminded her of himself, especially when, as far as he knew, she hated his guts more than anything in the world.
Ibara merely shrugged her shoulders, unable to meet the boys confused gaze. "Maybe it's because he reached out to me first," she guessed. A deep sigh left her mouth as she pulled her hands up to her face to rub her skin in an attempt to uncloud her racing thoughts. "He wanted a hug once so I gave him one and ever since then, touch hasn't been an issue," she explained, almost nonchalantly. "I never got that with you. You always seemed shocked at the mere idea of the two of us ever touching," she added. A groan fell from between her lips as she threw her head back towards the ceiling in anguish. "I wanted to," she admitted.
Yuzuru let out the deep breath he didn't even realise he was holding. "I thought so," he admitted, voice quiet enough to border upon shy, in true Fushimi Yuzuru style. "You would take any small chance to warm me up or something like that," he recollected, a sorrowful smile playing upon his pale lips. He twisted his body to take a glance around at his surroundings: the ensemble square community kitchen, founded by funds that came straight from his own unit, and the girl he left behind so long ago.
———
He stood, silent, not daring to make any more noise than that of his own breath.
The girl before him had been crying non-stop for at least twenty-three minutes; Yuzuru had been trying to hold his breath for at least twenty-three minutes. She had gone through a toddler-like tantrum- picking up books and any small item and throwing them on the floor as she screamed and cried over her anguish. Yuzuru wasn't able to do anything other than stare at the ground in shame. At some point, Ibara had worn herself out, and instead collapsed to the floor, chocked through sobs and tears. Yuzuru felt awful; he was full of guilt and grief. He didn't know what to do, truthfully. He liked to think he always knew what to do, but always didn't usually include when his only friend was having a mental breakdown over something he'd caused.
Poor Yuzuru didn't know what to do with himself.
He decided to sit down next to the girl, ever so quietly, and leaned close to her, putting one arm around her body, and the his other arm followed. It was the best thing he knew how to do at that moment; Ibara had done it for him when he was cold and upset that he was cold, so perhaps it was the right time to do this? She was upset, so maybe it would stop her from being upset? He didn't know. He wasn't one for physical touch, but now seemed like the right time for a so called 'hug' that Ibara seemed to love so much and crave whenever she could get one. The girl shook so violently from her sobs that even Yuzuru could feel himself shifting against the floor as he held her.
And as if nothing had even happened in the first place, the crying stopped. The Earth fell silent. Ibara sat up, fixing her glasses on her nose, returning the hair she had gripped so tightly back to where it should've been. "It's whatever," she muttered. She sighed, sniffling to restrain the tears that had already fallen over the her line of eyelashes. She drew in a deep breath, wiping her teary, puffy, reddened eyes. "Your parents will be here to pick you up soon," she pointed out, voice still shaky as if more and more tears could stream down her cheeks at any moment. "You'd best be prepared," she added.
Yuzuru gave a weak smile, not really too sure what to do or what to say as a response. He could just guess what Ibara was imagining in her mind: Yuzuru's parents, joyous to be reunited with their precious boy, waiting like hounds before a hunt, to take him away to a land of dreams and an easy life ahead of him. He wished that was the case for him. It was a real shame that she couldn't even have that consolation, for Yuzuru knew what was truly waiting for him: stern faces, an atmosphere that questioned why he couldn't just stay in the military for the rest of his life, a life lived to serve someone else instead of doing whatever it was he wished to do. He tightened his arms around Ibara, resting his cheek against her shoulder. He was beginning to think that perhaps he was trying to comfort himself instead of her. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I stayed here forever," he retorted softly, almost as if he had been defeated by some kind of force that kept him subdued.
Yuzuru regretted his words immediately, given how Ibara's body racked with another set of sobs as another pool of tears raced down her tanned face and over the freckles that lay on her face. He rested his hand on her hair, trying his best in vain attempts to soothe her tears. But she only flinched away from the touch, a deep, shaky sigh falling out from between her lips. "You should just go," she insisted. "Live a life that both of us wanted and leave."
———
Ibara wrapped her arms around her own body, almost self-consciously. She pursed her lips in a thoughtful manner, eyebrows furrowing as she attempted to grapple her thoughts. Lips curled into an awkward smile for no more than a moment before her face became stone and cold. "Do you think it was obvious that I liked you back then?" she questioned.
Yuzuru simply shrugged. He wasn't excalty the best at understanding emotions at all, let alone other people's emotions and how they felt towards him. But then again, there was something that differentiated Ibara from Yuzuru's other peers. At first, he guessed it was due to the comradery that came with being the only people anywhere close to each other in age in that godforsaken place. Yet after a while, it seemed to run even deeper than that. Of course, Yuzuru punished Ibara and made her do pushups almost every single day, but then again, they did things that would typically done by friends. They ate together, they often slept in the same bed next to each other, they took care of each other's injuries, the list was endless. But unfortunately, life just wasn't kind enough to allow them to explore the idea of romance at all, let alone with each other. "I had reason to suspect," he confessed his answer, a small, almost tragic smile dancing upon his face.
Ibara nodded in acknowledgement. Of course he had reason to suspect: it was as obvious as apples growing on trees when she thought about it. She reached out, trying her best to grab the red blob that seemed to be her so-called 'heart'. Of course, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite reach it, it was always just out of her grasp. That was, until Yuzuru finally took pity on the poor girl and handed it over to her. It was awfully soft, almost like one of those plushies that her roommate was obsessed with. She couldn't help but squeeze it. "Did you make this yourself?" she asked, tilting her focus up to the boy's blurred face.
Yuzuru nodded. "I made it when I got home that day," he answered. He shifted where he stood, almost as if he had become uncomfortable with the situation. Or rather, almost as if remembering that time was melancholic for him, just as it was for Ibara. But a sigh escaped his lips as he stretched his arms behind his head awkwardly. "But that was a long time ago, when wounds still stung when pressed onto a little too hard," he added. "I suppose you couldn't care less for it now."
Ibara furrowed her eyebrows just a little more than usual. What an idiot Fushimi Yuzuru was. How stupid her most detested enemy was. "I could care for it a lot less- I should as well- but here we stand," she retaliated. She held the plush tightly, before extending her arm once again. "It's still yours," she insisted, standing almost as still as a corpse until Yuzuru finally took the little red thing away from her again. "You've kept it safe so far." A small smile played upon her lips, as if she were thinking of something that wasn't as horrific as her shared childhood with Yuzuru. "Whatever. I haven't needed it in a long time anyway, so you may as well have it," she insisted. "You certainly need it to deal with your young master," she joked, earning no more than a tiny, almost shy smile from the boy.
———
Ibara had been rushing around all day, trying so desperately to gather her bearings. With her being half way through her second year at Shueetsu Academy, she had finally come to begin preparing for the debut of her unit, Eden. It had been almost a year in the making, with a handful of setbacks due to Hiyori's bad temper with her supposedly trying to 'steal' his beloved Nagisa- whom Ibara, for the record, had zero interest in other than their abilities as an idol- and Jun being totally non-compliant for at least three months. But now things were shaping up for them. They had a live show booked in for a few month's time, with a new album for Eden, with a handful of songs for Eve and Adam specifically that Ibara had worked her ass off to complete. Of course, she had help: Hiyori was surprisingly good at choreography, and, even more surpringly, Jun was a good help for songwriting and social media relations- Ibara had often wondered where he learned it from.
She almost didn't think of back then anymore.
But Hiyori had totally stopped Ibara in her tracks of hard work to get everything for this new unit and live ready for the sake of call an emergency meeting, complaining about something to do with a new advancement from their enemies. Supposedly, fine had just introduced a new member to their ranks. Ibara couldn't lie, she was rather interested in this new development, considering fine was the biggest young idol unit, and so Eden would have to compete very hard against them, and since Hiyori and Nagisa both were historically a part of fine. It was interesting to see who Tenshouin Eichi had replaced Hiyori and Nagisa with. As Ibara finally reach the emergency meeting point, she was only met with the whiny complaints of Hiyori- she should've expected no more nor no less from the older idol.
"Ugh! This is so unfair!" Hiyori whined as Ibara finally entered through the door. "Such bad weather we're having today! What a horrific fate!" He gripped into his own hair, turning around in a storm when he noticed Ibara had finally showed up. "Look at this!" he yelled at her, pointing to the screen that was obviously playing fine's newest live with the addition of their newest member. "Look! Their new member looks so much like Jun! They're stealing my ideas left, right, and centre!" he continued his whining, turning back to Nagisa. "How dare he! Oh, Nagisa what do we do now? How do we make Tenshouin Eichi pay for his crimes of treason against me?"
But thankfully, Nagisa was forever Hiyori's voice of reason- just one thing to take off of Ibara's already far too full plate of work to do for the sake of Eden. "Fine's new member is far too unrememberable, surely Sazanami Jun will be the name people remember instead of him. He is so forgettable, I don't even know his name at all even though it's the current topic of idol conversation," they insisted gently, reach out to smooth out Hiyori's messed up hair.
Ibara paid little mind to Hiyori's whines and complaints, instead turning her attention to fine's newest live. Of course, there was Tenshouin Eichi, the leader, and his beloved little court jester, and the small pink thing that had been a part of fine since the beginning of this school year. But now, there was the new person. With short, dark blue hair and pale skin and lavender eyes that Ibara was sure she'd seen somewhere before. Oh, that was right. "Fushimi Yuzuru," she mused aloud, voice barely even audible to the rest of her not quite fully formed unit as she pondered about the boy aloud. She wandered closer to the screen, eyes fixed on this boy as if she were in a trance. "Poised and elegant with a shy voice but strong morals, the butler of the Himemiya family- his name is Fushimi Yuzuru," she repeated. She drew in a deep, rather shaky breath. "Fushimi will cause no trouble for us: he's far too quiet and timid to do anything that would jeopardise Eden. I'm sure he would even change his whole style to be different from Jun if we asked." A viperous smile stretched across her tanned face as she turned to face Hiyori. "If he does cause trouble, however, I will ensure he dies, Your Highness," she reassured. She chuckled just ever so slightly, as if to brush over the whole ordeal was nothing. She turned on her heel, desperate to get away from her own beloved unit. "Fine is no match for Eden, Fushimi Yuzuru makes no difference to that, rest assured," she insisted, before disappearing out into the corridor.
The moment the door closed behind her, she let out a deep, shaky breath. The hole in her chest where her heart used to be seemed so relieved to see that the boy from her childhood was alive and breathing, and his heart still beat the same blood he had tried so desperately to get rid of. But then again, her blood boiled at the thought that her most detested enemy had returned to haunt her career as an idol of Eden. How dare he have the nerve to show his face in Ibara's playing field once again. That was the most unfair thing about the whole ordeal. Ibara hadn't even made her debut as an idol yet, and here Yuzuru was to ruin it all for her! How inconsiderate of him!
The door clicked open behind her, and Ibara nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned around and saw the face of her blue-haired colleague. Ibara and Jun weren't exactly the closest of close: Ibara was closer with Nagisa, and Jun was closer with Hiyori, but there was some kind of comradery in the fact they were both second years instead of third years like their seniors. "Are you crying?" he questioned, almost as if he were in disbelief at what he was seeing. Perhaps he was as well: Ibara wasn't the kind of girl he'd ever assume would cry over something like that without reason.
Ibara laughed loudly, as if to mock Jun's words. "No," she denied it. "Why would I be crying? What do I even have to cry about?" she carried on her mocking. She lifted a hand up to her eyes just to confirm that she wasn't crying, yet when she did, her skin became damp. Her viper-like smile dissipated into a frown, eyebrows furrowing as she frantically tried to wipe her eyes free of the tears that plagued her like a rat infestation in an abandoned house. "I'm not crying, that'd be stupid!" she insisted.
Jun nodded, seemingly not believing the girl consider she was, in fact, crying her blue eyes out. "Do you know that guy?" he asked gently, almost as if edging around the wound that was ever so clearly left on Ibara from seeing the new addition to fine. She nodded in response, slowly and quietly, as if trying not to scare herself off into running and hiding from Jun forevermore. "How do you know him?" he carried on his questioning, shifting just a little closer to the girl, as if trying to see her reactions to things a little better.
She let out another shaky breath, trying to recompose herself after that little mishap of allowing herself to cry over something so small and trivial. "When I was at that military institution, so was he," she answered bluntly. She groaned, sniffling away the tears that threatened to fall once again. "But it's whatever," she insisted. "It's not like we were ever friends- he's always been my enemy, so this turn of events is rather fitting, really," she explained, laughing at the catharsis that she was once again pitted against her most detested enemy in a battle of strengths that Ibara was sure she excelled over him in.
Jun nodded in acknowledgement of Ibara's words. It was strange in his opinion, the way Ibara talked about that strange boy who looked an awful lot like himself, but he didn't really want to question it: that would be too much energy for Jun to waste that he wanted to keep for his own benefit. "Well, enjoy your rivalry, I hope it goes well for you," he commented, rather apathetic about the whole thing. He turned away from the girl, beginning to wander down the hallway as if he had not a trouble in the world.
How Ibara wished he wasn't so similar to her most detested enemy.
———
Yuzuru smiled in a thoughtful, somewhat morose kind of way. "The young master really is more draining than my old life: he has far too much energy for me to keep up with," he mused. His lips twisted a little as if thinking deeply. He sighed, finally turning away from Ibara and returning to preparing the meal he had been preparing before Ibara came and ruined his morning. The quiet, monotonous slicing of vegetables returned, and Ibara watched in silence, able to do no more than ponder about the morning she'd had so far. It was strange how much of the childhood she had hidden away in the very corners of her memories could return to her all because she accidentally rested her head against her most detested enemy whom she thought was her colleague. Who knew what cool happen upon her next interaction with the boy? She didn't want to think about that though: it was much too terrifying for her.
She let a sigh fall from in between her lips as she watched through blurry eyes as Yuzuru went about whatever it was that he was doing. She rested against the kitchen counter, looking- yet not really seeing- the elegant, calculated movements of her most detested enemy. She could just about make out that the orange blob was a carrot and the silver blob was a knife and Yuzuru was cutting up a carrot with practiced ease. "Did they teach you to cook when you got back home?" she questioned out of sheer, pure curiosity. It was strange, in her opinion, how despite all the shit she and Yuzuru went through and how much she absolutely hated him, she enjoyed the conversations she had with him. Yuzuru nodded his head with an affirmative hum, obviously trying to remained focused on the task at hand. "I still never learnt how to cook properly, I just about know how to cook enough to appease his Excellency," she explained, turning and shifting to rest her arms against the counter instead.
A small smile played on Yuzuru's lips. "Come here," he ushered, stopping what he was doing. He stretched his arm out towards Ibara, and she accepted the invitation, carefully slotting in between Yuzuru and the kitchen counter. "Hold this," He insisted, placing the handle of the knife he'd been using into her hand before placing his own hands on top of hers. And ever so slowly, he guided her hands to finish the task of what he'd been doing before. "Don't accidentally cut your fingers off," he warned, half joking, half serious.
Ibara chuckled ever so slightly, leaning back into Yuzuru's chest. "I trust you wouldn't do something like that when I'm in my most vulnerable state of blindness," she insisted, twisting her her head up to look at Yuzuru with the tiniest smile playing upon her lips.
Yuzuru returned the tiny smile, but stayed focused on the task at hand instead. "I won't, but if you distract me then we'll both lose our fingers," he warned, earning another small chuckle from Ibara.
Perhaps it wasn't an awful morning.