Work Text:
Kokichi was nervous, moving into the countryside and into a boarding school. It was… to be expected - with his statue, and lack of suitable governess (it wasn’t really his fault they couldn’t keep up with him). But that still didn’t mean he wanted to go. On the contrary, he was most certainly forced here. And now, staring up at his new ‘prestigious school’ he was certainly having to fake a smile.
Halting, the carriage was brought to a stop - and his butler opened the door, offering a hand for him. Taking it, Kokichi put his weight on them before elegantly leaping off and onto the ground, brushing off imaginary dust. Even if no-one was watching, it was always good to play the part. Going inside the carriage, Kazuko quickly emerged with most of his luggage. It was a valiant effort, considering how much Kokichi had ended up packing. Various books and attires had just ended up falling into his luggage, he swore.
At least Kokichi had arrived late Saturday afternoon; just late enough to miss lessons - and of course school wouldn’t be on on the Sunday. They had free reign of the estate, as he understood it. Or if he didn’t officially have it, he would have it anyway. Corporal punishment was only hard the first couple of times, and he doubted they would strictly discipline such upper-class boys.
He’d called himself an upper-class boy. Grimacing, Kokichi tried to distract himself from that horrid realisation and instead looked around. The boarding school was comprised of two buildings, one for rooms, and one for schooling, Both looked stately, with clean marble and well-polished, if well worn, steps. Everything certainly looked perfect, and the education was said to be very good. Not that Kokichi instinctively believed everyone who said that. Who would tell you they were in charge of a second-rate school, or were educated at one? Certainly not anyone who’d told him about it.
Fiddling with his buttons, Kokichi tried to stare while also appearing completely polite. He patiently watched as Kazuko disappeared into the second house (the dormitories, he assumed) and was left alone with the company of his horse. Not that Kokichi minded, it gave him time to reflect and calm his breathing. This school would be fine, and he would end up enjoying it. The lessons would be both adequate and entertaining, and perhaps he could finally put his language skills to good use. Wherever he was would be pretentious enough to have them speak Latin. Not that he could judge, when he was practically fluent in it.
Waiting, Kokichi counted the passing time. Thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes, three minutes. It was on the two hundred and fifty first second that movement suddenly stirred. Rushing from the house was a boy that looked around his age. Well, he looked older than Kokichi - but that was only because Kokichi looked young. Observing from a safe distance, Kokichi tried to take in the boy.
Green hair, not quite vibrant enough to be lime but still fairly pigmented and rather beautiful. It reminded Kokichi of spring, and of well-looked-after gardens. It was shorter than Kokichi’s hair, but not by too much - and there was still just enough of it to whip around wildly as he moved down the steps. As a particularly long strand fell across his face Kokichi was struck by the sudden urge to move it away for him. Although he stayed perfectly still, of course, just waiting for the person to come to him. And keeping up the smile when the boy moved his hair out of his face by himself.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the boy still seemed to be smiling, and he held out a hand, “I’m Rantaro Amami, nice to meet you.”
Kokichi took the hand instinctively, “I’m Kokichi Oma, and please; the pleasure is mine.”
Half-way through the handshake Rantaro’s eyes lit up, almost taking it as a challenge before winding down again, “Well, if you say so. I’m very sorry about being late, by the way - I was held up.”
For a second Kokichi considered being a pain, but decided against it, “So, you’re supposed to guide me around, right?”
“Yeah,” Rantaro responded, “Bla- I mean, I apologise for my informal language.”
“Hm, why?” Kokichi turned his head slightly, like he always did when he found something intriguing, “I don’t mind. Is this school like…. suuuper strict?”
“You can certainly say that,” Rantaro looked over his shoulder, before at the grounds, “So, where d’you want to begin?”
There was a moment of silence, before Rantaro cut in again, “I apologise again. I mean, where do you want to begin?”
“You being comfortable around me would probably be a good start, darling,” the faintest colour appeared on both of their cheeks, but while Rantaro’s spread more rapidly and stayed, Kokichi tried to force his down and maintain some form of composure. “And you can take me wherever.”
For some reason (he really wasn’t behaving normally around Rantaro) it took him a second to realise the implications, before he tacked on, “On the tour.”
“Of course,” Rantaro looked around, and Kokichi did a polite gaze away while the green-haired boy tried to get his blush under control, “I recommend the gardens.”
“Are you sure that wasn’t just the first place you looked at?”
“Hey- I actually really like the gardens!” Rantaro defended, having now turned around. Instead of embarrassment, his eyes were sparking - filled with passion and wonder, and determination. Kokichi could see himself in those green eyes, in a way, and he smiled internally - hoping he himself showed such promise and interest. On a topic he enjoyed, Rantaro continued talking, now walking towards what Kokichi assumed were the gardens.
“They’re really beautiful, you can tell the school puts expenses into them. They remind me of my travels, some of the more exotic plants - and the gardeners take good care of them, some of the plants look amazing - even if they’re ages away from their native homes, and have massive temperature differences. The abutilons, for example. They still have gorgeous shades of red, like they did in Brazil. Although I’m not sure why they pared them with sword ferns-”
Rantaro suddenly stopped, and Kokichi felt himself begin to frown before concealing it, “I am so sorry, I’ve been rambling.”
“Non non, it’s interesting.” Kokichi grinned, “Tell me more about the sword ferns!”
“It’s ok.” Rantaro insisted, “I’m just your tour guide, you don’t need to put up with me.”
“But what if I want to?” Kokichi asked, skipping ahead slightly to be in front of Rantaro, gazing up into his eyes with what he hoped was a winning smile. He was slightly self-conscious of the way he was blushing, but he kept the pose anyway, batting his eyelashes jokingly.
A light lit up in Rantaro’s eyes, and he smiled as well, “You’re really okay with me just… talking about plants?”
“Yup,” Kokichi resumed his normal walk, if coming slightly closer, “You seem pretty interesting.”
“Thank you,” Rantaro seemed slightly awkward accepting the compliment, before he picked up his train of thought, “Ah, yes. They’ve paired it with a few other plants from America, I think they’ve tried to make a theme, but they’ve put sword ferns and abutilons together. Which is fine, they look stunning, but they’re not geographically compatible. I mean, abutilons are normally from the southwest, but sword ferns are more from the north. Honestly, I’m more impressed with the gardeners keeping them healthy together. The climate’s so different…”
Kokichi could sense him trailing off, self-conscious again, so he jumped in, “You seem like you’re speaking from experience, have you been to America?”
“I have, actually. My father’s a wealthy merchant, so our family travels with him a lot.”
“Cool!” Kokichi tried to think of the possibilities, before asking a phrase in Japanese.
“I’m…” Rantaro looked a little lost for a second, before responding, “I only speak school-boy Latin.”
Kokichi shrugged, “It could be worse, you could speak no Latin.”
Rantaro looked thoughtful for a second, “I suppose I could. I assume you speak a lot of languages?”
“Latin, Greek, and Japanese,” Kokichi answered confidently, “Oh, and I have a secret fourth language you’ll have to guess!”
“Hmm… Italian?”
“Nope.”
“French?”
“Not that.”
“German?”
“You were closest with French.”
Rantaro ducked under a low hanging branch, leading Kokichi into the start of the gardens, “Closer linguistically or geographically?”
“I was basing it geographically.”
Rantaro and Kokichi walked for a bit in silence, one with concentration - and the other with a grin. Eventually, white Kokichi had stopped to admire some of the beautiful roses, he felt eyes on him again. Turning dramatically, he looked at Rantaro, “Have you figured out my fourth language?”
“I think,” Rantaro began slowly, “It’s Irish?”
Laughing dramatically, a playful glimmer came into Kokichi’s eyes. “Actually - it’s English.”
For a second, Rantaro’s eyes sparked with annoyance; but then he began to augh with Kokichi. More softly, but no less genuine. And for some reason, that made Kokichi’s smile even bigger, and his heart began to make noise too - it was beating faster, it was singing. The two fell into a comfortable silence before Kokichi spoke up again, “Can you still show me the… abuli…”
“The abutilons?” Rantaro offered, “It’s the garden directly opposite, actually.”
He pointed past a well-kept hedge, and Kokichi saw a hint of red flash out at him. Turning his head back to Rantaro, he didn’t even need to force a smile, “Take me there, pretty please?”
“Of course.”
Walking into the enclosed space, Kokichi had to admit it was beautiful. Even though the man was only a foot or so away, the space did remind Kokichi of Rantaro. It was beautiful, and magical - just incredible, all round. Kokichi was glad that this space existed. Looking around, Kokichi examined what he assumed were the abutilons - all in shades of gorgeous and vibrant reds, with large but still beautiful flowers.
Hearing Rantaro’s throat clearing, Kokichi spun around to look. It was a flower in Rantaro’s hand, one of the abutilons.
With a smile, Rantaro held out his offering, “For you.”