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If there was one thing Hitoya couldn't stand, it was a bully.
If there was a second thing he couldn't stand, it was a teacher who failed to spot bullying when it was going on right under their nose.
And he, himself, was no exception to that rule.
Hitoya was pissed, downright seething, at himself for taking so long to notice whatever was going on with Aohitsugi Samatoki and the oldest Yamada kid.
He'd been distantly aware of Ichiro since Ichiro was a first-year. Though Ichiro never wound up in his class, Hitoya was… somewhat acquainted, for lack of a better word, with the Yamada boys' father. So he'd known all three of them would be coming through his school, one after another.
But it wasn't until Samatoki landed in Hitoya's class as a second-year that Hitoya really started to take notice of Ichiro.
Ichiro was in Jakurai's class next door, but Hitoya saw him practically every day. Because practically every day, Ichiro dropped by at the start of lunch to deliver a homemade bento straight to Samatoki's desk. He never stayed to eat with Samatoki, always rushing off to some club activity, but kept coming around like it was his job.
It was almost unthinkable that a kid like Ichiro could be bullied. He looked like a tough guy, bursting with confidence. But the way Samatoki's buddies talked about him was too egregious for Hitoya to fully ignore.
"Where's the wifey?" one of the guys who sat near Samatoki would inevitably jeer, on the rare days Ichiro didn't make his usual lunch appearance.
"Better make sure he's not stepping out on you," another would joke. "Keep that leash on tight."
Samatoki would usually roll his eyes, maybe flip them off. He never exactly contributed to the jabs the other guys made, but neither did he leap to defend Ichiro like a good friend surely would.
And if they weren't good friends, just what the hell was going on between them?
Some of the girls in their year would talk, too. Hushed whispering in the hallways, about what a shame it was that Ichiro, with such a bright and promising future, had to run around acting like a servant to a delinquent like Samatoki. What a pity it was that this had been going on since middle school, with no signs of Samatoki ever backing off.
Even without trying to eavesdrop, Hitoya couldn't avoid overhearing them every now and then.
It was all a little concerning, to say the least, but Hitoya didn't actually do anything until he spotted Ichiro with one hell of a bruise high on his cheek one day.
"Yamada-kun." Hitoya caught Ichiro in the hall at the end of that day, nodding to an empty classroom. "Got a minute?"
"Huh? Sure, sensei."
"You're not in trouble," Hitoya reassured as they each took a seat, facing each other. Ichiro didn't seem all that worried to begin with, though. He was a good kid, probably never been in trouble with a teacher before.
He only looked a bit curious, a bit confused.
Hitoya figured it would be best to get straight to the point. "What's going on with you and Aohitsugi?"
Ichiro's eyes widened in an instant. He tensed, shoulders squaring, making it pretty damn obvious that there was something.
"Um…" Ichiro shifted, looking more nervous than Hitoya had ever seen him before. "Am I… obligated to tell you?"
"I would prefer if you did," Hitoya said, then sighed. "I get that it might not be the easiest thing to say out loud. But if you're being threatened, or blackmailed, or anything like that—just know you're not alone."
Ichiro's eyes went even wider, but it didn't look much like surprise now. Confusion, mostly. Like Hitoya had started speaking in tongues.
"Threatened," Ichiro echoed. "Blackmailed. By… Samatoki?"
Hitoya gave a solemn nod.
Which, after a beat of silence, got him a badly stifled snort of laughter.
"Um, Samatoki's not…" Ichiro sucked in his cheeks in an obvious attempt to contain another laugh. "What makes you think Samatoki's doing, uh, that sort of thing to me?"
Hitoya blinked. Had he… gotten the wrong idea somehow?
"He's not?"
Ichiro shook his head.
"So you bring him lunch every day because…"
"Lunch? Oh, that's because, uh, well." Ichiro ducked his head again, scrubbing one hand over his nape. "There's this saying, in English. Isn't there?"
Hitoya blinked again.
"The one about…" The corners of Ichiro's lips gave a sheepish little twitch. "The way to a man's heart, being through his stomach."
Oh.
Oh, fuck. Hitoya had gotten a tremendously wrong idea somehow.
"He… treats you well, then?"
Ichiro nodded, really smiling now, unable to hold it back. "Really well. Can I ask what made you think he doesn't?"
Hitoya sighed and scratched a hand through his own hair. He was pretty sure Ichiro would accept 'no' as an answer, but maybe he did owe the kid an explanation. "Just… the way he lets his punk friends talk about you."
"Oh, they're not his friends," Ichiro reassured. "You mean those guys in his class, right? Yeah, he hates their guts. He just bites his tongue when they talk shit because I made him swear not to get into any fights."
Hitoya must have looked as bewildered as he felt, because Ichiro continued, "He got in a lot of fights back in middle school. We both did, until he was almost expelled. I made him promise, then. No more fights, no more trouble. Couldn't stand the thought of not seeing him every day at school."
That… checked out. Samatoki did always look majorly peeved by the guys around him in class, even if he didn't tell them off for their off-color remarks.
Hitoya heaved another sigh. "And there's a perfectly innocent excuse for that bruise you've got?"
"Oh, this? This actually is Samatoki's fault." Ichiro laughed and shook his head when Hitoya tensed in alarm. "He dropped by the gym to meet me after basketball practice, but got there early. I kinda got distracted and, uh, took a basketball to the face."
Ah, young love.
Hitoya pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted the urge to sigh again. "Alright. My bad. Get out of here."
Ichiro stood with a polite bow of his head. He still looked like he was about to burst out laughing at any second, but was polite enough to not. He even stopped at the door and said, "Thank you, though. Me and Samatoki aren't… uh, what you thought. But it's good to know we've got teachers looking out for us, teachers who have our backs."
Hitoya almost wondered aloud how Rei had managed to raise such a fine young man, but refrained. This conversation was already awkward enough.
When he reached the door a few steps behind Ichiro, he almost wasn't surprised to see Samatoki waiting outside, in the otherwise deserted hallway.
"What the hell was that all about?" Samatoki was asking, as Ichiro drew close enough to bump their shoulders together in greeting.
Ichiro whispered something to him. The truth, probably, judging by the way Samatoki instantly snapped his head up to glare at Hitoya. Ichiro must have said something else to him, because it only took a few seconds for Samatoki's pissed off glower to turn into a smug little smirk.
Which then turned into an unreadable expression, as Samatoki grabbed Ichiro's tie in one hand and kissed him in a way that was not even remotely appropriate for a school setting, while slinging his other arm over Ichiro's shoulder to flip Hitoya the bird.
Hitoya could only shake his head and think, Fair enough.
Samatoki could have that one for free.