Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tropical mornings are delightful, Kazuichi has come to learn after a couple of weeks in this pseudo paradise; a digital retreat made only for them. He shouldn’t be surprised, not by anything churned out by the elite roster of Hope’s Peak students, but things just keep getting more outlandish. A completely virtual world always seemed like one of those far-out, futuristic fantasies, a kind of thing to be made hundreds upon hundreds of years from now, but he’d had no idea it was being brought to life right in the halls of his own high school. Just when he thinks he’s seen everything this place has to offer, something dreamlike and absurd is lurking around the corner. It frequently comes in the form of the prodigious inventor Miu, and he’s learnt quickly to discern her shadow from afar so that he might escape her bizarre and often frankly immoral plots.

That’s at least one of many reasons he’d been tentative about settling down into a comfortable rhythm in this place, but nothing has stood out to him as dangerous so far. For one of her endeavours, the place is abnormally PG-13, no doubt being strictly maintained as such by fellow contributors to the project. He’d half-expected some lewd easter eggs hidden around the place, coconuts shaped like tits or whatever erotic freakishness she’s known for, but there’s nothing. He’s not trying to bat for hypocrisy here, he’s well aware of his own perversities, but he’s really quite relieved. After all, now he’s seeing for himself what his commissioned work has led to. He hadn’t had much of a choice, having been strong-armed into cobbling together a few bits of hardware, but if the reward is such a relaxing, pacific paradise, things can’t get much fairer than that.

The temperature is perfect, especially in the mornings. His rhythm of living has settled, prompting him to routinely arise a few minutes before his alarm goes off, and the sunlight streaming through the blinds is the very definition of peaceful. Not too hot, not too cold, not even too bright- he’s not sure how that can be, but it’s like this very world is tailored not only to be realistic, but to cater to the comfort and needs of the students inside it. It’s fantastic. Miu should start focusing on more of this, and stop making such wild contributions to the sex-shop arms race that’s starting to break out between the science and health and social departments.

The languid mood of the morning is a good time to indulge himself in an unusual comfort. It’s nothing special, but sitting out on the front doorstep of his cottage in his bare feet is a small pleasure. It reminds him of home, being parked out on the outside shop floor with his tools and tinkering with whatever is within arms reach. No need to go anywhere, no need to talk to anyone, just peace, quiet and time on his hands. It’s like heaven on earth for him, and he considers looting bits of the supermarket and airport for spare parts to drag back to his nest. Hell, since the weather is so temperate today, he could even do it in the park or on the beach.

It’s his perfect idea of personal responsibility. Nothing to do but to decide what will make him happiest today, and it’s got an appeal that lasts for about five seconds when the leisurely scenery surrounding his cottage is disturbed. He suspects by the hurried footsteps that it could be Akane or perhaps Ibuki, both far too energetic for their own good, but colour him surprised, it’s neither. It’s actually Gundham.

The first word to fly into his head is ‘asshole’ so he buttons his lip and stares pointedly in the other direction as he waits for the walking eccentricity to pass. Curiously, he doesn’t. He stops with a sharp skid just a few feet away, and when he remains eerily still for longer than is comfortable, Kazuichi is forced to acknowledge him. He bares his teeth at the other boy, hoping that might be enough to scare him off, but who is he kidding? He couldn’t scare off a butterfly. His mood is rendered tepid, and he thinks now is as good a time as any to go and get some breakfast, but before he can scramble back indoors, he’s addressed rather informally.

“You.”

Kazuichi leans back with a frown. He blinks, taking in what little detail of Gundham’s form he can perceive when it’s eclipsed by the sun. Resting back on his hands, he gives a lazy nod.

“What?”

“I suppose you’ll have to do.”

Kazuichi snorts. Not with that attitude he won't. It’s a sour start to a conversation, and Kazuichi is petty enough to let it play out for his own amusement. He won’t be doing any favours, but he’ll humour Gundham at the very least. His head lolls to one side as he then mutters, “What the hell are you talking about now?”

There’s a distinct quirk to Gundham’s pale lips, drawn in as he’s mulling over his options. Something needs to be done, he’s strained in his decisiveness, but since he’s landed upon Kazuichi with such conviction, he’s got no other choice. His chest expands with the deep breath he takes, and when he exhales, it’s the stupidest thing Kazuichi has ever heard.

“My door is gone.”

Kazuichi stares. “Y’what?”

“I said, mortal-with-no-ears, my door is gone! As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m going to require your expertise.”

Gundham folds his arms impatiently, but there’s a distinct quivering of his fingers tapping against his arm that reveals a sensitive nerve. He’s seriously frayed thin here, but Kazuichi is still trying to wrap his head around the crux of the matter. He wants to laugh right in his face, but the shuddering anxious energy seeping through Gundham’s body paints a picture of a punch to the back of the head.

“I heard you just fine the first time, I just don’t understand what the hell you mean. Your...door is gone? What door?”

Gundham’s arms go slack, his jaw, too, in disbelief, and he gesticulates with wild intent for a moment as words fail him. He looks torn between storming off and throttling Kazuichi, but eventually he just falls still. With his fingers, he brushes back some of the stray strands of hair at the top of his forehead. The clearing of his throat is of gentle, rumbling exasperation.

“The entrance to my abode. The front door is gone. I awoke this morning to find it had disappeared- don’t ask me where for I do not know! If I did, I wouldn’t be here now.”

Slowly, Kazuichi leans to one side to peer further down the row of cottages beside him, and if he squints hard enough, he can see the front of Gundham’s cottage is looking a little different. Where he supposes the door would be is just darkness, made difficult to see from the awkward angle he’s sitting at. His eyes flit back up to meet Gundham, who is growing more irate by the second, and understandably so.

“...what the hell?” Kazuichi snorts, breaking out into perplexed laughter. “Was it still there when you went to sleep?”

Gritting his teeth, Gundham snaps, “Do you take me for some kind of fool?! Of course, it was! I take care in assuring my door is locked during the night, for the sake of the safety of my four Devas of Destruc—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kazuichi waves him off with a dismissive click of the tongue. “Dark lords, devastation and all that shit. I got it. So, you woke up and it was gone. What, did you piss someone off? And why do you need my help? Surely, you can fix a door by yourself, it’s not rocket science.”

Flexing his fingers, Gundham huffs and replies, “There is no mortal in this otherworldly paradise who would dare commit such treachery towards someone with my capabilities. Doing so would be nothing short of a death sentence! And when I discover the foul perpetrator behind this deed, their fate shall be sealed!”

“Dude, it’s a fucking door, chill out,” Kazuichi sighs, pulling himself up to his feet and dusting the patches of sand off his backside. “Get some hinges, some screws and a drill, and you’re good to go. Y’don’t need me to babysit you for this one, man.”

Poor choice of words, he comes to understand, as Gundham begins to seethe visibly. Though pale in his complexion, when his face heats up, instead of glowing a rosy-red colour, it burns a very faint shade of purple. It’s startling to see up close because he looks more like he’s suffocating than simmering with rage. Kazuichi takes a tentative step back, hoping that Gundham doesn’t decide to close the distance.

“Alright, alright,” Kazuichi stammers, hoping to cut Gundham off before he can launch into a violent rant about his demonic status and his lack of desire to be ‘babysat’. Kazuichi doesn’t believe a word of his delusions of grandeur, but he’s also not keen to find out what the ninth circle of hell looks like. For now, he’ll wisely hedge his bets and avoid angering a boy who is considerably bigger than he is. “L-let’s...start there then. The supermarket will have everything you need. It’s really not much at all.”

“I’m well aware,” Gundham sighs, tugging at the hem of his scarf. For a moment, Kazuichi thinks he’ll bite back again, but instead, he murmurs, “I...am unfamiliar with your mortal infrastructure. I would not wish my powers to cause undue devastation upon your dwellings through my lack of knowledge.”

So, the guy doesn’t know how to fix a door. Go figure. Still, the guy isn’t a complete moron, as much as it pains him to admit, so Kazuichi doesn’t know why he can’t just work it out on his own. Spurred by his curiosity, Kazuichi can’t help but probe a little.

“Have you never built, like, a hutch or anything? Or a hen-house?”

“I have, but I was well-equipped for the task, and bestowed the sacred texts necessary to aid me.”

Ah. He had instructions. Well, it’s surface-level Ikea knowledge, but Kazuichi feels like the guy should really have a few more trade skills under his belt. He’s no good at concealing his thoughts, so his face radiates his opinion quite honestly. As if wounded by such a response, Gundham tugs the hem of his scarf over his chin and mumbles, “...there were a lot of hinges at the supermarket, and I was unsure of which ones to get.”

“Alright, well, I s’pose I can help you find the ones you’re looking for. Though, really, we should probably prioritise finding the door itself. No point buying hinges if there’s nothing to attach ‘em to,” Kazuichi sighs, tugging his beanie down over the back of his head. It’s not what he’d planned to do with his day, and not really something he’d normally waste time on, but...well, there’s something a little funny about the situation. How the hell does someone lose a door? He’s pretty keen to find out, but there’s one other thing on his mind too.

“Could you not find anyone else to help you? I mean, I think I’m a bit overqualified for this case,” he says, following up with an immodest laugh that elicits a twitch from his companion.

“You weren’t my first choice,” Gundham tells him sternly. “Hajime is busy at this moment in time.”

Kazuichi squints at him, hoping the guy might take the hint that if he keeps chatting like that, he’ll be getting no help at all. Sadly, Gundham isn’t the kind of guy to take a hint with ease. A hint might have better luck bashing him over the head than suggesting itself with any subtlety, which is pertinent, because any more than two minutes spent talking to Gundham makes it an incredibly tempting course of action.

“Hajime,” Kazuichi grunts, a little miffed at being designated a second choice to him. Not that Hajime is a bad guy by any stretch of the margin, but Gundham could’ve aimed a little higher. Nidai isn’t such a bad choice, Kazuichi wouldn’t hate being his back-up, or even Peko, but it’s not brightening his current situation regardless. He feels like he’s sort of agreed to this already, so backing out now would just be poor form.

“Whatever,” he shrugs indifferently. “Let’s find your door. It can’t have gotten far, it’s not exactly mobile.”

Gundham suddenly shakes his head, wild in his impatience. “It’s futile. I have spent all morning searching for it, but to no avail. Every turn yields disappointment.”

“Have you asked anybody about it?”

“I have made many attempts, but it seems today is a rather busy day for all. Those I have spoken to have seen nothing. I was unable to locate the others,” Gundham replies, regretful in his tone. He stares down hard at the floor, and the way he chews his lip makes him look a little hurt. Guess nobody could spare the time to help him out. Whilst Kazuichi can’t really find fault in the others, a missing door is pretty big. It’s not like losing a necklace, it’s a lot of privacy at stake.

“So, you looked everywhere,” Kazuichi mutters, tapping a finger to his chin. “Somehow, I don’t think we’re gonna find whole doors at the supermarket. We’re gonna have to get one from somewhere else.”

“Sourcing a door is no easy task,” Gundham reminds him with unease. “I somehow doubt Usami will take kindly to us removing one from somewhere else. I might’ve suggested somewhere like the beach house.”

“Oh, you got a point, actually,” Kazuichi sighs, pocketing his hands and urging Gundham to start walking with him. At the very least, they can start by getting some supplies. “I mean, I don’t think the beach house will really miss a door, it’s not like you can get changed in there anyway, but this leaves us with another problem.”

“What?”

“Well, if we take a door from somewhere else, then we’ve gotta work out the door handle; getting the latch to fit, working a deadbolt on it, you might have to fuck around with the door-frame itself, which is a complete ballache. I mean, we can try that if we don’t find anything else, but it’ll be a pain in your ass for sure.”

“I’d rather a pain in my ass now than sleeping with the door open later,” Gundham retorts stiffly. “Wild animals might have no presence on these isles, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the Devas will be safe out in the open.”

It’s a weird little hook in his reasoning that catches Kazuichi suddenly. Their walk to the supermarket is leisurely despite the creeping, uncomfortable circumstances, and Kazuichi knows that Gundham is fierce in his privacy, intentional in his isolation and aggressively verbal about it too, but he seems more concerned for the wellbeing of his hamsters than his own, and sleeping with the door open is practically an invitation to someone like Teruteru or Ibuki. It comes as no real surprise, his ultimate status revolves entirely around the welfare of animals, but seeing it in passing like this makes him seem more responsible than he'd have anyone believe.

“You want we should get a lock for your hamster cage, too?” Kazuichi shoots him a sly smile, his jab hanging limply in the air like a bad joke. He half-expects Gundham to heavily stress the importance of the situation, but instead, he really seems to consider it. The cogs turning in his head is indicative of way too much thought being applied to a throwaway joke, and Kazuichi politely attempts to hide his exasperation.

“Perhaps,” Gundham then hums, fixated quite heavily on the ground in front of him as they walk. His preoccupation with staring down at his feet doesn’t go unnoticed by Kazuichi. “Some animals are known to escape their cages if the safety measures aren’t secure enough. The Devas are trained to obey my every command, so there is no risk of them breaking free of their nightly confinement, but even so…”

“Erm,” Kazuichi coughs awkwardly into his hand. “Better safe than sorry, right? Though, I’m sure in a place like this, they’ll be fine. I mean, is it any different from how you do things at home? I wouldn’t be surprised if you built some kind of...I dunno, some maximum security animal facility in your—”

“I keep my demon beasts suitably contained,” Gundham cuts him off with an indignant hiss. “I do not cut corners nor do I overcompensate for their safety. Their homes are exactly how they should be. Being kept in the wrong environment is a huge factor for stress. I’m simply considering this because I do not wish other people to intrude and bother them whilst I’m asleep.”

“...gotcha,” is all Kazuichi can say. The guy really cannot take a joke, not that Kazuichi’s jokes are total winners in the first place. Everything seems to fly right over his head, and against the niggling of Kazuichi’s own empathy, it’s really starting to piss him off. Being caught in an awkward silence like this is unbearable, so he’s happy to let his mouth run at least until they get to the supermarket.

“So, you got lots of anim--….demon beasts at home, or what?”

Gundham clicks his tongue with obvious distaste; fuck Kazuichi for trying to make an effort, the mechanic thinks darkly. Nevertheless, always at ease conversing about his passion, Gundham doesn’t deny him the answer to his question.

“The beasts I am bound to are not all contained within my earthly abode.”

“Okay, and what’s that in dumb mortal language?”

This is met with a sigh, which Kazuichi thinks he’ll be hearing a lot of throughout the day. Gundham is very lucky that the mystery behind his missing door is so compelling, or Kazuichi would be turning on his heel and stalking back to his cottage in minutes. He’s tempted to dangle that fact in front of the guy in order to get a little normalcy out of him, but there’s no way that’ll happen. He’ll probably just get yelled at.

“...the animals I care for do not all live in my home,” Gundham repeats thickly. “It is simply a fraction of them.”

“Oh,” is the lame reply. The confusion warrants further explanation, or at least in Gundham’s eyes it does.

“My home is not built for the company of certain animals,” he begins. “It houses a dog, a cat, the Devas too, obviously, but the rest are split between conservation centres and...well, the unyielding darkness of the woods.”

The air conditioning unit planted above the supermarket doors sends a cool chill over the backs of their necks as they arrive at the store. There’s nobody else in sight, and the sounds of the soles of their shoes squeaking against the linoleum fills the otherwise silent building. Kazuichi emits a heavy huff, not impressed by what he’s hearing, but intrigued nonetheless.

“The woods? Just straight up out in the wild? Can you even call that a pet?”

“I don’t call any of them ‘pets’,” Gundham grumbles from somewhere under the fabric of his scarf, hesitantly allowing Kazuichi take the lead in their quest to source supplies for his predicament. “But...yes, I keep an eye on a warren of rabbits, though I don’t tend to intervene personally in their business. I also have a pact with a bear—”

“Sorry, did you just say a bear? You have a bear as a pet?”

Clearly, his earlier statement has fallen on deaf ears, but being met with Kazuichi’s wide and slightly frightened eyes, Gundham thinks it’s easier for them both to just humour him. Funnily enough, he doesn’t know that the same resignation is being applied to him, too.

“Sure.”

“I...I don’t think you can do that, dude. Keep a bear as a pet, I mean…”

Without missing a beat, Gundham’s firm reply is, “And, who’s going to stop me?”

Kazuichi simply hisses through his teeth, an indication of his own clear stupidity because what else could he have expected from such an anomaly as Gundham? The guy probably thinks the police are just a suggestive force, and the laws exist purely as guidelines. Kazuichi would love to live a life so indifferent to rules and regulations, but he’s not looking to get arrested and/or mauled by a dangerous animal. All he can do is shrug, finding himself a comfortable place in the hardware aisle of the supermarket.

“I dunno, man,” he mumbles, attention suitably stretched between the conversation at hand and the packets of metal hinges he’s sifting through. “I feel like the police would have somethin’ to say about that. I didn’t think you’d get bears out in this part of the country though, wild or not…”

Gundham might be rolling his eyes right about now, the prominent silence following Kazuichi’s words would suggest something of the sort, but his tone is plain when he speaks again. “Don’t be so foolish. The bear is well cared for in a facility catered to its needs. Many species of bear native to this country are endangered, so it’s vital to keep them safe. My feud with the law is on stable terms currently. The sacred archangel has willed it so. There shall be no more bloodshed.”

There’s not a lot in the world that can pull Kazuichi’s attention from the solace of his passion for the mechanical, but this is something that draws his eyes very quickly, wide and unblinking as he looks up at Gundham in disbelief.

“...what do you mean ‘currently’? That feels like a lot more words than it’s necessary to say that you’re not in trouble with the cops.” He tries to ignore the use of the word ‘bloodshed’, hoping that it’s simply an enormous exaggeration on Gundham’s part. Still, with this guy, there’s really no telling…

Gundham clams up rather quickly after that point, mumbling to himself about the exhausting ordeal of conversing with a mortal. For a minute, Kazuichi thinks this is probably more interesting than the door fiasco, and as he methodically goes over every word he remembers hearing, his incredulity grows; around it forms an open-mouthed smile that’s reserved for only the stupidest of endeavours.

“Are you saying you got into beef with the police and your ma had to come and talk you down?” He’s giggling before he can even get the words out, and every spluttered snicker just adds to Gundham’s ire. The way he folds his arms now reads less like merciful overlord and more like petulant four year-old.

“I-it’s not like that!” Gundham reasons rather poorly, the strain in his voice betraying his attempt to deflect. “My duty to the beasts is absolute, come hell or high water! No amount of law enforcement will come between me and my work!”

“But I bet your ma’s a different story, huh?” Kazuichi grins, snagging a packet of hinges from the racks without even looking at it, concrete in the confidence of his choice. “What does a guy like you even do to get in trouble with the fuzz? I’ll bet it was that bear, wasn’t it?”

“It was not! I had simply aided a defenceless creature in its bid for freedom.”

“You...what, did you let an animal loose somewhere? Were you at the zoo?”

“I...relocated someone’s dog.”

Relocated read ‘stole’. Kazuichi’s eyes bulge. The packet of hinges almost slip from his fingers, something he then quickly stows away safely in his pocket. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Of all the stupid things-- surely, Gundham would be against something like that? Before he can lay a slew of derogatory remarks upon the other boy, Gundham cuts him off with a tetchy addition.

“And, before you say anything, the dog was living in a heinous household, and I was six.”

A valid justification, though not enough to alter Kazuichi's lacking opinion of him. It’s still a dumb idea, and Gundham is still certifiably a dumbass in his eyes, but he supposes the intention was good. What a weird way to get tangled up with the police. He wonders if the law enforcement local to Gundham’s area are particular keen-eyed when it comes to him and his overlordly antics.

“Pfft, it’s better than what I could do,” Kazuichi shrugs a little too honestly. Punk as he may attempt to be, his emulation failing at almost every step, he’s pretty agreeable when it comes to the law. “I mostly just got chewed out for doing stupid shit at school. No way I could tangle with the cops, my dad would beat the shit out of me.”

Though he says it with a laugh, Gundham recoils slightly, his eyes just about visible peering over the hem of his scarf, flickering with discomfort. Kazuichi’s lingering chuckle dies so horribly in the air that he’s embarrassed by himself, and he clears his throat to make a rectification.

“Erm, it’s not...don’t worry about that,” he says lightly. “He’s not...it’s whatever, you know?”

Gundham doesn’t attest openly to knowing so, leaving the conversation bathed in suffocating silence. Kazuichi clicks his tongue with the indication that they should probably get going, his eyes darting everywhere but Gundham in an attempt to salvage the interaction. Oh, hey, night-vision goggles are half price. Well, everything is free around here, so it doesn’t really matter.

Eventually, he sighs. “I got tools in my cottage, I’ll lend you those. Now, about a door… Even a few bits of driftwood would be better than nothing, but I doubt stuff like that washes up on a digital shore.”

“I...suppose not.”

“I mean, if you really wanted to put the work in, I don’t think there’s much stopping us from, like, chopping down a tree. A lot of these palm trees are pretty straight, actually…”

“I’d rather not do that. Few as they are, there are still birds here.”

He’s really not making it easy, but it’s not as much a drain on Kazuichi’s patience as he’d expected. The challenge is alright, but he's very much going out of his way to help a guy he doesn’t even like. There’s really nothing in it for him but the sweet satisfaction of a job well done, but if Sonia isn’t around to be impressed, is there any point?

So, they can’t chop wood, and stealing a door from somewhere else doesn’t seem wise. What else is flat and light enough to use as a door?

“Hey, what about a surfboard?” Kazuichi pipes up, bright in his declaration. “I mean, it might not be airtight, but the island is so warm that I don’t think it’ll matter much! Could put two together, hinge ‘em to the door-frame, job’s a good’un. It’ll stop people peeking into your cottage, that’s for damn sure.”

Gundham still looks unsure, but it’s a lost cause now because Kazuichi can feel his imagination running wild at the thought of it. It’s not as technical a job as he’d prefer, his hands itching to fiddle with a variety of little bits that could come together to great one marvellous machine, but it’s something new to try. After all, every little mechanical endeavour ultimately stacks more skill and practice upon what he’s already got, and that is the point of this school trip. Usami shouldn’t have room to complain, he’s exercising his skill as an ultimate perfectly. Then, after work is done, he can finally get an answer to what the hell actually happened.

Snapping his fingers, Kazuichi interrupts Gundham and grins, “I’ve got it! Two surfboards-- let’s see, can’t be too hard to cut them...sticking them together, well, you can’t weld ‘em, so maybe an adhesive will be good enough? It’s all temporary anyway, we’ll be back at school before you know it. We’ve got hinges, and...yeah, there’s stuff for a door handle here! The door-frame already has the parts it needs...so long as I just...yeah, I can make it work!”

To Gundham, it’s just incomprehensible babbling, but there’s a distinct light of hope in Kazuichi’s eyes which tells him he’s probably in safe hands. Against his better judgement, his much better judgement, he allows Kazuichi to ramble on for a little while longer. So long as his door is fixed by the end of it and he can sleep soundly knowing no harm will befall his hamsters, he doesn’t care.

“If you can do it, then do it,” Gundham finally tells him. “But if it fails, know that I will blame you for it.”

Oh, he is just a treat. Kazuichi, in that moment, wants nothing more than to throw the hinges right into his stupid face and storm out of the supermarket in a huff. What kind of response is that to a guy who’s trying to help? He might just be the ultimate poster child of self-sabotage, but in a moment of unusual self-awareness, Kazuichi thinks Gundham’s got him beat.

“Yeah, real nice thing to say to someone trying to help, dickhead,” Kazuichi snaps, deciding to be resolute in his intention of helping. Sonia might not be here to see it, but she’ll be around to see the finished product alright, and when the job is done, maybe he can wrangle some proper recognition out of this idiot. For the first time in his life, spite is spurring his work instead of hindering it.

Gundham doesn’t respond. His disinterested gaze flits away, occupied by a shelf full of gardening tools and weedkiller. If he’s going to poison the conversation with his pomposity, the least he can do is give a real answer. It’s just layers of irritation with this one. Kazuichi’s lesser imagination compares him to an onion made of shit. It just keeps going and keeps getting worse, and at the very end, what's on the outside turned out to be what's on the inside as well.

Storming past him, making quite sure to bash shoulders, Kazuichi spits, “You’re carrying the surfboards back. I’m gonna go get my tools. Meet me back at your cottage if you want a new door.”

Before Gundham can make any attempt at a retort, civil or not, Kazuichi is gone, and all that remains of his presence is the lingering shift of the automatic doors, indicative of someone’s movement.

Chapter Text

Kazuichi doesn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting, but they’d both made it. Him, with as many tools as he thought appropriate, stuffed haphazardly into a tatty, old duffel bag, and Gundham, perching wordlessly next to his cottage with two big surfboards propped up against the open doorway. Kazuichi dumps the bag unceremoniously onto the floor and shoves his hands into his pockets, tossing the things he’d brought from the supermarket down alongside them.

“The job’s a piece of piss,” he begins sharply, just stopping short of a snarl. “Cut the sides off of each board, stick ‘em together, hinges on one side, bore hole for the door handle on the other, then put everything together. Sound good?”

Gundham can’t really respond with much weight behind his opinion, so he settles for a meagre shrug. He’s less chatty now, and he waits stoically for Kazuichi to initiate their plan. Kazuichi wastes no time, having worked himself into a frustrated simmer by arguing with himself in his head about Gundham whilst he’d been stomping back to his cottage. It’s nice to fantasise winning a debate, but even in his own mind he can’t catch a break.

“Guess we can do it right here,” Kazuichi mutters, sifting through the contents of his bag. He then procures an electric circular saw, holding it aloft with some pride. Glancing up at Gundham, he adds, “You should probably put your hamsters somewhere else. It’s gonna get noisy.”

Gundham bristles at the Devas being addressed so informally, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, “I’ve already taken care of that. The Dark Queen will watch over them for now…”

Of course, he’s roped Sonia into helping him. The very thought of it pisses Kazuichi off so much that he has to remind himself that nothing good will come from throwing a circular saw onto the ground. He erupts into a huff, blowing a stray, pink hair out of his face before muttering, “Pfft. Y’know, you shouldn’t be getting a princess to babysit your pets for you. Don’t you think she deserves a little better than that?”

Gundham’s eyes narrow. “She offered.”

“Keh, maybe she can help you find your lost door,” Kazuichi mumbles, pulling one of the surfboards so it lays flat on the wider part of the decking. Gundham reels back visibly, pulling his scarf down so his words aren’t muffled.

“Unwise words for a lowly mortal like you,” he snaps back. He’s not exactly being the bigger man here, but he feels he has some right to a defence. Just because Kazuichi is offering to help doesn’t mean he has the right to act like a jackass. For a guy who claims to like her so much, his words aren’t very in her favour.

Kazuichi just snorts. “Yep,” he replies under his breath. “Lowly mortal, that’s me. Having such scum of the earth do your labour for you doesn’t make you look very good though, does it? You know, I normally get paid for stuff like this…”

“I didn’t suspect it would be such a problem for you,” Gundham spits darkly. “I’m certainly not forcing you to do this. If it puts me in your debt, then forget about it. My time here is limited, I can replicate your services to a passable standard.”

Kazuichi pauses just for a moment, having found a socket for the circular saw, and he really could just throw his shit down and yell ‘fuck it’ as loud as he cares to. In fact, he thinks he should do that. He thinks he wants to do that...or, he thinks he should want to do that.

But he doesn’t, for whatever reason. To be somebody’s creditor, that’s never really been why he does this, and it’s certainly not what he’s here for in Gundham’s case. He doesn’t need a guy like Gundham in his pocket; what would that even amount to? He loves his work, or on most days he does, and the reward of a solved mystery and a satisfied customer is what’s driven him to this point, but purpose has always been a little bit of a hazy subject. He’s not sure he wants either of those things, but they don't present themselves as deterrents. Maybe, like always, he just wants something to do with his hands. The best distraction. When the going gets tough, his hands get moving, and he realises he’s swallowing something rather bitter down. The sensation becomes uncanny, and it feels like having his father looming over him.

What’s worse is that if Gundham can do this work, then he’s not much use, is he? And, he thinks if Gundham can do it, then really, anyone can, and that would give him even less purpose. For a prodigious mechanic, broad as his skill-set is, he doesn’t stand out at all in a crowd full of Ultimates. He’d imagine the range would bestow a bit of limelight onto him, but it never has.

Without another word, he turns on the circular saw, mentally binning every safety practice he’s come to learn, and gets to work on the surfboard.

The noise is nice. It’s useful. It’s good at drowning all manners of things out. Barking dogs, yelling kids, fighting parents- he can just pick up a saw, and everything else fades into the background. Awkward silences, words that don’t want to be said; he’s cut clean through this conversation, and he hopes things will stay tepid until his job is done. What will he get out of it? He really doesn’t care at this point. He’d say it’s the principle of the thing, but he doesn’t even know what the principle is in the first place. His hands begin to burn with satisfaction, as if to tell him he’s made the right choice.

He half-expects Gundham to just walk away and leave him to it, or maybe find a new solution on his own, but he doesn’t. He remains fixated in place, watching Kazuichi do his work. Something about his gaze is less overbearing, and the inclination to bite Kazuichi's head off seems to have disappeared. He props himself up comfortably in the corner and exerts his patience. Nice as it is to have come to this silent agreement, Kazuichi isn’t sure he likes being watched whilst he works.

“It won’t be long,” he mumbles sullenly as he flicks the saw off for a moment. “But, it won’t be short either. You should...go check on your hamsters.”

“Hm? Gundham tilts his head. “And, why do you care about their wellbeing suddenly?”

Alright, fine. God, it’s like middle school all over again. It’s like home every single day. He makes one misstep, and then everything past that is like falling down a set of stairs. Judgemental. He can’t win. His temper bubbles so consistently, hoping to one day make a worthy eruption, but he’s not got the fortitude for it. What ends up escaping is a half-arsed whinge about the things that prickle at him, things he can’t figure out, and because it lacks all rhyme and reason, it only ever results in the ire of himself and everyone around him.

Kazuichi swallows. Sitting at a table and having his dad yell at him about homework is more bearable than this, and at least then he gets to cry about it. He’s not even got anything reasonable to get upset over either, other than his own...ineptitude? His penchant for the infuriatingly arbitrary? He won't spare the time to get self-deprecating about that right now. He’s ever-blessed with the excuse of work to be done, but frankly, if he sheds a tear in front of Gundham, he might as well kill himself. It’s already a social death sentence. He’s looked down on enough, he doesn’t need to add to the list of reasons. The last thing he wants to be doing Gundham is a favour, he thinks, whilst quite literally doing him a favour.

The onset of misery is incredibly quick for Kazuichi Souda, and he realises it’s only been about an hour since his day began. What an impressive feat. It's a talent in its own right.

He carries on working silently, bitter thoughts drifting aimlessly and without purpose, as he gets both surfboards cut down to an appropriate size. They might be large, but the material they’re made out of is pretty easy to get through, so it doesn’t take him too long. Gundham watches him all the while, his features obscured partially by the thick scarf he insists on wearing, even in this beautiful climate.

Eventually, Kazuichi sits back on his heels and looks down at the adhesive he’s picked out for the occasion. It should work well enough, but the boards are still cumbersome, so the thought of having to carefully stick them together without any support to help is a motivation-killer. He’ll do it, but he won’t deny himself the complaint of how troublesome it is. On the inside, he’s gearing up to carry on, emulating in his head the best course of action. On the outside, he looks perplexed, and a little bit like he’s slacking.

Gruffly, out of nowhere, Gundham suddenly asks, “Do you need assistance?”

“I’m-- I’m fine!” Kazuichi coughs bitterly, pulling his hat from his head and tossing it aside. “I don’t need your help, I can manage it myself.” It’s an unnecessarily terse reply, and even he knows Gundham’s polite offer doesn’t warrant such a blunt reaction. He’s already regretting it, feeling like a bit of a prick himself, but he doubles down and buttons his lip, opening the adhesive with a dull glaze over his eyes.

The faint waft of chemicals is something of an unusual comfort, and if only to pretend to justify his own attitude, he decides that Gundham wouldn’t want to get involved in a task so messy. Kazuichi isn’t afraid to get elbow-deep in the thick of it, and the more he decides that Gundham would be better off not bothering with mucky work, the closer he gets to nearly grasping the bizarre parallel that pairs Gundham and Sonia together so nicely. Maybe, the dream of a commoner marrying a princess is too far-fetched after all.

However, to his uncertainty, Gundham wordlessly crouches down beside him and begins to help align the other half of the surfboard. Kazuichi is almost tempted to spitefully splatter them both in adhesive, but he’s too taken by Gundham’s sudden change of heart, if that is what he can consider it to be…

“This might get a bit messy, y’know,” Kazuichi warns, hoping the guy might take a princely step back and leave him to it. “I doubt you’d wanna get your…fucking-- I dunno, mortal form, or whatever, covered in crap like this. Aren’t you some, like, prince of darkness, or some shit?”

He begins to mumble as he trails off, not really having any idea of where he’s going with it, but when his response garners no outburst of rage, he throws a hesitant glance upwards. Gundham doesn’t look the slightest bit angry, but he’s got a fierce squint as he inspects Kazuichi’s face like he’s some sort of undiscovered species. He looks baffled, and for the first time to Kazuichi’s ears, his voice sounds overwhelmingly normal.

“Do...do you know what it is I do?” Gundham asks quietly, fearing that Kazuichi might genuinely have never figured it out for himself. Is their relationship already based on such a huge misunderstanding? Or, is Kazuichi being a denser idiot than normal?

“Huh?”

“...you know I work with creatures from all realms, yes? Not exactly famed for their personal hygiene rituals in this industriously sanitised modern age,” Gundham reminds him, feeling perhaps a little patronised by Kazuichi’s assumption. However, where his tone would normally border on dangerous, threatened by an unwanted opinion, it’s more curious than anything else.

“Oh,” Kazuichi says sheepishly. “I guess...yeah, I kinda forgot about...that. It’s just you, erm…”

“I, what?”

“Well, you don’t really seem like the kind of guy who would want to do work like that! Don’t you, like, value your appearance?”

Gundham would like to cut back that he does, and far more than Kazuichi clearly, as he pauses to eye the stained overalls and scuffed shoes he’s wearing. It’s no surprise that a guy who’s only world exists within the confines of a small bicycle shop wouldn’t understand the nuance, but something about it doesn’t fill Gundham with the usual exasperation. After all, he likens Kazuichi’s existence to that of a caged zoo animal, and it’s always been in his nature to have a little patience for skittish creatures. He may not like him necessarily, but his behaviour isn’t so unfamiliar.

“Nobody ever really wants to do the filthy parts of the job,” Gundham tells him stoically, all the while aiding him in securing the two surfboards together. “But, when you’re caring for...creatures, you don’t cut corners. Their lives are more important than personal appearance, so if I’m actually working, I tend not to...address those concerns.”

Kazuichi squints at him. It’s the most normal-sounding thing he’s ever heard this guy say, and after remembering how long they’ve known each other, that’s one hell of a feat. Even more bizarrely, when seemingly forced into speaking like a normal human being, Gundham’s articulation is very slow. It’s like he’s really thinking about what he’s trying to say. Is he that unadjusted to speaking casually?

“So, not afraid to muck out at the end of the day, then? I guess I should’ve expected that. It just...I dunno, somehow, it doesn’t seem very like you.” Not that Kazuichi’s got any place to make that decision, but Gundham’s clearly put a lot of work into the way people perceive him. Whether or not it’s working in his favour is a different story.

“Hmph. You should know the facade I maintain for mortal eyes is not the same one I adopt within my personal boundary,” he replies, albeit a little awkwardly. Does it physically pain him to not talk like a pretentious jackass? At least this slew of vocabulary isn’t too difficult for Kazuichi to understand.

“Yeah, I get it,” Kazuichi murmurs with resigned but genuine understanding. “You don’t act at school how you act at home. I mean, who does, right? That’s all the shit you wanna keep a secret so...so people don’t think you’re, like, pathetic.” He then laughs, even though none of his memories of his past school life are remotely funny. The surfboards are definitely done by now, but neither of them move.

Gundham doesn’t say anything. He seems a little caught in the conversation, and his thoughtful silence is as it was earlier in the supermarket. Kazuichi might not be the brightest bulb, but at the very least he can see where he’s put his foot in it. Maybe the guy is just sensitive to things like this. It wouldn’t surprise him. He seems like a walking target for juvenile abuse, and that’s unfair on its own, but Kazuichi doesn’t think Gundham is doing himself any favours with this ‘prince of darkness’ shtick.

Eventually, before Kazuichi can waft away the awkward silence, Gundham tells him, “You seem like any other mortal in my eyes. I can’t see what is so unique about you that could warrant such attention.” He finishes that thought with an uncertain clearing of the throat, his eyes pointedly trained on where his own hands are gripping the newly-constructed door.

Kazuichi just blinks, a little taken aback by any kind of initiative exerted by Gundham in the direction of personal interaction. He might be a bit stunted in social situations, but even he can see right through it. What’s wrapped around a blasé insult is a sliver of sympathy. An odd encouragement. Kazuichi huffs with a humourless smile.

“Y’don’t have to be unique for kids to rip the piss out of you. If anything, I was...actually kinda the opposite. Back in middle school, I guess you could say I was always that quiet, nerdy kid. No friends, alright grades, the kind of face other kids wanted to shove down a toilet. Man, I even had glasses. Completely unordinary, yet somehow...still a huge target.”

Gundham frowns for a moment, leaning back to sit on his heels, and he stares down hard at what’s going to pretend to be a door for the foreseeable future. “So, then, you decided the best course of action to deter your foes was...to dye your hair bright pink?” He’s not even trying to hide how stupid of an idea he thinks it is, but Kazuichi knows he has him beat here.

“Oh, dude, it worked. Dyed my hair, ditched my glasses, got my teeth done, and just like that, everyone backed off. I mean, I ended up getting a bit of attention from the punk crowd, but they didn’t really bother me much. Hard to believe they’re a safer bet than your average classmates. My dad said I looked like a dickhead, but I stopped getting shit from everyone else, so I didn’t give a crap.”

At this, Gundham emits a nonchalant sigh, folding his arms as he begins to explain, “Appearance is a frequent defence utilised by countless creatures within this realm. Many reptiles and amphibians will develop bright colours as a warning to other animals to keep their distance, lest they succumb to their venom. Simply put, if you appear dangerous, that’s often enough to keep others at bay. I suppose it’s no real surprise that this worked out in your case.”

Kazuichi leans back on his hands as he musters a grin. “Exactly. The wilder you look, the scarier people will think you are! Then they won’t even bother. I’d rather that than actually pickin’ a fight with them like dad suggested.”

Gundham tilts his head to one side, reminiscent of a curious cat. His usual glare is replaced by this uncharacteristic consideration, and he replies, “Well, yes, but the opposite is just as effective. Many animals rely on camouflage to conceal themselves from danger instead of standing out as a threat in the first place. The eastern brown snake is one of the most venomous snakes on earth, yet it’s appearance is incredibly unremarkable.”

“Yeah, but it’s super venomous, and...I’m not. Concealing myself never worked, and if someone stepped on me by accident, I’m just gonna get trodden on. I can’t bite back,” Kazuichi replies glumly. “Maybe if I was strong enough to actually fight back then I wouldn’t have changed my appearance the way I did, y’know?”

“Your point is valid.”

The surfboard sits between them, and whilst Kazuichi swats away the dusty residue from the circular saw, he begins to feel around for the other tools in his bag. There's not much left for Gundham to help with, but since they’re on the subject, he thinks he won’t let the conversation go to waste. Trading blows. If he’s gonna dish out some information, he’d better get some back.

“So, is that what happened to you too?”

Gundham doesn't blink, shuffling back to sit up against the open door-frame of his cottage, allowing Kazuichi to carry on working alone. “What?”

“I mean, you dress totally mental too, is that ‘cos you were trying to scare some people off, or...?”

Very sharply, the response that cuts him off is, “I’ve always dressed like this.”

The finality of it hangs awkwardly in the air, giving Kazuichi very little to work with. After having had a minute and a half of normal conversation, he’s reminded that they’re not really on the friendliest of terms. Still, it’s curious in its own right. Gundham having dressed this way from the beginning? He finds that hard to believe, and his lack of belief seems to stem from an earnest hope on Gundham’s behalf. A plea to not let that be true. It sounds far-fetched, but unfortunately not out of the realm of possibility.

“Cool,” Kazuichi replies loosely. “Never seen a goth toddler before. That your ma’s influence, then?”

From behind his scarf, all that can be seen is Gundham's slight squint, where he’s baring his teeth bemusedly at Kazuichi’s bizarre notion. Gruffly, he informs Kazuichi in no uncertain terms, “My existence spans more than a mortal lifetime. From the very depths of the underworld, I crawled here to be a visitor in this plane of existence. What you would consider a childhood for me was simply a moment's rest. A period to collect my strength so that I may be able to carry out my deeds here in this world. It is nothing but a blink of an eye compared to the time I’ve spent traversing this existence.”

“Fucking fascinating, dude,” Kazuichi sighs, shaking his head, and feeling secure in the knowledge that Gundham’s speech was just a wordier way of saying ‘obviously, I wasn’t born like this’. “The Buddha’s got nothin’ on you, has he?”

Gundham just scoffs because of course he does. What a fucking weirdo. There’s no other way that Kazuichi can describe him. It’s chuunibyou on such catastrophic levels that he’s actually starting to consider this might be a lifelong divergence from common behaviour rather than a phase. Where he’s getting this stuff from? His parents? Is he doing it just for fun, or is he trying to stifle some awful past by masquerading as a greater force in order to bolster his own self-esteem?

Kazuichi suddenly chokes on his own spit for a second, realising that not only is that likely true, but it rings so closely to his own experiences that he gets a flash of an idea of what could’ve happened had he become the kind of guy Gundham has grown into today. He feels like he’s dodged a cringe bullet. Dying his hair bright pink doesn’t seem like such a poor course of action now. Not when he could’ve potentially become third demon from the left in the fifth circle of hell. Just thinking about it is making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Man,” he mutters under his breath. “Being you sounds exhausting. Makes me glad to be a lowly human.”

Alright, maybe he’d peppered that phrase with a little more venom that he’d meant to, fashioning it into a makeshift jab at Gundham’s self-declared identity, but even just listening to the guy is tiring. Feeling like he’s aged three years in this last half an hour alone, Kazuichi prepares the drill, but just before he turns it on, Gundham’s simmering voice just about reaches his ears.

“Hmph. Of course, you’d say that. You’ve got no drive to transcend to such a level. A humble mortal is most befitting of you…”

Every time Kazuichi feels like he’s being just a little bit too much of a dick, Gundham is always there to level out the playing field with alarming tenacity. Is he hell-bent on evening out the score like that? Or, does being a prick just come this naturally to him? For him to talk about drive, it’s enough to make Kazuichi’s blood boil. His hands so often burn with the fire of extended effort that he won’t take being snubbed so lightly. However, withered by the crumbling of his own ego over the course of one morning, all he can do is erupt with honesty.

“I’m fucking tired, dude!” he whines, and quite loudly.

“And, you think I’m not?”

Just as quickly as he’d said it, Gundham shrinks back into his scarf, tugging it up over his nose and clearing his throat rather roughly, as if to pretend his words had merely been a coincidental cough. His eyes dart away to linger over the furniture in his cottage with telltale speed. Looks like his mouth had jumped in before his brain could stop it. It’s blatantly an unwanted slip of the tongue on Gundham’s part, but Kazuichi wonders why it’s worth stifling in the first place if it's true.

Wisely, and with a little more forethought than usual, Kazuichi decides he’s going to mull over his response whilst he’s working with the drill. A good cacophony of construction should clear out all the unnecessary thoughts in his head, but it’s alarming how silent things feel between them both with such a racket going on.

In no time at all, the surfboard is gifted the necessary holes to make itself a comfy home in the doorway of Gundham’s cottage. All the hard labour is done, so all that’s left is the fiddly bits, which Kazuichi thinks is his favourite part. The dust of working with the tools soon settles, and after the noise of the drill fades away into the peaceful, tropical ambience, Kazuichi speaks again.

“There’s nothing wrong with a humble existence.”

He’s not sure where that’s come from. He’d expected himself to comment something derogatory regarding Gundham’s behaviour, or to try to coax something out of him through a bit of light interrogation, so he’s just as surprised as Gundham is when what escapes him is a sentiment he’s never really thought about before. He won’t retract it though. It may be unexpected, but it’s not wrong.

He waits patiently for Gundham’s answer, hoping it’ll never come, and that maybe the entire day will fade away into silence. Maybe then, he’ll be spared from derision and ridicule. What a thing to say in the world they’re living in. An ultimate student advocating for a simple life? It’s like a unicorn trying to blend into a herd of horses. They’re here to hone their exceptional skills, and Gundham’s raw, undeniable passion for his work puts Kazuichi’s entire existence to shame. Kazuichi awaits that familiar sinking feeling of being scolded for being inept, but is sated instead by something unusually comforting.

“I...never said that.”

Kazuichi very nearly looks up, but catches himself at the last minute. He begins to brush the leftover dust from the surfboard as slowly as he can, a desire to prolong this moment shining through for reasons he doesn’t know. He pointedly says nothing with the intention of spurring Gundham to continue talking. After a long pause, he’s granted his wish, and it’s so much more serene than he could’ve imagined.

“A...a normal existence was never my fate. Even from early on, I knew life would never be as simple as I’d hoped,” Gundham admits quietly. “I differ...so wildly in all aspects of my existence. Whether I wish it or not, I’m made to stand out. So, if...that’s my destiny, I may as well put...as much into it as I can.”

Kazuichi swallows as he listens intently to every word, like he’s afraid to lose them in the passing breeze. When Gundham’s voice slowly dies, his thoughts made clearer than ever before, Kazuichi can’t help but mumble, “Do you ever wish things could just be normal?”

A prominent silence stands out between them, exerting such an elegant pressure that it transforms their usual hostility into something sombre and understanding. When a reply doesn’t reach Kazuichi’s ears, he shyly glances up through the bright, magenta locks of his hair and spies an expression that paints something so detailed. In amongst the ambiguity, an unspoken question is posed to him that is as much of an answer as he could’ve hoped for.

On this common ground we stand on, do you wish for normalcy? Because your answer will match mine.

Chapter Text

“There! All done.”

It’s obviously out of place, but the surfboard actually fits quite nicely into the gaping hole peering into Gundham’s cottage. The hinges worked a treat, the doorhandle is a little wobbly but still very much useable, and it functions basically as it’s supposed to. Sure, there were a few hiccups and some liberal applications of duct tape, but he’s not getting paid for this as far as he’s aware. Kazuichi gives it a testy swing.

“So, it won’t be the strongest thing in world. Be careful with it, don’t go slammin’ it hard or chucking shit against it, but other than that, go wild. I even added another lock for a bit more security.”

Security is a strong word, Gundham thinks, noting that the lock in question is built like something you’d find in a toilet cubicle and not a house. At the very least, it’ll provide him with a few more seconds to prepare himself were somebody to come crashing through in the middle of the night. Not hugely relaxing, but it’s better than nothing.

“I see,” is his curt acknowledgement. “This is...appreciated.”

Kazuichi really wants to laugh. The guy can’t even squeeze out a real thank-you, it’s all dressed-up in some cumbersome, verbal bullshit, but it’s easy to see what he’s trying to say. In any other case, this might’ve drawn Kazuichi’s ire, but right now it’s simply comedic. Maybe he’s too hungry to dredge up a temper. Judging by the blazing sun overhead, it must be approaching midday, and he hasn’t even had breakfast yet.

The end of work is heralded by a sigh, and Kazuichi slings his bag of tools over his shoulder and pockets his hands with a comfortable expression on his face. Hard work like that is as good as any massage in his eyes, and he feels loose and warm as the rushing of his blood begins to die down. He runs his thumb habitually over the callouses on his palms, and murmurs, “Man, I should really get some food in me, I skipped out on breakfast. I’m gonna drop these tools back at my cottage and then...hmm, the diner sounds pretty good. Teruteru’s cooking is great, but I could go for a really crappy burger right now.”

He flashes a wild grin, his mood soaring at the thought of sating his growing appetite. As he gives the makeshift door one last inspection, Gundham mutters from over his shoulder, “Mm. That...should be my next course of action.”

“Hm? Oh, I guess if you were looking for your door all morning, you probably didn’t have time to eat either, huh?” Kazuichi runs a hand under his hat to scratch at the base of his neck, pulling a face like he’s not paying attention to the conversation. Then, for reasons beyond even him, he offers, “Guess you could come with me if you wanted. I dunno where your door got to, but you should probably eat something before you start looking again. If you pass out, Usami’s gonna give us all a lecture on good eating habits or some bullshit like that.”

He says that not as a prediction, but as a warning. They’ve done this before, no thanks to Nagito and his wandering curiosity, that when at its strongest, blocks out all signals from his own stomach. That had been a two hour lesson on dietary habits and nutrition, and all delivered in that patronising baby-talk she’s got such an inclination for. When he hadn’t been devising the most adept way to kill himself with a desk and chair, Kazuichi had spent that entire lecture wondering if there’s some nearby preschool they can fob her off on, and inspecting the huge patches of sand covering Nagito’s body from where he’d passed out on the beach.

Though his offer isn’t hugely tempting, it seems the mere mention of Usami’s deeply unwarranted lessons is having some sort of post-traumatic boredom effect on Gundham, who is staring thousands of yards into the distance with a lightly growling stomach. He rubs at the feeling roughly to dispel the discomfort, and replies, “Perhaps that would be wise. If I’m forced to sit through such banality ever again, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

Kazuichi emits a hiss of a laugh, “Ditto.”

The bag of tools are lazily dumped just inside the front door of Kazuichi’s cottage, and the boring trek out to the second island begins. Despite their shared destination, their pace becomes uneven and unmatched, trooping along like they’re not travelling together. Every now and then, they’ll share a few words, but it’s nothing of any great significance. The weather’s warm out today. There’s a seagull over there. Mikan’s fallen over, but I really don’t want to go over and help her. Hey, check out that cloud! Nothing special, but passing the time adequately. At one point, Gundham disappears for a few minutes to retrieve his hamsters, but Kazuichi can’t quite bring himself to go and meet Sonia face-to-face whilst his ego is still battered. The journey ends in a rather sullen silence.

Curiously, though it’s right around lunchtime, the diner is completely empty. The only sounds to be heard when they open the door is the fizz and mumbling of a radio tucked away in the corner, and the gentle hum of working machines from the kitchen. A peaceful, cool retreat compared to the stifling sunshine they’ve just stepped out from, and Kazuichi makes a beeline for a booth right at the back. Gundham is forced to follow him purely through social convention because turning up to the same place after having employed Kazuichi for his own matters, only to sit on the other side of the restaurant, would be too impolite even for him.

It also stands to reason that Kazuichi has completed a job for him, which even if they are students on this island, that effort still deserves some sort of payment. He’s aware of how he’d rejected Kazuichi on the basis of it at the beginning, but mortals are mortals, and unpaid labour is poor form. Gundham has some principles, awkward and arbitrary as they often are. Since they’re still together, perhaps it’s better to ask now.

“It would be unbecoming of me not to pay you for your services,” Gundham tells him stiffly, unfolding his arms so that he can rest his hands on the table. A gentle scurrying disturbs the fabric of his scarf, suggesting that the Devas are getting a bit hungry, too. “Providing it’s realistic, what is your desire?”

A bizarre way to ask about naming a price, but Kazuichi has heard worse from less. He begins to drum his fingers on the table, pursing his lips in thought. There’s not really a system of currency on this island, so if he asked for money it would have to wait until the school trip is over. On top of that, there’s the matter of the door- he’s really curious, but that’ll come to light sooner or later anyway. When phrased this way, there’s really not much he actually wants. Not anything that Gundham would be willing give him.

He leans forward and pulls his hat from his head, running his fingers through the crispy, over-dyed locks of hair swept back over the top of his scalp. “Erm. Well, can you just leave it with me for a bit? Maybe you could just owe me a favour in the future, how about that?”

Gundham raises what would be an eyebrow if he had any, uncertainty clearly bubbling on his lips, but when he opens his mouth it becomes a languid agreement. “You wish to make a temporary pact? Hm. Fine. Just this once, I will allow you to seal a contract with me. However, there are limitations to what power I can lend you. Remember that well.”

“Is that right?” Kazuichi rests his chin on his hands, his smile massively disbelieving.

“I will not be made your slave,” Gundham replies sharply. “Nor will the Four Dark Devas of Destruction. You only have one contract with me, so I suggest you use it wisely.” Popping up at the mere mention of their overcomplicated title, the hamsters all perk up one by one, finding themselves a comfortable perch on Gundham’s shoulder. Though their eyes are small and beady, their dark gazes seem to bore uncomfortably through Kazuichi’s very being, much to his anxiety.

“Also,” Gundham adds quietly, with the very bare beginnings of a pout tugging at his pale cheeks. “Don’t ask me to do anything stupid. I’ll just refuse.”

Kazuichi slumps back in his seat, exhaustion radiating from his expression despite the fact he’s had little to say since they arrived here. “Some favour this is, it’s a chore in itself! Nothing too simple, nothing stupid-- what about illegal?”

Slowly, and with some suspicion, Gundham thickly mutters, “It depends.”

“Steal another dog.”

“Hell no,” Gundham growls, fishing around in his coat pocket for something crinkly; he then procures a packet of sunflower seeds. The Devas all rally together with excitement, eager to be fed as they circle Gundham’s hands with large, sparkling eyes. Feeding hamsters looks rather fun, but his contrasting tone of voice is dismal and dark. “You would be wise to refrain from referencing my past endeavours,” he warns, “lest you incur my wrath, and I have a dangerously short fuse. Not to mention, illegal as that is, that still falls very much under the category of stupid.”

Kazuichi just breaks into a grin, “Dude, chill, I wasn’t gonna ask you to do that for real. I was just kidding. Nah, I’d have to think about it. Maybe if I need help with a project or something, you could be an extra pair of hands.” It’s a reasonable enough suggestion, perhaps not as glamorous as Kazuichi would hope if he’s only being given one sacred favour from the almighty idiot himself, but what can he do? To be honest, if he wanted to use the favour right now, he’d ask Gundham to head into the kitchen and fire up the grill because service is painfully slow around here.

Right as the thought crosses his mind, something he finds eerie given their digital environment, Usami makes a hurried dash for their table from behind the tall counter that spans the length of the diner. Bringing a feeling that she’s appeared from nowhere, she skids to a halt, and is so much shorter than the table that the two boys have to lean over to get a good look at her.

“H-hi there!” Usami greets, alarmingly out of breath for a robot. “You two must be hungry! What would you like to eat today?” She’s carrying a tiny, little notepad and a bright pink sparkly pencil with a stupid clump of magenta fluff glued to the top of it. Respect to her, she’s very uniform in her tacky tastes, but Kazuichi would much prefer a seared steak over seared eyeballs. He blinks the pain away, rubbing at his eyelids with a tired grunt.

“You’re about as good a waitress as you are a teacher,” he grumbles under his breath with the realisation of how long they’ve been waiting for in this entirely empty diner. “Uh, I’ll have a burger. Lots of cheese. No tomato.”

Usami wibbles quietly, her knees gently shaking with the routine decimation of her self-confidence, and her stammering follow-up is, “O-oh, of course, of course! And, um…Gundham?”

“...vegetable gyoza.”

Just a step above outright cowering in fear, Usami recites the order to herself and begins to toddle back behind the counter to fulfil their request. Having her for a self-proclaimed teacher is bizarre enough, but her cropping up to fill in the roles of all necessary staff around the island is even stranger. She means well, but her incompetence is astounding. Once she disappears, the atmosphere returns to something a little more comfortable.

“Gyoza, huh?” Kazuichi leans over the table to rest his head on his folded arms, a position that might send him to sleep if he’s not careful. “Y’know, this is a pretty western-looking diner. Doesn’t it make you want to eat something else?”

“Like what?”

Gundham is gently pouring out a handful of sunflower seeds, and they’re all being neatly divided up between the four hamsters, some more aggressive in their search for food than others. With a fondness in his eye, he holds out a sunflower seed for the rotund Cham-P to take, having been pushed to the back by the rest. The fat hamster takes it with a kind of grace that could be described as grateful, before nibbling it to pieces to store within its cheeks.

“I dunno,” Kazuichi shrugs with nonchalance. “Stuff you wouldn’t normally get to eat at home? I mean, western food ain’t so uncommon, but I think we still do it pretty differently here.”

In their case, it’s a bit of a futile point seeing as Teruteru is so often around to cook them dishes from all over the place, and exactly how they’re meant to be, even down to regional differences and variation country-by-country. It’s fascinating, but it’s not really a naturally-occurring opportunity given their prestigious environment. Kazuichi finds himself a little overwhelmed by the abundance of variety. Sometimes, it’s nice to stumble into something and see what you can get. A way to sate a mundane sense of adventure.

“I have...no desire to do such a thing,” Gundham tells him, pocketing the packet of sunflower seeds once more. “My own sense of taste has been worn away over years of consuming the inedible. To survive in this hellish apocalypse, often you must eat whatever is there. Whether good or bad, you must do what you have to in order to sustain yourself. I will not soon forget those days.”

Kazuichi squints for a moment before bursting out into an exclamation of understanding, and snickering, “Oh, yeah! Hajime said something about your ma’s cooking being atrocious.”

Gundham chokes suddenly, a ripple of indignance running through his pale features. “Kgh, he what? What business has he telling others of my plight? This is a grave mistake on his part, I assure you…”

Having become accustomed to brushing away the eccentricities forcibly injected into the conversation, Kazuichi sits up a little and says, “But, that makes me even more confused. If you’re eating badly at home, don’t you wanna use this time to eat something really good? Or are you, like, worried you’ll get too used to it?”

There’s a glint of guilt shifting through Gundham’s erratic gaze as he tries to find somewhere to rest his eyes without drawing suspicion. Eventually, he settles for staring out of the window. Shrinking back into the comfort of his scarf, his voice becomes muffled.

“It would...be a hassle. The archangel is quite sensitive to these matters. Her senses are keen, she would perceive the problem before I could even step foot into her line of sight.”

“Oh, I see,” Kazuichi smiles softly, matching the dwindling volume of Gundham’s voice as he trails off into a mumble. “You don’t wanna hurt her feelings, do you?”

Gundham attempts to look appalled. It doesn’t really work very well, his desire to shield his mother from harsh criticism bleeding through quite obviously in the way he speaks of her with such reservation. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, preoccupying himself with entertaining the Devas.

“It matters little to me,” he lies, barely audible. “My work on this earth comes first. If I must satisfy her needs to accomplish my tasks, then so be it. It’s...preventative action.”

“So, then, why vegetable gyoza?”

A lengthy pause puts some distance between the two of them, but the radio static is making the silence somehow deafening. Gundham finds himself forced to speak. He rests his chin on one hand, and with the other, begins to lightly stroke the soft fur on the top of Maga-Z’s little head.

“That’s a meaningless query. It is simply a-- ow!” Maga-Z suddenly bites down on his finger with no provocation, and his train of thought is so quickly derailed by his own surprise that the sentence he’d been about to say transforms into a tumbling of different words.

“I-it’s the only thing that woman cooks that’s any good! Maga-Z, what the hell was that for?” He rubs lightly at the spot on his knuckle where he’d been nibbled; not hard enough to draw blood and not enough to really be painful, but the lack of anticipation had startled him for a moment. The feisty hamster quickly deems Gundham a poor source of entertainment and slyly scampers away to join the others. For a second, Kazuichi thinks he can see some sliver of knowing in its little, black eyes.

“I see,” Kazuichi murmurs, hoping to edge skilfully around the inflammatory parts of their chat without losing out on what he seems to be learning about the other guy. “That’s why...vegetable gyoza. That’s kinda weird. Ain’t that a bit of a chore to make? Y’saying she can’t make, like, onigiri or something simpler?”

Gundham gives a brief exhale of annoyance, though it seems this is more directed at the tenacity of his hamster than Kazuichi. Briefly occupied by Maga-Z’s weird lapse in behaviour, his stoicism is reduced by just a touch, and he obliges Kazuichi with a truthful answer.

“She’s...a foreigner to this place, and she’s never been able to acquire the skills to match the cuisine. Gyoza is an overlap between her world and mine.”

Kazuichi tilts his head like a gently perplexed dog, but in reality, he’s anything but. It’s far more interesting of an answer than he’d been expecting. He figured the reason would simply be Usami-like levels of ineptitude, not a genuine cultural barrier. It makes sense though. Dumplings are a universal kind of food, different wherever you go, but the essence of it remains the same no matter what. From the sounds of it, she’s been trying to fill in her lack of knowledge at home by fitting in with local custom, but never quite succeeding. Thinking about it like that, it actually sounds a little bit sad.

“Why won’t she just cook for you what she knows how to? I mean, in the privacy of your own home, does it really matter if it doesn’t fit in?”

Gundham folds his arms. Whether he’s aware that he’s let the conversation get past him or not, he doesn’t seem keen on pumping the brakes just yet. He thinks on it for a moment, and his reply is, “Her repertoire is not large. Her skill is basic, and…to be honest…”

He stops, and his discomfort is suddenly palpable. He looks ready to break out into a cold sweat, and Kazuichi can feel the iciness radiating from his attitude as he fixates heavily on the edge of the table, which he begins to tap his fingertips against. He looks...regretful somehow, and Kazuichi can’t imagine why. He won’t ask though. After all, his curiosity is seriously piqued, and if he’s going to get answers out of Gundham, it’s easier to sit and let the guy talk in a circle until he gets somewhere.

Gundham tugs the hem of his scarf over his mouth as if to purposely silence himself, and the crackle in his voice rings hesitancy.

“...she grew up on a farmland. Her skill is not in cooking, but...animal butchery.”

Kazuichi can’t stop what falls out of his mouth being a sympathetic, “Oh, fucking hell.” He snatches up his hat and tugs it back on his head, and for the first time, he feels really quite strongly for this dumbass. Violent middle-school syndrome aside, that is some horrible luck to be paired up like that as parent and child. He’s gone from having one question to fifty questions, and if he doesn’t clamp a hand over his mouth, they might just escape involuntarily.

Gundham just deflates silently in his seat, looking like a weight has been lifted from his chest and replaced with a bigger, heavier weight. With his fingers, he begins to fidget, tapping against the bridge of his nose. The accumulation of stress and energy is becoming visible. Kazuichi can barely envision how tense his home-life is with that little fact hanging in the air between them.

“Jeez, and I thought me and my dad were polar opposites. You got me beat, dude. That must get awkward…”

Gundham sighs with such exasperation that it makes him look the most normal he’s looked all day. Isolated in the way he is, it seems likely that he doesn’t get to talk about this little facet of his life very often. He doesn’t look keen to share, but he seems somewhat relieved by the opportunity to admit it. Hostility can be shoved aside for now. Kazuichi won’t stop him. If it’s parent troubles, he’s all too aware of how heavy the burden can be. For now, he’ll let it bridge the gap between them.

“It’s… Yes and no. I told you before, my differences were always obvious from the very moment I stepped foot into this world. Of course, hawk-eyed as she is, that never slipped past her, so perhaps it might have been...difficult at times, but I’m not a fool. I understand the nature of this world. It is very much kill or be killed, and you eat to survive. Slaughtering animals has been human nature since before you could’ve ever even called us human. I’m not so delusional to believe the world could be anything but. Such is fate.”

“I guess so,” Kazuichi hums to himself, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. “But as a kid, that’s still gotta be a pretty hard lesson to learn.”

“It was, from time to time. When I first learnt what her life was like before arriving here, you could say I...felt a strong sense of betrayal. However, that was simply juvenile. I do not hold that against her. Raising animals in her environment was not a source of recreation. It had to be done. It makes her no different from a fox preying on a chicken, but...if only to offer myself any solace, I’m confident she reared them with respect.”

It’s always been rattling around back of Kazuichi’s brain, the barrier between Gundham and the world around him. After all, eating meat is pretty universal, and animals killing one another is an undeniable fact of the natural world. To feel such strong passion for the wellbeing of these creatures seems like a real curse when death is just as prevalent as life. He can’t imagine Gundham could survive by ignoring these facts, and it’s not like he’s some die-hard hippie vegan optimist either, but it’s still something that’s hard to gauge just by looking at him. The amount of eyeliner certainly doesn't help...

“I s’pose you had to accept the cycle of life pretty early on, huh?” Kazuichi murmurs, a vivid memory of his own six year-old self sobbing over a dead goldfish. He’ll omit that detail, but admit to understanding the pain that comes with losing what is more appropriate to call a friend than a pet.

“I don’t see why I must do so sooner than anyone else,” Gundham replies with intrigue in his eyes. “Death comes for all mortals. My work may be more relevant to the truths and philosophy of mortal life, but it shouldn’t weigh me down more by comparison. To avoid these facts will only make things more difficult in the long run.”

Tapping a finger against his chin in thought, Kazuichi asks, “So, are you, like, a vegetarian, then? I mean, life and death is one thing, but it must still be pretty hard to eat animals you can, like...understand.”

Gundham pauses rather pointedly before sighing, “It’s complicated.”

“I see…”

“Here you go! One, um, o-one burger with lots of cheese, and some vegetable gyoza!” Usami chirps loudly, erupting from the empty space at the end of their table with a plate in each paw. She neatly dispenses the plates onto the table, giving both boys a pleasant wave and trilling, “Enjoy your food! Make sure you wait an hour before going swimming, okay?”

Having taken a cleaver to the conversation, Usami disappears and takes their desire to continue talking with her. It’s no matter though when the food is looking so tantalising, and their stomachs are desperate for some substance. Kazuichi brightens up immediately, barely able to get his delight out in words before he’s shovelling food into his mouth. Gundham is distinctly less aggressive about the whole affair, but eats with speed in order to sate the growing hunger pangs. For the next half an hour, the room is filled with munching, and an unusually comforting atmosphere that wafts away the intensity of their animosity for one another.

Chapter Text

“So, about your door. You said you’ve looked everywhere, right?”

Kazuichi stretches out like a cat, stifling a suitable yowl as he sits cross-legged on the kerb of the diner's parking area. The sunshine and the ocean breeze helps his meal go down, and he feels double the satisfaction of a job done and a satiated appetite. Gundham lingers nearby, surveying the area and plotting his next course of action.

“I did. I’ve been searching since dawn on every island available to us, and saw no sign of it. It seems fate has laid out quite the challenge for me today,” he chuckles to himself, perhaps a little more at ease with the situation now that his house isn’t wide open to every bird, mosquito or pervert in the vicinity. “I even employed the aid of a flock of winged beasts not long before I ran into you, but even they couldn’t find anything.”

Kazuichi blinks wildly. He’s been searching since dawn? In this summery environment, dawn is like four in the morning! There’s no way he’s been scouring the islands for that long. So much time, so much help, because a birds-eye view is remarkably helpful in this scenario, but no answers to show for it? Something really bizarre must be up here, and Kazuichi can only roll his eyes at his own optimism of believing it could be anything but.

“Alright, so we can’t find it. There’s a decent chance it really might not be somewhere we can see. Have you asked anyone else about it?”

“As I mentioned earlier, everybody else appears to be busy. The only people I was able to ask were that morally bankrupt chef and Byakuya, but they’ve seen nothing at all. The dark queen is obviously aware of the situation, but is also clueless.”

Kazuichi quirks a brow. At first, the mention of Sonia from Gundham is enough to get his hackles up, but something else hits him as strange instead. It’s curious that Byakuya isn’t heading some sort of investigation into this bizarre turn of events, invested as he is with the state of the class as a whole. This kind of idiocy would be something he’d see sense in quashing right off the bat. Kazuichi’s confusion must be evident because Gundham then follows up by quietly telling him, “He was the one who suggested I come and find you…”

Weird, considering Gundham’s first words to Kazuichi has given him the impression he’d merely stumbled upon him as a lucky coincidence. Whatever. He’s got a favour out of it and a new mystery to solve. Having food in his stomach is giving him a bit of drive, and with this kind of logical mindset seeping in, he feels a little bit like Hajime. Oddly exciting, if he’s being honest with himself. A chance to play detective in a no-stakes case. Hajime’s always been kind of good at that.

“Then, let’s go see what everyone’s up to. I mean, they’re still gonna be on the island. Let’s start with...well, who do we think is most likely to cause trouble? Who’s a known menace to doors everywhere?”

Bluntly, Gundham scoffs, “Probably Nekomaru, but through no real malice. If he had broken my door down, he definitely would’ve told me about it by now.”

“Alright,” Kazuichi shrugs, pulling himself up onto his feet. “Safe to say we can cross him off the list then. What about...what about Ibuki? I think she takes locked doors as more of a challenge than a matter of fact, y’know?”

Gundham just huffs, pulling at a portion of his scarf so it sits comfortably draped over his front, and begins to wander away. “I suppose it’s not a bad place to start. That makes the music venue my next target.”

There’s something deeply menacing about the way he says that, even though his intentions are only ever going to be lightly violent at best. Kazuichi trots a little way behind him, hoping not to get shooed away and told to mind his own business. Gundham stalks at an incredible pace when he’s got somewhere he wants to be, and the awkward match-up of stride makes Kazuichi look like a very small dog attempting to keep up with a lion.

The jaunt to the music venue is not far, and Gundham’s tenacity cuts the journey time down by half, though it leaves Kazuichi sweaty and panting by the end of it. The music venue is thankfully cool inside, a small relief easily overshadowed by the perils of their investigation. Ibuki’s new musical endeavour hasn’t involved setting the curtains on fire, so for now, Kazuichi thinks they might be safe.

The venue is a little darker than usual when they step inside, lit semi-sufficiently by the array of neon signage plastered haphazardly over the walls above the bar. No live music is playing, but the tinny thrashing of low-quality grindcore being forced through captive speakers makes the room feel like a sensory torture chamber. Kazuichi curses the existence of the bar when he’s not even old enough to drink away the rumbling of his eardrums. In a digital world, does that law still apply? It’s not like he’s purchasing it, and the drinks won’t even be real in a technical sense.

As he wonders how many legal loopholes Miu has attempted to parkour over in her time at Hope’s Peak Academy alone, a roar of footsteps dashing around on-stage alerts them to the discomforting fact that they’re not the only ones in this dimly-lit room. Kazuichi has some reservations about calling out to a walking calamity like Ibuki whilst they’re clearly on the low ground here, but Gundham does not.

“Now then, siren of the abyss! Heed my call!”

‘Ibuki’ works just as well, perhaps a little easier to pronounce, but the effect is much the same. From somewhere on-stage, shadowed by the darkness that spreads across the performance area, a charming response rings out.

“Who’s that? Is that hamster guy? Suh-weet! Hold on, hold on, lemme just-- give me two seconds, and I’ll-- oops! Here we go, here we go!”

Gundham silently strops at being referred to in such a demeaning manner, visible even in this low lighting, but soon the lights begin to flash erratically. The baton lighting judders with alarm, glowing an awkward array of neon colours, and though he’s no lighting technician, Kazuichi is pretty sure it’s not working out the way Ibuki has planned it. It’s positively eye-searing, literally painful to look at, and Kazuichi thinks he’d rather go outside and stare point blank at the sun.

“Well, this is...a great time to find out what epilepsy is like,” he grunts to himself. With even less patience, Gundham’s low reply is something to the effect of ‘there’s a hospital next door, you’ll be fine’. Kazuichi doesn’t doubt that, but what isn’t fine is whatever the hell is happening on stage now. The lights continue to flash obnoxiously, and for some deeply concerning reason, the structures above the stage are creaking loud enough to be heard over the godawful music choice.

Then, with an almighty yelp, Ibuki comes swinging from above the stage like a pop-princess gorilla, suspended purely by a microphone wire she’s got clinched between her legs. The swing of her momentum sends her soaring right above Kazuichi and Gundham’s heads, and being flung upside-down in the process, Kazuichi ends up getting a whip-like faceful of her thick hair.

“Whoops! Sorry, Kazuichi!” she calls, hitting the peak of her swing and beginning the return back to the stage. The lights and music continue to bombard their frail senses, and Gundham looks ready to keel over and die. Some use his dark powers are here.

“Ibuki, get the-- you’re not fucking Eddie Vedder, get the hell down here!”

Ibuki technically does as she’s told, the microphone spinning her in a loose circle several times before she’s able to safely disembark. The moment both feet touch the ground, her eyes spin like roulette wheels and she topples right off the stage with all the fitting grace of a burnt-out rockstar. The lights soon fade into a dull blue, and all that remains of her performance is a cloud of dust erupting from her harsh landing.

“...if she’s dead we can just go, right?”

“I’m not dead yet!” Ibuki rockets upright, the crackling of her spine palpable enough to make Kazuichi retch, and she shimmies forwards on her backside and places herself cross-legged in front of the two stubborn fools who dare adventure into this lair she’s created for herself. “Pretty sweet stunt, right? It’ll look awesome once I get the pyrotechnics set up!”

“Get the lights fixed first!” Kazuichi barks, still rubbing the glare from his watering eyes. “God, you could give someone a seizure from the other side of the island! That landing did not look good by the way, are you-- did you break anything?”

Ibuki playfully wafts a hand in front of her face as if to dismiss the very idea. “Nah, it’s all good if you ragdoll, right? That’s, like, how you survive car crashes, yeah?”

“Yeah, car crash is right in your case,” Kazuichi groans, feeling the throbbing of a migraine coming on. Gundham only just seems to be recovering from the carnage, a little paler than usual and with his hands placed firmly over a quivering lump under his scarf. Guess the poor Devas hadn’t been expecting such a ruckus either. Kazuichi gives them his silent sympathies.

“So, so, what did you two want? Come to lend Ibuki a hand, right? I could always use a second opinion on some of these effects, actually—”

Kazuichi is already flinging his arms out to wildly refuse, yapping, “No, no, no! No way! I’m dizzy just from watching that! We came to ask you about a door!”

“A door?” Ibuki pulls her knees up and rests her chin upon them, tilting her head back and forth as if to stir some of the languid thoughts stagnating in her possibly empty brain. Nothing concrete seems to come to mind, and she’s left with a vaguely dumb expression on her face.

“It appears some wretch with extremely poor judgement has fled with the front door to my cottage,” Gundham informs her, squaring back up to his full height, but maintaining the shield he’s keeping around the hamsters nesting in the sea of purple fabric around his neck. “We’re looking for information so that we may locate this fool and deliver the suitable punishment.”

Whilst it looks like Ibuki is thinking, she’s glancing between both Gundham and Kazuichi with eyes that suggest she’s seeing something they aren’t. A small smile begins to bloom over her features, her restless tongue within her mouth fussing with the piercings lining her bottom lip. For a moment, it looks like she’s about to comment on something, but it’s held back.

“Sorry, dudes, I have no idea!” she tweets. “I’ve been in here all day so I haven’t seen much of what’s goin’ on outside, y’know? Man, the front door to your cottage, what a riot! I didn’t think you could do that!”

Evidently, she’s going to be no help at all. Kazuichi sighs, sinking his hands into his pockets and blinking hard in the hopes of restoring some of his sight. Gundham emits a noise that sounds like a spitting snake, already fed-up with the state of his day. With hardened features, he spins on his heel and begins to leave.

“Guess we’ll look somewhere else,” Kazuichi mutters, hoping that their next destination won’t be so loud. Before he’s able to escape Ibuki’s unhinged base of operations, she emits a sly giggle and watches him with curious, cat-like eyes.

“What a weird pairing I’m seeing here,” she croons. “Y’know, I never thought about it before, but—” she pauses to hold up a wonky heart shape with her hands, “you two wouldn’t make such a bad match now, would ya? Heheh, Ibuki the matchmaker always knows what’s up!”

Kazuichi, blood draining from his face, could not look any more offended, and as he begins to back away towards the door, coherency failing his open mouth, the only thing he can choke out is, “Truly, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you.”

He slams the door shut on an explosion of raucous laughter, bouncing obnoxiously from all four walls of the venue and ringing in his ears for minutes afterwards. Ibuki is a special kind of idiot. How did she come to that conclusion? Her train of thought will forever be a mystery to him, and Kazuichi shudders as he shakes off the unwanted thoughts that dare to intrude on his psyche, poking and prodding him into wondering how the two of them would really fare as a match-up.

In that moment, he thanks whatever sorry excuse for a god above prevented Gundham from hearing that snippet of the conversation.

The next person to fall under their suspicions, a consistent force of annoyance to them both, is Hiyoko. Aptly, she’s nowhere to be found, and Kazuichi can’t hide his scepticism when they peer into the beach house for any sign of a helping hand. Past the thick, streaming sunbeams cast across the floor through the gap in the doorway, a bright mop of tomato-coloured hair is hunched over scattered pages on a table.

Neither of them fare very well under Mahiru’s high standards, but she’s the closest shot they have to finding the little runt they’re looking for. They sidle into the room awkwardly, and their shadows blotting out the sunlight prompts Mahiru to look up. Her attitude may be firm, but her smile is often pleasant.

“Oh, it’s you two. This is a little unusual, I don’t see you guys come out this way. What gives?”

She stretches up to her full height, hands planted onto the table, rocking against it on the balls of her feet with a playful, rhythmic motion. There’s stacks and stacks of photographs littered absolutely everywhere, some even escaping to the floor, and a hefty pile of books all laying open in different places. Her appearance is neat, but it seems even she isn’t immune to the clutter of her work. Kazuichi spies her camera sitting on the chair behind the table, a camera he’d helped fix not too long ago.

“We seek a moment of your time, keeper of memories,” Gundham announces grandly to the room. “Your aid is necessary to our quest for answers.”

Mahiru’s expression falls flat immediately, her thin brows lowering with a sudden plummet of patience. Kazuichi might not always be on her good side, lacking pretty severely in his efforts to become a functional human being, but he’s always got respect for her honesty. As if to push Gundham further into the thick of it, he inches behind the taller boy with the intention of letting him take the brunt of Mahiru’s hardy attitude.

“Alright, well you’ve got my attention,” she tells him sternly. “But if you want to keep it, you’d better drop that middle-school act. Seriously, you’re almost an adult now, aren’t you embarrassed?”

She really doesn’t pull her punches, and a slight flicker of a vein running across Gundham’s temple is prominent even to Kazuichi, standing a few feet behind him. Pissing off Mahiru is not the way to go if they really want answers, so Gundham is going to have to hold his tongue if he wants to get anywhere. He’s usually pretty good at ignoring whatever ridicule is thrown his way, but withstanding it for so long must take a toll on him.

Bitingly, he returns, “How I conduct myself is truly none of your business. I came to ask a question and that is all. I don’t expect you to cower, but you should consider changing your tune if you ever decide you require my abilities.”

A valid threat, Kazuichi figures, because Gundham’s scope is actually pretty large, and it doesn’t help anyone to get under the skin of a guy who has a solid relationship with a good two thirds of the natural world. However, that level of self-importance doesn’t impress Mahiru in the slightest, and she glares over Gundham’s shoulder at Kazuichi. His accomplice in this matter. Kazuichi, panicked in his attempt to rectify the situation, just gives her a hurried shake of his head, and his pleading eyes beg her ‘please don’t antagonise him’.

Mahiru sighs, deflating a little as she folds her arms. She’s far too caring to let something she considers to be self-sabotaging go. It’s not that Gundham is a bad guy, but she thinks he could benefit from changing his unusual lifestyle here and there. Though she’s pretty small by comparison, her stubborn streak could probably surpass Gundham’s by quite a bit, and that’s seriously saying something.

She looks back down to the table, sliding a few photographs around so that they all sit neatly a line. With a reluctant sigh, she tells him, “I mean, look at these. Such good photos of us all. I’ve been taking them since the first day of school, but wouldn’t you like a few different memories? Do you really want to look the same in every photo we’ve got? I even got a shot of that time Teruteru tried to rock a perm-- and that was awful! But, at least it was something new!”

Kazuichi creeps up to the table to peer down at the array of photographs. Gundham, too, is spurred by his own curiosity, and Mahiru begins to fish out a few pieces she has a special fondness for. Her smile widens the moment she begins to talk about them.

“This one was from the sports day we had- Kazuichi, you threw up after trying to run the 800m! I didn’t think your motion sickness would mess with you so badly,” she laughs. “And, this one was the barbecue during the summer fireworks! I hope we get to do that again this year.”

The photographs are fantastic. Still images often have a sense of flatness to them, but the motionless scenes that Mahiru captures are somehow so full of life and vibrancy. The meat Teruteru is cooking in the barbecue photo looks so delicious that Kazuichi can almost catch the scent of it lingering in the air. The fireworks are glowing brightly, radiating beautifully from the page, and Mahiru neatly places the photo into the album in front of her. Its new home lies between a photo of Chiaki falling asleep with a mushroom skewer hanging out of her mouth and a photo of Hiyoko dropping a spider down Mikan's blouse.

“Photographs make such good memories, but they’re also reminders,” Mahiru tells them wisely. “When you look back at these pictures, it makes you think of what’s changed since then, and what kind of future you want to see. It’s even more important for us right now, seeing as we’re almost adults. We haven’t got all the time in the world to sit around and daydream about what kind of person we want to be. We’ve gotta get up and do it!”

She’s not wrong at all, but her optimism and drive simply isn’t mutual. Kazuichi finds himself less occupied with deciding who he wants to be and more with avoiding becoming the kind of person he doesn’t want to be. Gundham, similarly, is much too hell-bent on remaining comfortable in his existence, and quite a lot of his character revolves heavily around taking the necessary precautions to prevent people from destroying the careful social fortress he’s built. Someone like Mahiru is a good foil for both of these, taking little damage when she strides right through their defences, but unfortunately, her understanding of their situations is not helpful.

“What were your photos like in middle school?” she asks, a touch of hope to her voice that frankly the other two can’t match up to. Though they recoil in different ways, the painful twinge in their memories is shared.

Kazuichi scoffs, weak and telltale. “Pfft, I don’t ever wanna see my middle school photos again. There’s no way you’d recognise me from those, and just lookin’ at them reminds me of what a crappy time I had.”

“I...have no photographs from that time.”

Mahiru blinks, stunned. She seems completely disbelieving of the fact that anyone could make it though three years of school without having a single photo taken of them, and Kazuichi’s meagre backstory pulls a regretful gloom from her hazel-stained eyes. She stares down at the culmination of the hard work she’s been doing since the very start of their school life, still flipping through pages and pages of photographs.

“Then...I guess it’s a good thing I snapped so many good shots, isn’t it?” she chuckles half-heartedly. “But, really, Gundham, no photos at all? What about when you were a little kid? Did your mother ever take photos of you?”

Rather abruptly, Gundham chokes, “If you were ever so unfortunate as to catch sight of any of the archangel’s sacred memories, I promise you, you would never see the light of day again.”

“...okay,” Mahiru whistles. She can’t bring herself to scold him right now for his rude words. She’s definitely hit a nerve, so it’s probably best not to pry too deeply. He seems appalled by the idea of anyone seeing what she imagines are quite endearing and likely embarrassing shots. Though she firmly believes photos are to be shared with the world, she knows very well that some people hold them dearly and with great privacy, as they hold bad memories as much as good ones, much like Kazuichi had implied.

Regardless, it doesn’t deter her. With a wider grin, she then plucks out a photograph from the bigger pile and hands it out to Gundham. “What about this one, then?”

Gundham hesitantly takes the photograph, and when Kazuichi leans over his shoulder to get a look, his heart flutters. This must be the nature of Mahiru’s work, her talent in all its glory making him feel so strange and vulnerable. The subject matter might be unusual, but the photograph itself is positively adorable. Somehow, she’s managed to catch the perfect idyllic shot of the four Devas, all banded together on the beach and scampering through the sand. From the silky-looking grains to the brazen blue ocean lining the horizon, they each stand out like little gems, the sunlight casting a beautiful highlight over the tufts of their fur. It’s like a glamour shot for rodents.

Kazuichi half-expects Gundham to snort with derision, to claim that he won’t be so easily smitten by such a thrilling illusion, but when he glances up at him, the guy is burying the bottom half of his face into his scarf with wide eyes. Is...he trembling? An unusual colour is climbing up over his face, tinting his forehead a very faint pink.

“I couldn’t help it,” Mahiru beams. “They make for such a good shot, and they’re so co-ordinated, too! I thought it’d be nice to get a photo of them on their own. Do...do you like it?”

Gundham is speechless, and he tilts the photograph from side-to-side, inspecting it from all angles and in all lights. The only noise to escape him is a very shaky breath, and when he regains enough sense to remember he has to reply, he mumbles, “...what a wicked illusion you’ve cast. Few can ever claim to capture the Devas in their rightful glory, but this is...very sufficient.”

As if to prove his point, but really, Kazuichi thinks he might just be a little excited, Gundham prods lightly at one of the lumps in his scarf, and he holds the photo up to his neck to show the sleepy San-D poking its head out to investigate. San-D emits a delightful little chirp and returns to nesting comfortably, seemingly satisfied on behalf of its comrades by Mahiru’s generous gesture.

“I’m glad you like it!” Mahiru grins, the sunshine radiating from her face rivalling that of the sunshine streaming through the windows of the beach house. “Would you like me to print you a copy?”

Gundham somewhat reluctantly hands the photograph back, and into his scarf he mutters, “The...camera on my device is quite inadequate. This would make a fine offering to the Devas. You have placed yourself in their good graces.”

Mahiru quirks a brow. “That’s...good to hear.”

As she files away the photo, scribbling a reminder to herself in her notebook, she begins to snap some of the books shut and organise her workspace. The strain of effort pulls at her tone as she asks, “So, you said you-- oof, had a question, right? I should really get back to work, so what was it you wanted?”

“Oh, we’re looking for Hiyoko,” Kazuichi pipes up, rolling the ache out of his shoulders and folding his arms comfortably behind his head. “Any idea where she is?”

“Hiyoko?” Mahiru pauses, eyes flitting up to the ceiling as she ponders it for a moment. “I saw her at breakfast this morning, but not since then. I came straight here, so I haven’t really seen much of anyone until you two turned up! Sorry.”

“Aw, man,” Kazuichi groans. Guess this avenue was another waste of time, but hey, at least they got to see a few good pictures. Though it leads him no closer to the mystery of his missing front door, Gundham doesn’t seem the slightest bit disappointed, likely still riding the wave of elation from that gorgeous photo of his hamsters.

“What did you need Hiyoko for, anyway?”

“E-erm,” Kazuichi stammers, realising that this is a situation best kept away from Mahiru’s stern gaze. “N-nothing really, it’s just...we’re just chatting to a few people, y’know? Ibuki’s, erm...doing some interesting things at the moment.”

“I see,” Mahiru replies with a hint of suspicion. She’s no fool, and Kazuichi is an awful liar. However, her scepticism dissipates, and what blooms in its place is a cheeky grin and the motion of her holding her camera aloft. In one fell swoop, without even asking for their attention, the shutter of her camera clicks loudly, and the magic of her talent hangs briefly in the air.

“Y’know,” she admits with a gentle chuckle, “it’s not often I see you two walking around together. Moments like these really get my shutter-finger going. I wonder what kind of people you’ll be in the future, looking back on this memory from now?”

She briefly holds up the digital screen on the back of her camera for both boys to squint at, and though it’s small, it’s a well-defined and distinct photo, capturing both of them backlit by the sunbeams behind them. Whilst it had an anticipation of about two seconds, it makes for a nice candid shot, their expressions languid and comfortable. However, the proximity stands out enough to leave Kazuichi’s ears ringing loudly with Ibuki’s parting words. She’s so invasive even when she’s not in the vicinity, it’s ridiculous.

So, after all of that, they have no leads, no answers, and a photo of them together that neither of them asked for swimming around in Mahiru’s vast collection. Kazuichi really doesn’t know what to say, making some garbled attempt at a sullen thank-you as the intruding ideas from Ibuki’s tattered mind start making noticeable dents in his psyche. He makes sure to get himself out of the beach house before his moodiness sets in. Gundham follows closely behind him, a glassy indifference passing over his eyes. For just a moment, Kazuichi’s open glare catches his line of sight, but the returning gaze is surprisingly placid.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Mikan—”

“W-waaugh!!”

Emitting a shriek shrill enough to rattle the grubby panes of glass set into the hospital windows, Mikan makes a terrific leap into the air and topples over. Her legs stick out awkwardly over her head as she lands firmly on her back. It’s the most cumbersome front-flip Kazuichi has ever seen, and no amount of her frankly impressive clumsiness will really make looking at her underwear appealing to him. Mikan is unfortunate, low-hanging fruit in the face of his teenage infatuation with the fairer sex, and truthfully, he feels bad even considering it. She’s a walking catastrophe, and though her introverted rambling can get a bit grating, she really does deserve a break.

The frequency of these little accidents is made evident by Kazuichi and Gundham’s lack of initiative to help, and they patiently wait for her to clamber back onto her feet, quivering as she does so. Kazuichi considers lending her a hand, but you don’t coddle a toddler every time they fall flat on their face, and he thinks this circumstance is owed the same tough love.

“I- ahem—” Mikan coughs weakly, stammering and stumbling her way to greeting these two unlikely visitors to the hospital. “I-I’m...ah, I’m sorry for-- I didn’t mean to trip over like that! W-what did you need? Are you hurt? D-do you need a shot? I-I’ve got lots-- lots and lots of shots here!”

Kazuichi winces. He’s pretty self-aware about the depths he can sink to, the range of how pathetic he can be, but this is just painful to watch. Mikan, by comparison, makes him look as graceful as Byakuya, and he feels like he should thank her for that fact. Shaking his head with wild alarm, he stutters, “N-no, nope, not at all, that’s not-- we’re just here to ask you some questions, Mikan.”

You’d think he’d just asked her to strip for a cavity search what with the way the blood drains from her face, leaving her features white and ghostlike. Her trembling could probably place on the Richter scale, and forcing all the breath from her lungs in a shaky reply, she manages to churn out, “I...o-oh, I don’t-- I didn’t do anything! Honestly, p-please believe me! I-if this is about the bedpans, I d-didn’t mean to, I just-- oh, I just tripped!! I cleaned it up! I-I made sure to—”

Kazuichi cannot silence her fast enough, but Gundham’s quicker to the draw than he is, his patience boiling over. If he likened Kazuichi to a skittish, caged animal, then Mikan is the chronically wasting deer they take out back to shoot. Though his tongue wraps thickly around every word, Kazuichi can sense his mercy and how much effort he puts into holding back for her sake.

“Silence, healer. Have you seen a front door for a cottage anywhere on this island?”

Mikan gulps audibly, but there’s no telling if she’s acting suspiciously or not when this is her natural state of being. “I-I...I don’t-- I’ve not seen anything! Wh...what are you talking about, exactly…?”

“This guy had his door pinched in the middle of the night. We’re trying to track it down,” Kazuichi tells her kindly, wondering if maybe Mikan is the one in need of a shot instead. Perhaps a sedative would do her some good.

Mikan’s brows furrow with intense anxiety, and a quirk of bemusement reaches her lips. “Y-you had your door stolen?! That’s t-terrible! Wh-why, without a door, you’d...you’d get all kinds of insect bites, o-or maybe even a wild animal—”

“I’m well aware of the risks,” Gundham cuts in sharply. “We’ve crafted a fine solution to this predicament, now I simply need to know where my door is.”

“I-I’m sorry! I promise I don’t know! O-oh, I’d offer you a door from the hospital, b-but we need them for-- for patient privacy! O-oh...I-I mean, if you want...if you want you could-- eek! You could use me instead, just please believe me! I d-don’t know anything—”

As a touch of hilarity to an already comical situation, Gundham reels back with some real horror in his eyes at the idea of having Mikan play the role of any kind of furniture in his cottage. The flash of surprise disappears as quick as it had come, being swiftly replaced by the usual stoicism, but Kazuichi manages to catch it. It draws a dry smile from him, and he takes immense joy in any situation in which Gundham is forced to act like an average mortal.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kazuichi laughs awkwardly, hoping to dispel Mikan’s growing anxious energy. “By any chance, you haven’t seen Hiyoko about, have you?

“H-Hiyoko? I...I-I’m sorry, I’ve been here at the h-hospital all day. I think I...I think I saw her at b-breakfast, but that was it. I-I have no idea where she is! S-Sorry! Please don’t be mad at me…!”

Kazuichi gives Gundham a flat glance, and they share a huff of understanding. This is starting to sound a bit repetitive now, but if Mahiru and Mikan don’t know where she is, where the hell could she have run off to? It’s not like she’s inconspicuous, plastered in bold orange hues. She should be pretty easy to spot at a glance, but if she’s not out causing trouble in the open, then she’s clearly got something to do today.

“Hah,” Kazuichi leans back to whisper at Gundham. “Maybe she’s hiding from us. Guilty conscience, y’know?”

Gundham raises a hand to slick a stray lock of hair back, hovering for a moment over his forehead as he’s suspended in thought. With a meagre grunt of a laugh, he quietly replies, “I doubt that fearsome little imp is capable of experiencing such a humble emotion. She takes too much pride in her misdemeanours.”

“Ohoh, you make a good point!”

“U-um!” Mikan erupts with a squeal. “D-did you need anything else? I’m sorry I can’t be much...much help to you, but I really-- erm, I do have a lot to do, and-- I’m not trying to kick you out! Really! I just, I think I—”

“I think you should sit down before you faint, Mikan,” Kazuichi tells her with raised brows, watching the way her wobbly stride inches her closer to the door leading into the ground floor wing of patient rooms. He wafts her presence away with a neat flick of his hand, telling her, “We get it, you’ve got work to do. Well, thanks anyway. You...did your best.”

Or, at least he hopes she did, and judging by her sweaty, ill-looking expression, it seems like she’s hoping the same thing. She mumbles a weak farewell that dissolves into incoherent babbling as she carries herself back to her duties, leaving the door swinging gently in her wake. They’re getting nowhere fast, but it’s not completely meaningless. After all, they’re certainly ruling out where Hiyoko isn’t.

“God damn,” Kazuichi sighs loudly as they exit the hospital, stepping out onto the dusty path that connects up the third island. “For a loud-mouthed little brat, she sure is sneaky!”

“Oh! Gundham!”

Cutting through the dry, island air, Kazuichi thinks his ears have been blessed by the voice of a goddess. Such a soft tone of voice yet so firm and melodic, there’s really only one person it could be, and though his name isn’t the one being called, he’s the first one to jump to attention. His eyes sparkle with passion. He’d felt a little low earlier, not wanting to visit Sonia whilst in the presence of a guy he’d consider to be a rival, but when she comes gliding towards them, he can’t help his excitement.

“Miss Sonia! You’re looking lovely today, as always,” he beams, the sun glinting off the rows of his sharp teeth. “What brings you here to the hospital?”

Sonia’s surprise is muted, a dull glaze to her eyes when they land upon Kazuichi, but her smile is polite and proper. “Oh,” she murmurs. “Kazuichi, you’re here too. My, this is unusual.”

It seems Mikan’s awkward, vibrating energy has rubbed off on Kazuichi in the short time they’d spoken, as he’s now the one bouncing anxiously on the tips of his toes, eager in his gesticulation and brimming with an unnerving purity. Conversely, Gundham is the most still and silent he’s been all day.

“Yeah, I’m helping Gundham look for his missing door! See, I fixed him a new one to use for the time being. Neat, right?”

Sonia’s mouth hangs open for a moment. She’s clearly taking careful consideration of the words she chooses, which is standard protocol for a princess in any situation, but her hesitance is a bit of a sting. It’s almost like she doesn’t believe him. “I see, is that...so? That’s very helpful of you, Kazuichi.”

Kazuichi’s grin is blinding, which might be what prompts to Sonia suddenly turn her head and peer out over the horizon across the water. In his most desperate of dreams, Kazuichi would fantasise that she’s doing so because she’s far too shy to look him in the eye, but he’s not an idiot. Even considering that as an option makes him feel deeply embarrassed by himself. He’s pained by his own display of adoration.

“So, the door is still missing? That is very unfortunate,” Sonia tells Gundham kindly. “My deepest sympathies. I have been keeping an eye out for it during my day, but unfortunately, I have found nothing. I apologise.”

Before Gundham can give any kind of response, Kazuichi butts in and assures her, “Hey, there’s no need to apologise, Miss Sonia! We haven’t found anything either. Really, the one who should be apologising is the dumbass who thinks running off with someone’s front door is a cool thing to do.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t you then?”

Ouch. Ow, ow, ow, ouch, ouch, ouch. Kazuichi swallows, and it feels like gulping down a handful of nails. His stomach suddenly churns with a dry, hot feeling of nausea, and the fact Sonia is asking him this so sweetly makes him feel horrible for having such sensitive feelings in the first place. She must mean well, her honesty often gets the better of her, but it hurts like hell to think she’d ever suspected him in the first place. He bites his lip, finding nothing more to say.

“Cease your concern, princess of darkness,” Gundham tells her in a way that could be fond if it didn’t sound so terse. “My search is not over yet. This is simply a trivial tribulation the mortal realm has placed in my way. The Overlord of Ice shall not be subdued by such a pitiful attempt on his privacy. A savage punishment still awaits the foolish wretch responsible.”

Clapping her hands together, Sonia brightly squeals, “Oh, good! Please do not get discouraged! I am sure you will find the perpetrator in no time.”

The conversation past that, to Kazuichi, is meaningless. He can’t will himself to pay attention. All that rings in his ears is her merry laughter and gorgeous voice, and he’s starstruck. She’s just so unbelievably beautiful. He’s never seen a woman like her in his life, and though he’d always had some vague mental image of the perfect woman in his head, cobbled together during his elementary-school years as he’d been discovering the facets of love, he couldn’t have possibly anticipated the real thing. She’s perfect…

...which is why it depresses him. A perfect woman. A real perfect woman. Every step is graceful, every word is pure, every little detail he can make out of her is vivid and radiant. There’s nothing to her that he could ever clock as an imperfection. In fact, whilst he attempts to blot out the painfully isolating chatter around him, he can prove it to himself right now.

See, Sonia is just a picture of natural beauty. Her hair shimmers this incredible shade of platinum blonde, soft-looking and cascading over her back in thick, loopy locks. Her complexion is even, a little on the pale side but not eerily so. Her eyelashes are thick yet so delicate looking, creating a perfect frame for her shining eyes. They’re mostly grey, but are graced with a little splash of bright blue that flickers like sparkling ocean waves whenever the sun passes over her face. Gently rosy cheeks, plump, cherry-coloured lips, and when she grins in that cute way that causes her features to scrunch up, he can make out a faint glittering of her teeth. Every which way her face contorts around her emotions is stunning. It’s like crack for the soul, and though Kazuichi knows that’s a brutally common comparison to make in the case of such a regal beauty, all he’s got left for himself is honesty.

Now, if he were to compare that to something vastly inferior like Gundham, well…

As he peers up at Gundham’s face, he realises that despite there being so much to look at, he’s never actually looked at him this closely before. All these details are strangely new to him, and he finds himself a little curious. He’d always assumed Gundham faked his paleness with some sort of makeup, but there are no creases or smears to suggest so, and he wonders if that could be a presence of his mother’s foreign genetics. All the perfections he sees in Sonia are met with the polar opposite of Gundham’s features. He’s got a thin, crooked nose with a prominent bridge that lends his face a discernable shape. However, it’s dulled by the roundness of his cheeks- he’s tall and pretty masculine looking, but there’s still a hint of childhood chub protruding over his jawline. His eyes are clearly made rounder and wilder-looking by the heinous amounts of eyeliner he’s using, so it’s hard to tell what they look like in their natural state, but they don’t glimmer with Sonia’s purity. They burn with a fierce knowing that makes him look stony and a touch conniving. His lips are also unusually thin, prone to drawing inwards when displaying ire or contemplation. His face is really quite expressive, and in a moment of pitiful self-flagellation, is more than what Kazuichi thinks he could bring to the table.

To be perfectly honest, Gundham’s face actually suits him just fine, reinforcing that kind of untouchable, dangerous character that he’s so keen on maintaining. It’s no wonder Kazuichi has never bothered to pay him any mind when he thinks his interests lie better with the wish of every naïve teenage boy, and this is the point that depresses him so. Who wouldn’t want perfection? Everyone wishes for perfection, even if the definition of perfection varies from person to person. With that in mind, how likely is it that everyone on earth is going to get what they want? It’s a statistical mindfuck. One that rears its ugly head and slaps Kazuichi’s self-consciousness around, yelling at him that it’s never going to work out for him. The gift of perfection rarely graces anyone’s presence, and if it’s ever going to be bestowed upon a humble mortal, what chance is there that it’ll fall into the lap of a grubby mechanic with unresolved self-esteem issues and a knack for overcompensation?

The moment that word crosses his mind, the first time ever to do so, Kazuichi thinks he might just throw up on the ground. Overcompensation. Oh, now that’s making far too much sense for his liking. The optimistic portion of his brain starts to rally a chant of poorly constructed self-inflation, an attempt to bombard Kazuichi with the wishful idea that he’s simply an overzealous but honest kind of lover. He’s not desperate, he’s just keen! Youth doesn’t last forever, and how much regret will he feel if he doesn’t speak from his heart? Except speaking from his heart hasn’t really done his soul any good. Saying what he says doesn’t lead him to some kind of satisfaction that would make his middle-aged self any happier. It leaves him wanting, and for what, he’s kind of clueless. Surely, this is the point where Sonia swoops in and kisses all of the cracks in his self-perception all better, but that’s not happening, so now where is he?

He’s between a girl he adores more than life and a guy he realises he has now no concretely formed opinion of, but seeing as they’re in such enviously close proximity, he’s basically equated to dogshit by default. Where he finds himself now is firmly up shit creek without a paddle, a boat or a desire to save himself.

“Well then, I must leave you to your search,” Sonia tells Gundham with a huge, sparkling smile. “I actually came here to the hospital to assist Mikan! She said she would teach me how to perform some basic first aid, so I am rather excited!”

Kazuichi wants to tell her that it’s a pretty good idea. You can never have too many skills under your belt, but he recognises it’s typically in his deepest fantasy to allow Sonia to live a blissfully ignorant life. One where he could take care of everything for her. One where she wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, but she looks so happy to do this that he can’t really bring himself around to the idea of discouraging her. Why is he even so concerned with it anyway? Does he actually have any business knowing what she’s doing with her time? The words ‘filthy commoner’ rush through his mind, and he knows he’s spiralling into misery when it leaves an ache in his chest instead of a tent in his pants.

“I see,” Gundham mutters placidly. “A wise decision. I bid you luck on your endeavours.”

“And, I bid you luck on yours!” Sonia chirps, gliding past and bidding Kazuichi not even a hint of a goodbye, though if he wants to get hopeful, the passing glance she offers could be construed as one. He keeps his lips tightly sealed, feeling rooted in place. He wants to go back to his cottage, but if he ditches this situation now it’s just going to haunt him for the rest of the day. He’s got no choice. Investigating this mystery has become following Gundham around to keep his own burning mentality on ice.

He’s not got a single stake in this case, so making a suggestion seems like a good way to muscle in uselessly on Gundham’s problem. His own recognition of that fact doesn’t prevent him from sticking his foot in it though. Kazuichi finds himself racking his brain for an idea of what to do, but nothing is sticking. Nothing presents itself to him. Hiyoko’s whereabouts is still a mystery, and if the door hasn’t been spotted by now, he suspects that there’s no hope of retrieving it.

“Hiyoko,” Kazuichi mutters to thin air. “What kind of business would she have with a door? She wouldn’t…she wouldn’t expend more effort than she’d have to for anything. Taking that much time just to mess with Gundham doesn’t seem like her…”

Gundham squints down at him, and though he’s hearing the words quite clearly, he still asks, “What are you babbling about now?”

“O-oh, nothing. I’m just...thinking,” Kazuichi replies uncertainly, scratching his cheek lightly in his absentminded habit. “If Hiyoko wanted to mess with you, I think she’d just put ants in your room or something. This feels like trying too hard for her.”

Brusquely, likely attributed to the snapping of his patience, Gundham exhales with harsh distaste, and spits, “Is that what you think?”

Kazuichi shrinks back. He really shrinks back. For a second, that voice had sounded familiar, but too much so to pinpoint. It feels less like he’s heard that voice before, and more like he’s heard that voice everywhere. It takes him by such surprise that a short jolt runs through him, keeping him frozen. An unwanted opinion. Deeply, deeply unwanted. Is that what he thinks? Is that what was asked of him? His lack of anticipation leaves him with his mouth hanging open slightly, but his brows shudder upwards in an uncharacteristic flash of innocence.

He’s got nothing to say, so he says nothing. He decides his reaction was far too weak, far too juvenile, for the kind of guy he’s supposed to be, so his eyes flit pointedly to the ground as if to ignite a spur of indifference. It doesn’t work. It makes him look hesitant. He can really feel Gundham’s blazing eyes on him, and it’s so invasive that he just wants to snap and tell him to fuck off, but he knows he’s overpowered here. It would be an unwise move. Maybe if he pretends that all of this never happened, things can move on.

Nervously awaiting the moment in which he’s swept firmly under the rug, Kazuichi fusses with the fabric of his jumpsuit, rubbing the coarse fibres between the calloused pads of his fingertips. He expects a rumbling of thunder, a voice like a flash of lightning, but that’s not what happens. What follows is...soft.

“Hm. Perhaps you have a point. Hiyoko is...straightforward in her dark deeds. I doubt she would pass up an opportunity to celebrate her mischief. Let us not come to such judgement just yet.”

A lot of things happen very suddenly within the depths of Kazuichi’s trembling brain. This mercy. The benevolence woven into Gundham’s tactful words- is that on purpose? For a moment, Gundham really creates this godlike sense of superiority that sweeps Kazuichi up, making him feel like he’s just been bestowed a sacred gift that’s unparalleled in its rarity. It’s the kind of thing he envisions when bowing to Sonia, hoping for just a crumb of time and recognition. They match each other in the nobility they exude, and the decision Gundham makes in reeling back mirrors what Kazuichi desperately seeks from the princess he so adores. To be so far beneath someone, a feeling he knows well, and to experience the breath of fresh air that comes with being plucked out of the abyss feels like a dream. He always thought it could only be Sonia. Who else could be far enough above to pull him out of the hole he’s tried so hard to scrabble out of himself?

He dares to look up and meet Gundham’s gaze, trapped between a horrible feeling of inadequacy and this disgusting desire to have someone else save him. He’s not the kind of irredeemable pig that fetishists take such a liking to, but he’s swimming in something that’s forcing the idea down his throat that he’s got less right to exist on this earth than a worm. It’s a ridiculous, self-sabotaging notion that helps nobody, but it’s all he can think of. He thinks if he looks up at Gundham, he might very well see the kind of overlord he’s always claimed to be, towering over him with eyes that bore through Kazuichi like he isn’t even there.

But when he actually glances up, eyes dim under the sunlight above, it’s nothing like that.

He’s just a guy. Tall, a bit gangly, caught between awkward teenage posture and wisps of an attempt at facial hair under his jawline. His lips barely purse in the small shift from his natural, relaxed state, suggesting the idea that he’s paying quite close attention, but his eyes are so intense. He’s looking hard at Kazuichi, and there’s a slight twitch to his eyelid where a ripple of surprise is still making some impact, and it gives him an unusually earnest touch to his expression. Where Kazuichi had expected, maybe even hoped, to see a glorious figure of an overlord, is just a seventeen year-old boy.

Wordy in his own inner monologue, the comparisons within his thoughts border on poetic; Kazuichi’s self-reflection has become disgustingly extravagant, and if only to give the barest hint of a thank-you to Gundham, who’s exercised the kind of compassion that he’d been searching for from anyone who had ever bothered to give him the time of day, he commits an indulgence.

Shyly, Kazuichi wraps a stray lock of hair around his finger, then tucks it back under his hat.

“I...guess we shouldn’t let this emissary of darkness go unpunished. Let’s go and...exact some divine retribution on a wretched soul...okay?”

Gundham stares at him wordlessly.

Chapter Text

About fifteen minutes of very silently wandering around the island eventually lands them solidly on Nekomaru’s turf. The crackling of nerves, fizzing uncertainty, is something Kazuichi hasn’t felt so strongly since his middle school days. He can’t say it’s necessarily Gundham’s fault, but he’s certainly the root cause. At first, he’s thankful to have the extra company to distract him, but it’s all meat-headed, athletic dialogue, so it gets old very quickly. Akane’s presence isn’t much of a conversational pick-me-up either.

It’s not their strongest lead, but whilst Hiyoko still remains a fugitive, they’re going to have to take what they can get. The small portion of beach on the first island seems to be Nekomaru’s main base of operations, and when they stumble through the sand, kicking up broken shells and bits of seaweed in a tiresome huff, they find themselves right in the middle of one of his...lectures? Sessions? Whatever it is, it involves yelling at Akane amongst other strenuous activities.

“C’mon! If you’ve got time to sit and pick your nose, you’ve got time to train! I’m not gonna let you slack off, Akane, you’ve got plenty more work to do!”

Akane, wiping something unmentionable from her fingers on the back of her skirt, looks impressively unfazed. Judging by the patches of sand up the sides of her legs and in her hair, she’s been rolling around on the ground for one reason or another. Kazuichi always thought gymnasts were supposed to be lithe and delicate, but Akane is a strapping, five-foot seven hunk of ham with hands bigger than his own, and thighs thick enough to crush cinder-blocks. She looks like she could readily compete in a third of Olympic sports, but her only real desire seems to be meat.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Akane drawls, her absentminded gaze listless over the swaying horizon. “Gimme a break, coach, I haven’t eaten since lunch!”

“Lunch was barely even an hour ago! You’re not gettin’ out of this that easy! Now, c’mon, let me see some sweat! Let me see some tears! Let me see some work!”

Nekomaru is so convincing in his coaching that through words alone, Kazuichi is feeling himself begin to work up a sweat. The sun is bearing down on them from directly overhead, and though he can tell the digital world has kindly reduced the expected temperature by a fraction, just it being there gives the place this illusion of a boiling heat. Gundham, standing about a foot in front of him, doesn’t seem bothered by it even in his heavy jacket. His dark figure stands out boldly against the ripples of peach-coloured sand, so it doesn’t take long for Nekomaru to notice him.

“Gundham!” he roars, a wide grin plastered over his face. “Y’came just in time! Up for a bit of afternoon training, are we? A few laps around the beach should put a bit of muscle on those legs of yours! Hahah, maybe you’ll even get a bit of colour on your cheeks as well.”

Gundham might dress like a basement-dwelling, gym-skipping nerd, and there may be some truth to the latter part of that idea, but he’s far from weedy. In the face of such a boisterous force like Nekomaru, Kazuichi would expect a guy like him to reject any and all advances for physical activity, but there’s something rather refreshing about the way he humours him. Did these two always get along…?

“I’m afraid not,” Gundham replies with a chuckle far more condescending than the situation really calls for. “As you well know, I do not train with mortals. To train alongside me is to risk your life; if I were to exert the power of my left arm in the presence of such fragility, there’s no guarantee your soul would escape in one piece. If you wish to see the light of heaven, you’d be wise to heed my caution.”

Nekomaru just laughs. It’s not in a mean way or in a way where he understands what’s being said, but purely because he’s entertained by the raw spirit Gundham seems to bring to their conversations. It may be a refusal, but Nekomaru doesn’t really take no for an answer. With a bellow of laughter, he claps an enormous hand to his stomach.

“Gyahah, I’ll get you some other time then! Don’t think you can shake me off so easily! All abilities need practice, and if you can’t stretch yourself out a little here then what kind of coach am I, eh? Now, you’re just lucky this little idiot is taking up so much of my time, or I’ll have you swimming from here back to Japan!”

Akane’s face crinkles, but clearly the insult has passed her by when her chief complaint is, “No way, you can’t swim from here back to Japan! That would be so boring!” Not impossible, which it very much is. Just boring. Her conviction in her priorities is unparalleled.

Gundham shuffles on the spot, a touch of anxious energy to the way his fingers twitch, but his smirk remains. Tugging down at his scarf with a flash of brightness, he replies, “I promise you, I have no need of your expertise. My battles with the celestial demon beast Ursa Major is more than sufficient training in my case.”

“Oh, right! How is that bear doing? A lot less angry, I hope!”

Kazuichi’s eyes bulge with alarm, a stark contrast to Gundham’s cool chuckle, though there’s a tinge of hesitancy to his inaudible response that paints a frightening picture of a problem that Kazuichi has absolutely no context for. What the hell kind of situation did that turn out to be? And, why does it sound like Nekomaru got involved with it?

Kazuichi’s daydreaming about the kinds of cartoonish havoc a bear could wreak takes him away from the conversation for a moment, and when he tunes back in, Nekomaru is staring at him with a big, expectant smile. He shakes his head suddenly, an indication of his wandering mind.

“Wh--! Huh? What?”

“I said, I wasn’t expecting to see you here either!” Nekomaru repeats, leaning over a bit to peer at Kazuichi’s face. “Y’know, looking at you now, I think you’ve got the same problem as him! You could benefit from a bit of coaching, too.” He says this whilst pointing rather aggressively in Gundham’s direction. Gundham imperceptibly inches backwards.

“Y’what?” Kazuichi mutters, an eyebrow hiking up over his forehead. “I don’t follow.”

Nekomaru’s muscles visibly ripple even through his clothes when he folds his arms, and he begins to pace languidly. With that posture and tone of voice, he really does look like a teacher. Something about the atmosphere he brings to the table makes Kazuichi want to listen to him. Akane, on the other hand, is seemingly impervious to it, because she’s now reclining on the beach and picking grossly at her ear.

“You and Gundham, you’re both the same. Although you’re not doing proper exercise, your work is giving you a good bit of muscle here and there. It’s pretty unrefined, but I can see where your strength is building. If you got into some specialist training, you’d be shocked at how much improvement you’ll see in only a short span of time.”

To aid his thrilling lecture, he begins to poke roughly at Kazuichi’s body, plucking him by the wrist and holding his arm aloft. Compared to Nekomaru, he’s basically a rag-doll, and his whining protest falls on deaf ears as Nekomaru continues talking.

“See, I can tell you’ve got it in your arms. Right here, look-” he then gives Kazuichi’s bicep the kind of firm squeeze that has him biting back a squeal, “-you’ve got some good, raw power here. I’d reckon all your work around the shop has you lifting things on a pretty regular basis, right? If you funnelled a bit of effort and pushed yourself even further, you’d have the kind of upper body strength that could take you a long way in all sorts of sports. Now, compare that to Gundham…”

Gundham just looks away, and folds his arms defensively. If Nekomaru’s thinking about poking and prodding him next, he’s going to have to think again. Nekomaru, for all his tenacious density, takes the hint without fuss.

“I wouldn’t say he’s totally lacking in upper body strength, but he’s got a lot of power in those legs of his. There’s some good muscle definition there. I’d actually say he’d make for a good endurance athlete. Running around all day and chasing after animals would put your legs in good shape, but it’s the stamina that really counts. Doing all that for as long as you have, Gundham, has given you a real advantage.”

It’s not something Kazuichi has ever thought about, and it prompts him to start looking down at himself, feeling at the muscles around his arm and shoulder. He’s fussed over his appearance plenty in the past, but never to the point of analysing his own body to this extent. He’s always been a simple kind of guy. Not necessarily happy, but simple. Juvenile in what he deems acceptable; so long as he’s not the shortest guy in class and his dick is at least the same size as whoever’s sitting next to him in the bathhouse, he really doesn’t give a shit. Thinking about muscles is beyond him. Being the kind of picture of strength that Nekomaru is was a dream he gave up on long before middle school. Is he really that much better off than he thought?

He’s right about Gundham, too, though they’ve clearly had this conversation before because Gundham looks bored and reluctant to point out the trivial inaccuracies regarding his day-to-day life. Nekomaru laughs boisterously, and Gundham neatly sidesteps a hearty clap on the shoulder.

“All I’m saying,” Nekomaru grins, “is that there’s no downsides to you both putting in a little work here and there. The fact you’ve both got the right foundations only makes it easier! I mean, I’d never turn down a student, but Nagito is so scrawny that we’d have to start completely from scratch with him! Maybe he’d make a good, oh, I dunno, maybe a Frisbee champion or something...”

The mind boggles. It’s not the most unpleasant visual image, but seeing Nagito’s smiling face plastered over it is disconcerting. Kazuichi shakes it off, realising now that this is a very effective and long-winded approach to roping him into whatever Nekomaru has planned for this afternoon. Stammering, he’s able to cut Nekomaru off before he can fall prey to his well-intentioned tactics.

“Ah, I-- we’re a little busy today, actually…”

“Yeah, and I hear that every single day,” Nekomaru grunts, jabbing a finger in Akane’s direction. She’s making a pitiful sandcastle in the shape of a crab, but the wanting look in her eyes strikes the debate of whether or not she’s going to try eating it. “I’ll let you go just this once, but let me tell you, one session of training with me, and you’ll never want to go back! There’s a few added perks here and there, too…”

Despite not being Nekomaru’s insinuation in the slightest, Kazuichi is appalled by himself at the way his own gaze drops about a foot to linger over the offensively large bulge in his trousers. The only attempt he makes to combat that flagrant foray into bisexuality is a petulant refusal to admit that that’s exactly what it is. He’s so unconvinced by himself and ashamed at how transparent he is that for a moment, he really considers just giving into Nekomaru’s demands and going for a run. If you can’t deny the thoughts, you can always run away from them.

“Oh, yeah,” Akane chimes in, as if to salt Kazuichi’s self-betrayal. “Nekomaru is super good at massage. Man, you gotta try it, it’s an experience! There’s no way I could live without it, I think I’d, like, die or something.”

Hard to believe she’d die from a lack of having her muscles tenderised like a pork loin, but the more people talk about it, the more intrigued Kazuichi finds himself becoming. Not that he’s explicitly keen on a hulking man like Nekomaru getting to work on him, but...well, there’s no point thinking about it now. They’re getting sidetracked. Discovering the delights of massage does not sound like a path to finding their vanishing door.

“Our quest takes us not into your realm of abilities, you who calls forth lightning,” Gundham bristles impatiently, having come to the same conclusion as Kazuichi. “We are in search of the front door to my abode which was taken from me only just last night. Now, speak! Whilst I do not suspect you, I pray you have the answers I’m searching for.”

Nekomaru begins to pick at his nose with a passing look of disinterest. Cycling through his memories of the last twelve hours, his thinking face is not even remotely convincing, and leaves a lot to be desired. However, Nekomaru wouldn’t half-arse anything that would benefit other people, so he’s caught in his thoughts for quite a while.

“Y’know,” he murmurs. “I feel like...I saw something weird earlier. I don’t know what kind of idiot goes around stealing people’s doors though, that’s going way to far! Akane! You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

Akane just scoffs, kicking over her shoddily constructed sand crab. “What the hell would I need a door for? I’ve already got one at my cottage! I don’t need two.”

Kazuichi squints, but takes her word for it. Akane is way too simple and straightforward to bother with a plan that doesn’t involve punching whatever the problem is in that moment. To take someone’s door sounds like a premeditated plan, and a plan that could take just a single braincell to cobble together is already far out of Akane’s capabilities.

“Cease for just a moment, what is this weird thing you saw?” Gundham grumbles, waving a hand suddenly to dispel the distraction. “Was it early this morning?”

Nekomaru folds his arms. “It was, but not too early. See, I took a jog around the islands before I dragged Akane down here for training. I’d say we got here around ten o’clock this morning, and out in the distance, I thought I saw something like...a boat?”

“A boat?”

“I couldn’t say for sure, but it was something I saw floating in the water over towards the horizon,” he explains, throwing a firm finger out to where the glistening of the ocean waves meets the bright blue of the sky. “I s’pose a boat wouldn’t make much sense if we’re in a virtual world, right? So, I don’t really know what it was. I don’t really know how these things work, to be honest with you.”

Kazuichi looks down at where his shuffling in the sand has created a flurry of patterns from the soles of his shoes, as well as his untied shoelaces. He bends down to scruffily tie them back up. Ten o’clock would’ve been around the time Gundham was helping him build the replacement door for his cottage. On top of that, Nekomaru makes a valid point. There shouldn’t be any bypassing boats in this simulation of Jabberwock Island, nor should there be any people other than them. That makes the potential for outside influence impossible. Whatever drifted out to sea was from these islands for sure.

It’s not a huge amount to go on, but it’s painting just a little more of the picture for them. Kazuichi feels like they’re going somewhat in the right direction, and an actual contribution to their investigation is a nice change of pace. Though still a little beaten down by a niggling anxiety lingering in the back of his head, and looking at Gundham about it doesn’t help, there’s a sparkle of hope in Kazuichi’s eyes.

That sparkle that lasts a measly fifteen seconds when Nekomaru clamps a menacing hand on each of their shoulders and tells them, “Hey, now, you didn’t think that information was gonna be free, did you? In return for my help, I’d say I’m owed at least one favour...”

“A wheelbarrow race?”

The small crab that briefly runs over Kazuichi’s foot hastily burrows itself into the sand, and he feels a sting of envy for a lucky little creature able to hide from its problems. The worst part about owing Nekomaru any kind of favour is that he’s automatically stronger and faster, so there’s no outrunning him and no fighting back. There’s only exhausted, reluctant submission, and a simple favour is fine, but what the hell is he talking about? Kazuichi hasn’t done a wheelbarrow race since elementary school. Isn’t that just a playground game?

Nekomaru swipes a thumb under his nose, his wide grin hiding the kind of jaw-strength that could crack concrete. “Just one, and the rules are simple! We race all the way to that palm tree over there,” he pauses to point out the goalpost, “and then switch over and race all the way back! So, ideally, we’ll all get a turn running and…uh, wheelbarrowing, I guess. Sound good?”

“No,” Kazuichi replies plainly. “Not at all, but if we have to…”

“Alright!” Akane cheers, rejuvenated in her spirit as she flings her arms up into the air. “Now, this sounds like way more fun! I call first go on being the wheelbarrow! Nekomaru, you’re with me, right? We can crush these chumps no problem!”

The chumps in question both quirk a brow, and if their complete disinterest in this childishness won’t help bring them round to the idea, the simmering wave of competitiveness that overtakes them just might instead. Kazuichi won’t take being insulted lightly by an idiot with more boobs than brain, and his new temporary goal has just become making Akane eat her words and perhaps a little bit of sand on the side. Glancing over his shoulder at Gundham, the feeling seems to be mutual. There’s a darkness to his eyes that wants to rise to the challenge.

Kazuichi doesn’t quite know what to say here. The terms have already been agreed upon, but teaming up with Gundham isn’t something he’s ever thought about doing seriously. After the ego battering he’d taken outside the hospital, he’s a little delicate, so when the thought of working hard for both their sakes brings not the usual nauseating distaste, but a surprising little fizz, Kazuichi baulks. Well, if it’s mindless, jockish athleticism Nekomaru is wanting, that’s even more of a reason to turn his brain off. Maybe Akane’s been having the right idea all along…

“Here, why...why don’t I carry you first?” Kazuichi coughs awkwardly, giving Gundham a gentle nudge on the arm. “If you’re better at running than I am, it’s probably a good idea to have you run last, right?”

Gundham sighs, still not totally satisfied with the situation he’s finding himself in, but he’s not left with much choice. He begins to tuck the loose drapes of his scarf beneath his jacket, murmuring, “That seems like the sensible plan. My warning to you, sharp-tooth, is don’t let us down. I can’t abide being insulted by a mortal with meat for brains, so our only option is to emerge victorious. Understand?”

Kazuichi, in his old fashion, wants to tell him that brains are already meat in their own right, but he’s a little too taken by how vicious Gundham’s drive is. The guy’s ambitions are arbitrary at best when it comes to other people, making a decent back-and-forth between battling with all of his might and swanning off indifferently. Really, that should be an incredibly annoying trait, but Gundham makes it look so...good.

“You got it,” Kazuichi grins. “I’ll run like my life depends on it!”

“See that you do,” Gundham whispers, a dark smile gradually pulling at his cheeks as he inches over Kazuichi. “Because that very well may be the case.”

Kazuichi blinks, eyes bulging and mouth snapped shut, and in any other circumstance, he would be complaining, but...there’s something about it. It’s not quite the same as Sonia snapping an order at him, the kind that has him stood to a burning attention in seconds. For a threat, it sounds so mockingly merciful. It’s like Gundham is making fun of him, and that adds even more weight to his words. Before he can dig any deeper into the sizzling feeling running up his throat, his brain politely turns itself off to save Kazuichi the trouble of wondering how he’s gonna run anywhere with a tent in his pants.

Akane and Nekomaru make themselves ready with haste; Akane seems impossibly light balancing on her hands that when she hops her weight around on them, it’s like she’s floating. When Gundham finally gets down, allowing Kazuichi to hoist him up under the knees, their lack of refinement shines clearly. Still, Kazuichi thinks he’s starting to get the idea of what Nekomaru was going on about. After all, Gundham weighs a little more than he does, and the weight distribution in this position is awkward enough without the addition of his jacket, but Kazuichi’s arms don’t suffer for it. Maybe he is more used to this than he thought. This might be the only good news he’s had all day.

Gundham grunts quietly, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to get comfortable in the position he’s in, but his arms just aren’t used to the pressure. His legs are impossibly long as well, so there’s no comfort on the back half when Kazuichi is struggling to hold them at a comfortable height. It’s not the greatest start for them, but how the hell are Nekomaru and Akane going to fare when they’re made to switch? They just might have a shot at this after all.

“You alright down there?” Kazuichi leans to one side, hoping to glimpse the side of Gundham’s face. He gets a wheezy sigh in response, and something that sounds a bit like ‘I’m fine’. There’s already a cluster of handprints in the sand where Gundham is shuffling around indecisively.

“Alright!” Nekomaru roars, scaring a flock of nearby seagulls. “You know how the game goes! We race there and back, and the first one back to this starting point wins!”

“Are there…any other rules?” Gundham coughs, discomfort setting a hard crease between his eyes. He pulls back onto his right arm in order to give his left arm a bit of a shake, and an inattentive Kazuichi nearly topples over.

“Nope! Switch when you get to the palm tree, and do your best! That’s all there is to it! Ready…?”

All four participants brace themselves, and Kazuichi has a single seconds worth of distraction of really being able to feel the muscle tension in Gundham’s thighs before the race begins. There’s no gunshot to signal the start like there would be at a sports festival, but Nekomaru’s bellowing tone is likely just as loud. A frightened Kazuichi jumps almost a foot into the air before he’s made to start running.

It’s not a good start, and it’s certainly not a pretty sight. Running through sand is like hell, bumpy and uneven, and uncomfortable as it is, Kazuichi knows he’s going to have to power through the sahara of sand that’s building up in his shoes. It’s not just a flat race either, since the litter of seashells and seaweed across the beach turn it into more of an obstacle course. Gundham is really doing his best, and their pace isn’t bad, but Nekomaru and Akane are absolutely flying past. The way she brings herself up off the ground makes it look like she’s swimming through air. Nekomaru is charging at full force, and that’s all well and good for them, but Kazuichi’s mechanical mind is wondering how efficiently they’re going to be able to stop. Maybe that’ll be his point of advantage.

He feels a little bad for overworking his partner, but he begins to pick up the pace, hoping that if he can shorten the distance between the two teams, Gundham will have a better chance of overtaking them on the way back. His arms are starting to burn though, so if he wants to pull his weight, he’s going to have to scramble like fuck. It’s gearing up to be incredibly unpleasant. He’s already got sand in his shoes, he doesn’t need any in his face either.

As they approach the palm tree, Kazuichi can feel that lead-like weight pulling him down, making his legs feel useless. Blasting through it with all of his strength grants him about three metres of distance between him and Nekomaru, but when the opposing team reach the palm tree and switch over, it all becomes a bit of a mess.

He’d been right, they stop pretty sharply and skid in the process, but that means dick all when Nekomaru gets on his hands and Akane jumps straight onto his back like some sort of horrible rodeo. There’s something overall disturbing about the sight of it, but all he can do is screech. How the hell is that fair? Riding on his back is totally against the rules of a wheelbarrow race, you can’t just do that. His complaint, however, gets only halfway out of his mouth before he and Gundham reach the palm tree, and in one swift motion, Kazuichi finds himself swept off of his feet.

It’s weird. One moment, he’s feeling the sun roasting the back of his neck, and the next, he’s feeling the breeze running through his hair and brushing over his reddened face. He clings to the first thing he can grab, and his arms land awkwardly around his partners neck, where the barest bit of skin he can feel is burning hot. With an almighty hoist, Kazuichi is settled abruptly into his Gundham’s arms as he begins to pelt through the sand with palpable ferocity.

They’re going so fast. All Kazuichi can do is hold on, his legs shuddering with every bounding step Gundham takes, and the tension of Gundham’s posture is causing him to pull Kazuichi tightly against his chest. For the next thirty seconds, Kazuichi doesn’t even risk a breath, but his eyes sparkle at the sight of the beach racing past them, and the comfort of resting his head in the crook of someone’s neck. Whether or not it’s the exhilaration of the race or the tropical breeze getting to him, the seaside has never looked so gorgeous. That’s why, even with the warmth of Gundham’s breath tickling at his face, he doesn’t dare look up.

Chapter Text

“Well, I guess you beat us this time, but only by a hair! Next time, we won’t make it so easy. But, didn’t that feel good? A little run-around got your blood pumping? Now, go find your door! You won’t get anywhere unless you put some work into it!”

That’s what Nekomaru had said as Kazuichi and Gundham had begun to drag themselves off the beach and back to the roadside, covered in sand and sweat. In the moment, their hair-width victory had felt immensely satisfying, but the climate is far too warm to celebrate when they’re both wearing at least two layers each; Kazuichi can feel the chill of the patches of sweat on his underarms, and he shivers. Nekomaru is such a dumbass, but not as much as he feels having gotten so into the spirit of it.

He tentatively glances over at Gundham, who has splotches of lilac covering his cheeks, his breathlessness gradually fading away as he tugs his scarf a little off his neck. He’s gently shaking his left arm, and his expression is unusually crumpled, like a piece of paper. He blinks awkwardly every couple of seconds.

Kazuichi shoves his hat into his pocket, embracing the pleasant, cool sensation of the sweat on his scalp drying. “Are you alright? That was such a pain, but at least we got a win out of it,” he chuckles, a faint twitch of nervousness to the crackle in his voice.

“...I’m fine,” Gundham replies. “That was…quite the challenge, keeping my full strength suitably contained within this mortal vessel. It takes some…some precision to balance my powers out. That’s why, I...uh…”

He turns away, his head hanging forward as he trails off into uncertainty. Kazuichi’s first thought is a spark of panic, hoping that the idiot hadn’t overdone himself and worked himself into heatstroke. Is that still possible in this virtual world? Damage is still very real, and pain is as pain ever was. If it wasn’t, Mikan would be out of a job, but the limitations of this world are still uncertain. He worries for a second that Gundham might just collapse on the spot, but when he sidles up to meet him, the guy is running a finger over his eyelid carefully.

At the risk of repeating himself, he hesitantly asks, “Are...you good?”

Gundham pauses, a few wide blinks pass, and fussing with the tip of his finger, he quietly says, “I...think I got sand in my eye.”

A natural irritation, but Kazuichi would’ve expected some grandiose accompaniment to such a revelation. Aren’t earthly grains of sand poison to his retinas or something? Will his power level be diminished by this curse of the gods? Kazuichi’s silent mocking is more good-natured than it’s been in the past, but the normalcy in Gundham’s voice strikes him as pointedly abnormal. With a flash of realisation, it hits him, and without thinking, Kazuichi reaches up to gently tilt Gundham’s head to the side.

“Oh, wait, did you get sand behind your contact lens? Hold on, stay still…”

Gundham flinches and chokes, “Wait, don’t—”

“Don’t move,” Kazuichi demands, too busy inspecting Gundham’s face to realise he’s speaking with such assertion. If he’d realised at all, he might’ve noticed Gundham’s uncharacteristic submission, holding himself still with a tightly-held breath as he allows Kazuichi to take a look. However, his tolerance is still far too short, and it only takes a few seconds for him to crack and bat Kazuichi away.

“I just need to take it out,” he says grimly, attempting to fish the contact lens out with the pad of his finger. “I don’t need you...poking around at my eyes…” He does his best to sound as biting as possible, but when a self-proclaimed overlord is trying to remove an aesthetic contact lens without a mirror, it doesn’t have the same sort of sting.

“You should probably wash your eye out as well,” Kazuichi tells him, squinting through the harsh sunlight to watch him closely. “Here, let’s head back to the cottages for now and get you to a sink. I get crap in my contacts all the time, it fucking sucks.”

He makes a move to gently goad Gundham in the right direction, a bit like herding a sheep, but Gundham only takes a few very slow steps, pausing to carefully tug at his eyelid and dislodge the lens. Pulling it out, he grimaces and rolls his left shoulder around with something that looks a bit like impatience. After a hiss and a short sigh, his figure sags.

“Oh...shit, I tore it.”

Spoken like a true mortal. Kazuichi just blinks in mild surprise, and all he can make out of the lens is the small dot of red sitting on Gundham’s fingertip. Regardless, it doesn’t stop him from his continued effort to ferry Gundham off in the direction of running water, so he carries on pacing slowly behind him. Gundham pockets the broken lens, and a rumble of ire gathers in his throat as he begins to stalk back to the cottages, his irritated eye still twitching.

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” Kazuichi tells him, breaking out into a short jog to catch up with his sudden haste. The easygoing smile on his face is a stark contrast to Gundham’s sourness. “You’ve got spare ones, right?”

It takes a minute or so for them to reach the gate that borders the cluster of cottages surrounding the hotel, and it’s only then does Gundham reply moodily, “Since we didn’t bring anything with us here, no, I don’t.”

“Oh, right. I mean, the supermarket is bound to have—”

“That’s not the point,” Gundham cuts in, stopping so suddenly that Kazuichi nearly walks into the back of him. “You...you don’t understand what peril you’re in. What may be a contact lens to you is a shield that prevents you from succumbing to my dark forces. That...barrier I maintained in order to make contact with you during that frivolous race is now gone. It’s best you keep your distance.”

Kazuichi swallows, watching his face closely. If he scrambles his brain enough, what he can glean from that verbal barrage is that...Gundham’s social battery might be depleted. Thinking on it now, Kazuichi had completely overlooked his usual aversion to physical contact, so it does strike him as unusual that he went to such lengths to partake in the wheelbarrow race. Kazuichi chokes for a second, shaking off the memory of being carried like a bride over the finish line, and decides that since Gundham offered him a shred of much-needed mercy earlier that day, returning the favour is a natural course of action. Now, without his supposed shield, his baleful demeanour is rendered flat and without real malice, and even the dense Kazuichi can connect the dots.

What’s said is ‘my powers are growing out of control from overuse and you should back off’, but what’s meant is ‘I got too distracted by what we did and now I’m tired, my things are broken, and I want to go home’.

In mortal language, it’s a lot more endearing. When it’s easier to understand, it’s easier to help with, and at the risk of looking disingenuous, Kazuichi gives him a small smile.

“Head back to your cottage and get the sand out of your eye. Just...give me a minute, alright?”

With that, purposeful in not giving Gundham any time to refuse, he darts off into his own cottage and swings the door shut behind him. He’s in no rush. Gundham might be a little more receptive once he’s sorted out the main problem, so for the following five minutes, Kazuichi mills about his cottage and loosely organises his belongings. He kicks the bag of tools left by the door somewhere near his toolbox, and sifts through the contents of his bathroom until he finds what he’s looking for. For a few extra minutes, he paces by the front door, which is a little embarrassing when he thinks about it. Overeager, as always. The thought almost stops him in his tracks, but he makes a firm effort to shake it off.

Throwing the door open again, he steps out, makes a sharp left turn, and makes his way to Gundham’s cottage. The surfboard is...working. It’s working better than nothing anyway, but he can hear movement from within much clearer than he can from any other cottage. Tentatively, he reaches over and knocks on the door-frame.

Knowing Gundham won’t answer if he’s not feeling like it, he makes sure to call, “Hey, before you burrow into your little...animal den, I’ve got something for you.”

A moment passes, filled with faint shuffling around, a few shudders and what sounds like very quiet grumbling, but Kazuichi is not left unanswered. The door swings open, wobbling a bit as it does so, and Gundham watches him with a distinct lack of patience bleeding from his eyes. Before he can open his mouth to dispel Kazuichi’s presence, Kazuichi holds something out for him to take.

Suspiciously, he asks, “What’s this?”

The flat grey item sits neatly in his palm, and when he pries it open with a shift of his fingertips, the crease between his eyes deepens.

“Well,” Kazuichi begins, scratching the back of his head. “You said you...needed that shield to spare everyone from your, erm...dark forces, right? It might be a bit brighter than your usual ones, but, I, uh…I don’t mind if you use mine until you get new ones. I mean, it’s...important, isn’t it?”

If he speaks too hesitantly, it might sound like he’s making fun of him, but he’s really trying to be genuine here. This isn’t a matter of whether or not he believes what Gundham says. Irrelevant of the facts, what’s important is what’s important. Gundham stares down at the contact lens case with a thought brewing on his lips that Kazuichi can’t quite ascertain. A gesture like this might just insult the guy, but at least Kazuichi can say he tried. He could just turn on his heel right now and leave Gundham to it, allowing the fate of his goodwill to be shrouded in mystery, but he’s compelled. With more intrigue than he’s had before, he wants to hear what Gundham has to say. Selfishly, he wants to find out if his deduction is correct.

Gundham really takes a while to reply. He’s normally so quick on the draw for a grand response, and if not that then a sharp remark, but he’s really mulling it over. Kazuichi tries not to look impatient, and after some chewing on his lip, Gundham finally speaks.

“This...is more consideration for your fellow mortals than I expected from you,” he replies softly. “Whilst I can’t say I understand you, I...see some merit in your efforts. Coming here in person was not a wise choice, but it seems as if you’ve been able to escape unscathed. For that, I am at least...satisfied.”

His words falter like an admission, and it’s because it is, when Kazuichi begins to prune away the flowery language and spell it out. After all, he speaks so often of hurting the people around him should the circumstances grow so dire, but really, all he’s trying to say is that when the day has taken a turn for the worse, he doesn’t want his temper to get the better of him. To save everyone the trouble of an overwhelmed outburst, isn’t it easier to just remove yourself from the equation?

Somehow, there’s something a little sad about it. His concealed thanks is notably subdued.

Kazuichi awkwardly shuffles where he’s standing, gently scuffing the tips of his trainers by kicking at the slats of wooden decking. He’s normally a lot better at receiving thanks than this, so he’s unsure of what to do. He doesn’t know what’s suddenly changed. All he can do is eye the gaps in the planks beneath him.

“Erm, it’s okay. Really. I mean, a broken door is a big enough problem to deal with. You don’t really want a whole other thing on top of that, huh?”

Gundham pauses, clicking the case shut and placing it somewhere off to the side behind the door. “Solving that predicament is my highest priority at the moment, so these...unnecessary hurdles are a nuisance.” He then folds his arms and inspects Kazuichi’s face with some budding interest. “So, what of you? It seems you feel some need to shield other mortals from your gaze as well.”

Oh, right, the contacts. Kazuichi cringes a little, a pitiable half-smile playing on his face. Even if he made up some reason he has for wearing them, it would probably come out incredibly stupid. Running his fingers through the scruffy patch of hair on the side of his head, he admits, “Not really. I just thought it was kind of cool. I mean, when I was changing everything up, I thought it would make me look a bit wilder and keep people away.”

“So, it’s a protective barrier? I see…”

Kazuichi wants to say that Gundham has completely the wrong idea about it, but when he says it like that, well, it kind of makes sense. They’d spoken of this before, Kazuichi comparing his likeness to the markings of a poisonous creature, but he’d never entertained the idea of it acting as a barrier. It was always meant to be a warning. After all, real men act on the offensive, right? If all of his efforts are to escape a life of self-solitude and cowardice, then this can’t possibly be a defensive strategy.

There’s a flash of a moment where Kazuichi thinks he’s just figured something out, but it fades just as quickly as it came. To sate his itching tongue, burdened by the overactive fizzing of his brain, he murmurs, “For whatever reason, I just like it. It matches my hair, and it’s a lot flashier than my glasses. I guess that’s all I need.”

Gundham’s lower eyelid flickers for a second, and he asks, “These aren’t prescription lenses, are they?”

“Nah. I mean, I do have real ones somewhere, but…”

Gundham’s expression can only be described as disapproving, and he takes a second to stretch out and shake his left arm a little, a moment of discomfort pulling at his lips. “I can’t imagine that’s particularly beneficial to your mortal health.”

Kazuichi can’t really argue. He’s right, which is always a tough pill to swallow. He’s got no choice but to laugh it off and play the idiot card, which he’s gotten pretty good at doing recently. It’s still a huge loss of self-respect when he does it, so the fatigue in his eyes intensifies. “Yeah, I know,” he chuckles lamely. “You’d think with all the headaches-- I mean, this is why I always look like I’m squinting.” He rubs at his eyes for a bit of added emphasis, and a ripple of pressure seeps through the bridge of his nose. “It’s ‘cos I can barely see shit half the time. I mean, I’m not blind, but—”

“H-how dire!” Gundham exclaims, extending a finger in Kazuichi’s direction with wide eyes. “You mean to say you’ve been forced to sacrifice your senses in order to keep your enemies at bay? It seems mortals have greater struggles in this realm than I thought.”

Kazuichi pauses for a beat, and then deflates slightly. “I, uh...yeah. I guess,” he says, knowing that the solution to this problem is underwhelming. It’s not like he even hates wearing his glasses, but that part of him is so far in the past now that putting them back on just feels strange. Home is the only place wearing them feels comfortable, which is apt when his daily routine will have him removing his contact lenses before he steps foot into his father’s shop. Fucking up his hair was bad enough, any more and it’ll just be unnecessary vanity in his eyes. He’s not looking to get ridiculed at home as well as at school.

“Your astral level is quite low,” Gundham tells him with a twinge of discomfort passing over his features; his fingers flex with each ripple through his expression. “Even so, this is more power than I could’ve anticipated. I’ll consider this gesture a suitable payment for me carrying you through that pitiful race.”

“Dude, what is wrong with your arm?” Kazuichi frowns, leaning back to make a show of looking him up and down, particularly his fidgety left arm that’s having trouble keeping still. “Are you, like...injured?”

A brief series of thoughts run quite clearly over Gundham’s face for a second, balancing between mild surprise and petulant reluctance. When he draws his lips to one side in consideration, it almost looks like a pout. His mouth disappears under the scarf piled around his neck before Kazuichi can pick anything else out.

“It’s...not injured,” he insists stiffly. “Not really. It’s just a bit tense. That, and...I got-- I think I got sand under my bandages.” He takes a moment to demonstrate, giving his arm a shake and allowing a cloud of loose grains to fall out. His tone is terse, but there’s something fond about the way he says, “That idiotic wielder of lightning… Next time he tries to beg for my presence in his training, I’ll bury him ten feet under the beach. That should keep him entertained.”

Kazuichi stifles a laugh, the thought of Nekomaru’s raucous bellowing rumbling from beneath the shoreline painting a very silly picture in his head. Maybe Akane could dig him up like some sort of tracker dog. Surely, that constitutes training of some kind, right? Satisfying and snaring Nekomaru in one fell swoop, it’ll be like hitting two birds with one stone.

“I mean, I won’t stop you,” Kazuichi tells him, biting back a grin. “I don’t think I could, but...if you want, I could, erm...help you. With your bandages, I mean. Like, I’m not Mikan, but… Wait, actually, that might be a good thing.”

It feels like their conversations have become different, and that the Gundham he’s been chatting to has changed slightly, but the self-proclaimed dark overlord’s penchant for wariness has not faded. Gundham’s eyes narrow, running up and down Kazuichi’s figure as if searching his entire body for any sign of a threat. Kazuichi is immediately inclined to feel insulted, but he realises that Gundham taking the half-second to even consider it, which is more than he’d normally do, is something of a...victory? Can he call it a victory? If he says it like that, it makes it sound like he’d been hoping for this outcome. Well, he did offer, but that doesn’t mean he actually wanted to…

He’s rambling internally in such a frenzy that he almost misses Gundham’s curt reply of, “There’s no need. I’m more than capable of handling such a task myself. I do not need to put myself in a position of obligation to you.”

Before he has the sense to hide it, Kazuichi jolts with a flash of disappointment. When he opens his mouth to respond, his tongue lingers against the back of his teeth and stays there for a second. There’s no refusing a refusal of help, it just looks desperate and often very suspicious. He’s not upset about being turned down, but the reasoning behind it tugs on a nerve. His over-plucked eyebrows cast a firm slant upon his forehead when he scowls up at Gundham.

“That’s...not why I’m doing this, dude. Don’t make it out like I’m just trying to get a favour out of you. I’m just trying to be, y’know...helpful.”

He almost says ‘nice’, but catches himself at the last minute. The idea of stubbornly using up his favour in this instance, asserting himself unfairly over the situation, crosses his mind with far more temptation than he’d like to admit. Gundham is still liable to refuse, however, so there’s little chance it would actually work.

Casting a sudden shadow over the conversation, Gundham thickly replies, “You’ve been very persistent in helping today.”

Something unidentifiable drips from his accusation, and it sends alarm bells ringing, provoking Kazuichi’s flight response. Just like earlier, he finds himself freezing up, his fingers locking in place and his throat suddenly full of nerves. Every possible response flies through his head, but none suggest themselves, so it just feels like an overwhelming blur of words and noise. What kind of picture does persistence paint of him? Somehow, he thinks he can catch a faint scent of Sonia’s perfume on the wind, and his knees weaken. If she were to turn up, would Gundham accept her aid instead? Sonia is just so kind, her offer would go without saying, and what authority would Gundham have to refuse?

The very picture of it is theatrical; a graceful princess lending a kind hand to a malevolent teenage force with no concern for her own wellbeing. Her wish to help radiating a purity that banishes the barrier that keeps her from him, and as if her conceptual existence is shedding light on Kazuichi’s own emotional defences, he wonders for a second just who it is out of the two of them that he’s jealous of.

Looking up at Gundham, unable to respond, Kazuichi feels overly aware of his own squint. It triggers the kind of self-consciousness that’s become warm and comfortable over time, having held his hand all through middle school, and even a few years earlier than that. Though he vowed never to live another day like that again, it just feels so homely. He plants a hand on his face in surprise, the twitch of his little finger creating a subconscious guard to keep Gundham from noticing anything.

“Erm. Uh. I...don’t really—”

“I won’t...forget it.”

Is that a threat? Kazuichi’s fingers habitually tap against his cheek as he tries to think of what to say back. He can’t gauge the sincerity enough to match it, and he doesn’t want to risk being made a joke of. Verbal warfare was never his strong suit, and even in the tender days of elementary school, he was always prone to baulking in the face of someone demanding an answer from him. It was always easier to just run away.

He can’t believe it. Right in the middle of his long-awaited high school days, he’s seriously considering turning tail and running away from another student. The markings of a problematic type don’t seem to work against an equal force like Gundham, and he’s never considered what to do if things got this far. Gundham would likely just laugh at him, and what’s so wrong with that? The guy laughs at everything he deems inferior, which makes his scope horrifyingly broad. They’ve butted heads as rivals before, it’s not such a foreign occurrence, but something is so deeply different here, and Kazuichi just can’t put his finger on it quick enough. Decisive only in his indecision, his answer is forfeit.

“And...besides,” Gundham mumbles, beginning to pull the door closed. “I cannot have you bearing witness to the ritual of resealing my left arm. It is...not a sight for mortals. Not even for the likes of the Dark Queen or...Hajime.”

What a sad state of it all. Burning like a rejected confession, there’s nothing more humiliating than being made useless. The fact he’d tried to cushion the blow at all with his untenable reasoning just makes Kazuichi feel that much weaker. This kind of mercy should be welcomed, but having his feelings so gracefully spared is a bit sickening. No amount of understanding that it’s not an unreasonable decision when your relationship is barely considered a friendship makes it ache less, and that’s by far the worst part. Where is the drowning sensation of rejection coming from? He doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t want to understand.

When the door closes fully, he resists the urge to kick it. Sent stalking back to his own cottage with a shameful attempt at wanting something held lifelessly in his hands, he rolls through every thought he has of Sonia in the hope of drowning out the loud emptiness of his brain. After all, with that gorgeous princess, he knows where he stands, and being hated by her is at least enough attention to make him happy. He settles himself face-down onto his bed before his sense of self-sabotage tempts him to consider why being hated bothers him when he’s never cared to be liked so shallowly. Especially not by Gundham, who at his very core, does not do anything in shallow measures.

Chapter Text

The digital sky over Jabberwock Island fades into vibrant streaks of blue and orange as the sun begins to descend over the horizon, and if that’s not a solid indicator of dinnertime, the gorgeous scent of Teruteru’s cooking wafting through the air definitely is. Permeating through every cottage, there’s no need to gather everyone when the smell of food is the perfect attention-grabber for stray students. Kazuichi hadn’t meant to fall asleep when he’d gone for his little sulk, and the uncomfortable warmth and fatigue of a nap taken too late in the day puts him in a foul mood when he finally wakes up. Even the unstoppable force of Teruteru’s talent isn’t enough to put a smile on his face.

It’s not just the accidental attack on his circadian rhythm; on top of being exhausted, achy, and frustrated by the sand between his toes, he’d forgotten to take his contacts out. His eyes are irritated enough to only just be noticeable, like a paper cut. With all of that and a growling stomach, he stomps out of his cottage barefoot, slams the door shut behind him, and decides to make dinner as quick an affair as possible. If he sits in the farthest corner, he should be able to get away with wolfing down a plate of whatever is on the menu without anyone stopping to talk to him.

His ire takes him around the other side of the swimming pool to where Byakuya and Hajime are talking, and Kazuichi isn’t exactly inconspicuous as it stands, so he hopes his awkward, speedy half-jog towards the hotel restaurant mitigates the amount of attention they pay him. Plodding up the stairs to the restaurant’s entrance, he slips in quietly and makes quick work of scoping out the food situation before he sits down. He’s not entirely sure what the concoction of rice and meat he settles on actually is, but food is food. He’s never turned down rice before, and he’s certain his stomach is safe in Teruteru’s hands. Despite being hungry, however, his unexpected nap has allowed a nauseating heat to settle in his stomach that prevents him from eating with haste. It’s a frustrating wrench in his plans, and he pointedly stares out of the window he’s seated next to in order to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

It really is just like his middle school days, he thinks with mocking resignation, though at least this time he’s not eating his food in a bathroom cubicle.

The rice is hot and tasty, but swallowing it down is taking more energy than he has. He manages a few big bites, but then fades into picking at each individual grain, flicking the meat and onions around his plate. Maybe if he can find a container somewhere, he can just pack it up and eat it later back at his cottage. Doing that would involve having to get himself to the kitchen, squeezing past tables full of rambunctious chatter, and as he eyes Akane from across the room scarfing down piles and piles of meat, he’s taken off-guard by someone plonking down into the chair opposite his.

“Kazu-ichii~!” Ibuki grins, snapping open a pair of disposable chopsticks, causing one to break off at an awkward length. “Taking up the good window seat? I like your style! Sitting alone like this, it’s so cool, so mysterious~!”

Kazuichi’s eyes narrow, his appetite beginning to disappear. He considers getting out of his chair and just walking off without a word, but he’s not got that kind of social fortitude. Ibuki’s brand of humour is a hard one to grasp, tricky to discern between honesty and taking the piss, but she’s so high-energy, she may just lead this one-sided conversation around and leave him little to do. That’s pretty ideal, all things considered.

“Yeah, not really your style, is it?” he replies flatly. “Don’t you wanna go sit where all the excitement is happening?” He gestures towards the rowdier end of the room with a tilt of his head, where Akane, Byakuya and Nekomaru have formed some sort of alliance as they carve their way through half a table of food between the three of them. Watching them now makes Hiyoko’s absence at dinner very noticeable, as he’d expected her to be lurking nearby, making pig noises at them through stifled laughter. Mahiru, dining without her, seems to have found temporary refuge with Chiaki and Hajime.

“Yeah, sure, except sitting next to Akane at dinnertime is like going through a car-wash!” Ibuki cackles, sifting through her food with a keen eye. “Seriously, I’ve seen dogs with better table manners. I’ve seen me with better table manners!” As if to punctuate her point, she lifts an udon noodle from her bowl and dangles it above her head, mouth wide open to catch the bottom of it. Slurping it up causes specks of broth to dot the table, and Kazuichi neatly and silently slides his plate to one side, trying not to let the mention of dogs bring up any unwanted thoughts about Gundham.

“Yeah, no kidding…” Kazuichi mutters with a half-smile, continuing to pick at his food, though he’s not feeling all too precious about it if Ibuki’s going to keep painting the table with curry broth. Daring to scope out the rest of the room, he notices that alongside Hiyoko, Gundham is also absent, which piques his interest further when he spies Sonia sitting down to join Hajime’s table. He’s got no suspicions about it, nor any reason to really have any, but he does wonder if perhaps he’s finally tracked that annoying little runt down.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ibuki grins, planting an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand. For someone so talented with a guitar, her dexterity with chopsticks is shockingly bad, and slurping up a noodle ends up giving Kazuichi a soupy whiplash. He whines, wiping the residue from his cheek with a part of his sleeve.

“Nothing now!” he huffs, slapping his chopsticks down onto the table with no further intention of eating. “Can you go weaponise your dinner somewhere else? Look, you’re getting crap all over the table, and Mahiru’s gonna come and yell at me about it.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ibuki perks up, ignoring him with remarkable diligence. “Did you ever find that...that-- what were you looking for again? A window?”

“A door! And...no. Not yet, but if Nekomaru’s word is to be trusted, it might’ve been swept out to sea. No chance getting it back if that’s true,” he replies glumly, shimmying himself around so he can lean comfortably against the window. The cold glass is soothing against his back. “Doesn’t leave us with many ideas either. I mean, anyone could’ve done that.”

Ibuki clicks her tongue in thought, tapping her chopsticks together. “Weren’t you looking for Hiyoko too? Man, I would’ve thought she’d come to dinner at least! Ain’t that what TV detectives call a guilty conscience?”

Through the musician’s tinny giggling, Kazuichi points out, “Gundham’s not turned up yet either. Not unless he came by super early.”

Eyes sparkling with the energy of an overactive imagination, Ibuki leans over the table. Her whisper is conspiratorial. “Ooh! Y’don’t think they’re up to something, do you? Heheh, maybe they’re fighting! Or, maybe they’re, like, makin’ out in a bush! All enemies-to-lovers style! Super enemies-to-lovers in their case, hahah!”

Kazuichi nearly vomits onto the table at the very thought of it. A horrible nausea overtakes him, as well as a pang of something else he doesn’t quite have the capacity to grasp. Clamping a hand over his dissatisfied stomach, he warns Ibuki with dark, hollow eyes, “If you say anything like that again, I’m going to strip all the veins out of your body and use them to restring your guitar.”

Ibuki’s face flashes with shock, but her offence, lacking as it is in the first place, is vastly overshadowed by the force of her abnormal creative flair. Her eyes light up like fireworks, brimming with excitement at what Kazuichi realises is a horrible idea he’s inadvertently given her. To make the situation even worse, before he can scramble to cut her brewing lunacy off, he’s beaten to it by someone with less patience. Somehow, he’s made to be the problem again.

“Kazuichi, that’s gross! Do you have to be so violent? You’re a man, not a gorilla!” Mahiru lectures, shifting her empty tray and bowl into one hand so she can point at him with the other. “And where the heck are your shoes? Are you seriously eating barefoot? That’s so unhygienic!”

“You eat at the beach, don’t you?”

“That’s different!” She plants a hand on her hip with a frown, but her face is so round that it doesn’t convey her anger very well. “We’re in a building! Look, you’ve even tracked sand across the floor! Teruteru’s gonna come at you with a broom if he sees this mess. Make sure you clean it up, okay?”

Kazuichi grumbles something of an affirmation, his appetite now brutally decimated. He shifts his plate around with impatience, the urge to get up and head back to the cottage now very much at the forefront of his mind, but Mahiru doesn’t seem to be done yet. Whatever it is isn’t a lecture this time, because her features soften into something more pleasant, though still marred with concern.

“Oh, that’s right, have you...seen Gundham at all? I noticed he didn’t come to dinner.”

Exactly the guy he’s been trying not to think about, but there’s no ignoring a conversation with Mahiru. For a second, Ibuki opens her mouth to say something, but bites it back and returns to her food, unblinking eyes peering over her bowl at Kazuichi. He sighs, long and heavy, trying to muster a passable answer.

“Not since earlier,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It needs a wash. He’s pretty immune to the bother of being covered in grease, but the fragility of his temper is increasing, and this is not the straw he wants to collapse under. “What, did you need him for something?”

“No, actually,” Mahiru replies with some uncertainty. “I bumped into Hiyoko a little while ago, so I was going to tell you. I asked her what was going on-- you know, if she had anything to do with his front door, but she wasn’t really listening.” With a small chuckle, she tacks on, “I guess that’s what I get for trying to get an answer out of her whilst she’s practising.”

Kazuichi raises a brow. “Where was she?”

“She was in the park, but I think she headed back not long after. She wasn’t there when I passed by again, anyway. Since it’s getting late, she might just be at her cottage now. I wonder if maybe that’s what Gundham’s up to.”

Kazuichi fiercely tries to blink away all memories of Ibuki’s awful assessment of the situation, wondering how out of place it might look if he just leant over the table and slapped her for good measure. She’s still eating, but her pace has slowed considerably, as if she’s waiting for something.

With a dismissive shrug, Mahiru then says, “Well, either way, I passed on the message. I seriously doubt she has anything to do with this, but if you want to talk to her anyway, go ahead. And, clean that sand up before you go!”

She trots off to go and take care of her dirty dishes, disappearing into the kitchen and striking up a conversation with Peko, who happens to be going the same way. When Kazuichi breathes a sigh of relief, he’s jarred back into uneasiness by Ibuki’s intense gaze. The way she maintains firm eye contact whilst slurping her soup is deeply unsettling. He squints at her in retaliation.

“Can...can I help you?”

Ibuki’s reply is muffled around her mouthful of food, and when she forces it down in one big gulp, she says rather matter-of-factly, “Your eyes are a different colour.”

He’d been expecting something a little more...threatening. After all, Ibuki has a keen habit of saying things he really doesn’t like hearing, and seeing her with a face like she’s thinking about something only foretells trouble. Thrown by her comment, he can only blink at her. He realises now that his eyes have stopped feeling so sore, and he gently rubs them with the heels of his hands.

“Erm. Yeah. They’re...you didn’t think they were that colour naturally, did you? Aren’t yours fake as well?” He leans over to peer into Ibuki’s shining, magenta eyes, and he wonders if they use the same brand of contact lenses. Ibuki just erupts into a giggle.

“Oh man, pretty much everything about Ibuki is fake! Got my extensions, my dye, my eyes, my nails-- I bet my tatas would be fake too if I was old enough to get ‘em done! Kyahahah! Okay, the piercings are totally real, but that doesn’t count. I was just wondering, though, ‘cos, like, don’t you wear glasses?”

Kazuichi jolts in his seat. “Wh-- how did you know that? I never told you that!”

“Ooh, maybe Ibuki is psychic!” she squeals, pressing her fingertips to her temples as if trying to summon some sort of otherworldly curse. “Nah, not really~! To be honest, you just kind look like you do. At least, to me, anyway.”

What a bizarre social superpower. A girl like Ibuki could probably conduct that with devastating accuracy, and it’s that kind of limitless confidence in high school girls that sends Kazuichi running for the hills. Just what is it about them that makes them so intimidating? Of course, people in his class are going to know that he wears glasses, but why does it feel so frightening when Ibuki casts it up all of a sudden?

Everything feels suspiciously like some sort of trap. With hesitance in his voice, Kazuichi slowly replies, “I...took my contacts out after I fell asleep with them in.”

“Ooh, that’s super bad, you shouldn’t do that. Even Ibuki doesn’t do that.”

“I-- yeah, I know that! It wasn’t on purpose, dumbass,” Kazuichi bites back, though it’s more of a whinge. “I fell asleep on accident! I got tired after...after dealing with Gundham’s shit. Man, getting to sleep tonight is gonna be such a ballache. God damn it…” He rests his face in his hands, already starting to feel the pervading exhaustion lingering behind his eyes that his brain is too active to succumb to. Looks like tonight is going to have to be another night of disassembling things on the bed until he passes out.

Ibuki emits a humming laugh that resonates within her closed mouth, and the upturn of her lips precedes a query of, “Hm, hm, Gundham, right? Were you two together all day~? I bet it was super hard being his little minion of darkness! Did he make you do spells? Did you, like, do some big ritual? Ooh, what about a sacrifice!”

For all his experience in comic relief, Kazuichi is beaten, and can only watch Ibuki with flat and disinterested eyes. Letting out a sigh would only make him feel even more tired. He slumps back in his chair with a grunt.

“There’s no way I’d get caught up in any of that crap,” he says firmly, knowing full well how timidly he’d aligned himself with Gundham’s skewed perception of the world only a few hours earlier, captivated by a much-needed kindness; one that still picks at his brain even now. “It was nothing like that. We just walked around a bit, talked to some people, and-- erm, we...did a race. Actually, don’t ask about that, that was kind of weird. He ended up tearing his contact so I, uh...lent him some of mine. Then I went back to my cottage and, well, y’know...”

Ibuki gasps, grasping for pearls that she’s not even wearing, but there’s a sly glimmer to her bulging eyes. Theatrical in her appalled expression, she slaps her hands down loudly onto the table and chirps, “What?! Sharing contact lenses! That’s, like-- it’s like an indirect kiss! For eyeballs! Y’know, when some people-- like super weirdos, they do that thing where they press their eyeballs together like smooch smooch~! I never actually got what that was about, but I feel like it’s...on par with sharing a straw.”

“...Ibuki, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Kazuichi, if he wears one of your contacts, that’s totally, like, indirect kissing! It’s like if he was wearing your underpants! Wait, wait, did he accept them? Is he gonna wear them? Is he gonna, like, think of you when he puts them in? Maybe all looking into the mirror, like…”

Ibuki is a terrific stage performer, but her mime skills leave so very much to be desired, and her delusional re-enactment of what she supposes might happen on Gundham’s end of things looks less like a convincing portrayal of a human being and more like she’s trying to do make-up drunk without a mirror. Then again, Gundham purposely skirts that designation with alarming tenacity, so maybe it’s not so out of the realm of possibility. Regardless, Kazuichi is feeling lightly traumatised by this conversation.

“Ibuki, s-stop...this is…”

It’s weird, it’s awkward, it’s so unlike Gundham that it physically pains him to watch it, but despite all that, there’s something so fucking poisonous about the idea. It’s seeping into his mind at a devastating pace, and no amount of shaking his head is going to get rid of it. All it results in is a sore neck and still no clue as to why it’s dealing such monumental psychic damage. It feels so perverse, and that’s him saying that. A part of him wants to rush out and snatch back those contacts before any of this can become a reality, slim as those chances are.

Sanity hanging by a thread, Kazuichi finally snatches up his plate and stands up, which he’d been meaning to do for almost half an hour now. Like a snake being trodden on, he weakly hisses, “I-I don’t know what’s with you thinking that, thinking that me and Gundham are like…man, I don’t even know! It’s not like that at all! It’s not weird to share contacts-- I mean, I’ve never done it before. I’ve never had a reason to do that, but he was throwing a hissy-fit, and I didn’t know what to do, so—”

Ibuki just chuckles. Not her usual high-octane screeching, but a placid, calm rhythm that sounds far too pleasant to Kazuichi’s burning ears. She flips her chopsticks around her fingers, tapping away to a beat heard only in her head, and before Kazuichi leaves, she says, “I told you. Ibuki the matchmaker always knows what’s up! And, if you ask me why I think that, I’m just gonna say...I think you just look like the type.”

If this is the return of her whimsical sixth sense for deducing facets of people’s personal lives, then her accuracy from earlier is leaving a bloody trail of uneasiness in its wake. Kazuichi rarely knows when the right time is to button his lip, but he wisely clamps his mouth shut and scuttles away, dropping his plate off by the kitchen as he passes by. As he leaves the hotel, he ignores the feeling of being watched from the upstairs window, and mercifully wonders if everyone else is able to see through him the way Ibuki does.

The slog back to the cottage should really only be a few minutes; even less than that, in fact, but a hard day doesn’t stop being hard just because night falls. Kazuichi likes to say he keeps himself out of trouble, but it’s incredibly unfortunate how trouble seems to find him. He’s like a magnet for the stuff, though he doesn’t think there’s a whole lot he can do if the trouble crosses his path in the shape of Hiyoko.

He bumps into her right as he slips between the first row of cottages, where the concrete fades into decking, and her form is so unnaturally vivid standing out in the dark that he stumbles for a moment, wondering what the hell that big orange blur is. Then, when the shape of her pigtails sparks familiarity, his mouth falls open. She flinches before he even gets a word out, eyeing his accusatory point with apprehension.

“Y-you! Hiyoko! We’ve been looking for you all day! Where the hell were—”

“Ew! What kind of pervert stops a girl walking home at night?! Talk about opportunistic! Get lost, loser!”

Stunning personality as always, and Kazuichi can’t help but cower under her verbal assault. Of course, she isn’t going to take kindly to being interrogated, but he’d forgotten how hard it is to fend her off without another voice of reason by his side. He tries not to let the panic show on his face, but Hiyoko sniffs out weakness like a bloodhound, and with twice the ferocity.

“H-hey, who’re you calling a pervert?! Y’can’t just go around accusing people at random!”

Hiyoko just laughs, snarking, “Oh, really? Who’s gonna stop me? Maybe don’t lurk in the shadows like a stalker, and I won’t call you a pervert, pervert!”

She’s sickeningly dainty, an obscene contrast to the venom she spouts, brewing behind big, shining eyes and an adorably round face. Her manners are visually impeccable, from the way she stands to the way she walks, but the moment that mouth opens, it’s like a verbal bin fire. Once again, forced to admit that his way with words is lacklustre by comparison, he steels himself, though only able to do so whilst peeking shyly through his fingers.

“W-would you shut up?! I’m not into loud-mouthed brats! All I wanted was—”

“Oh, so you like ‘em quiet instead? Gross. Actually, that’s way worse! Ahah, Kazuichi, if you keep saying stuff like that, you’re gonna get arrested! Send me pictures from jail, okay? Though, there’s no way I’d actually look at them…”

Oh, it just keeps getting worse and worse. Every time he embarks on a new conversation with this social assassin, there’s always a renewed sense of confidence that gives him a feeling of safety, a hope that this time might work a little more in his favour, but it never, ever does. He doesn’t understand why he never seems to learn his lesson. She’s a total phenomenon, and the more he’s able to distance their mutual humanity, or lack thereof in Hiyoko’s case, the easier it is to regard every facet of her as something he’ll never come to understand.

“Y...you’re the fucking worst, y’know that?!” Kazuichi barks, arms flailing as if trying to scare off a bear. “You’re just-- just….ugh!”

“Yeah, that’s-- you’re doing a great job there. Keep that up. Looking real cool right now,” she chuckles with disdain, sarcasm oozing out of every word. Then, flashing a sunny smile, she sings, “Wow, y’know what? You’re kind of like the guy version of Mikan, aren’t you? I forget how fun it is to tease you, mostly ‘cos I forget you even exist.”

Erupting into a growl, a little more upset at the idea of going unnoticed than actually being insulted, he retorts, “You’re just sayin’ that to get on my nerves! Though, I gotta say, I don’t see much of you either; it’s hard to see such a short-ass from all the way up here.”

“Well, aren’t you clever,” she spits. “You’d be surprised how easily a chump like you fades into the background. You’ve got your perks though! Whenever I see your crusty ass, it reminds me to go take a shower. Seriously, just looking at you makes me feel grotty. Your hair is so crispy and over-dyed, I think we should just shave it all off! Hahah, maybe I’ll do that whilst you’re sleeping!”

He’s not winning. Fighting back feels good in the moment, but she just triples her attack with every go around. Running away would only make him look like a dick, and he’s not keen to go proving any of her points. His tongue slack in his mouth, but charged with fizzing energy, he grits his teeth hard enough to chip the enamel as the frustration starts to hit a breaking point. Stumbling over useless words, he think he’s lost this round by a mile until an ally suddenly materialises a few feet behind him.

“Stand down, thrall! Allow me to handle this.”

Well, it’s no knight in shining armour, but it hoists his heart rate up a few notches all the same. In that moment, the anxieties he’d been hoarding regarding Gundham and all that comes with suddenly melts away, leaving him largely relieved, and a little bashful, too. Hiyoko, on the other hand, is pulling a face like she’s just watched someone get hit by a car. It’s not the nicest approximation of Gundham’s unusual personality, but when you’re right, you’re right.

“Oh, great, now there’s two of them,” she hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “What is this, a pervert convention? You’re so tough you had to have the dogfucker come save you. That’s a new level of pathetic.”

“Cease your obscene babbling, demon!” Gundham snarls, taking one step forward in order to tower over Hiyoko’s tiny frame. “The web of fate has forced me to approach you. You’d be wise to heed my words.”

Agape, Hiyoko whines, “What the hell, you’re gonna try squaring up to me?! That’s so unfair, you’re like double my size! Whatever! Even if it’s unfair, you don’t scare me in the slightest! If Mikan’s pig barf, you’re the pig it came from!”

Stamping her heels onto the concrete, she makes a move to disappear, but Gundham cuts off her escape, blocking the narrow path between the pavement and the girls cottages. Before she can let loose another string of expletives, Gundham holds out a hand to silence her.

“I wish to pose you one question and one question only. The front door to my cottage, what happened to it?”

At first, Hiyoko just peers at him with a screwed-up expression. A tinge of suspicion, she starts to mutter in confusion, but understanding hits her swiftly. The metaphorical penny drops, and her face lights up. She’s already biting back a laugh, and her face has never looked so slappable.

“Oh! That! Yeah, that things probably miles out into the ocean by now,” she grins, burrowing her chin into the sleeves of her kimono. “Whoops! You probably aren’t getting that back.”

With palpable rage, “So it was you!”

She’s angelic in the worst way possible. Her eyes brim with faux innocence as she reasons, “What? I didn’t do anything! All I did was find a big, old piece of wood lying out in the open-- in fact, it was right where you’re standing now! Since it didn’t seem like anyone was using it, I made it into a raft and set it adrift! I was totally gonna burn it too, but it didn’t catch. I guess that must be something they put in the paint, huh?”

Kazuichi reels back, sputtering, “Wh--! That totally sounds like your fault! A door is a door, you must’ve known that when you saw it! Even I know you’re not that dense, Hiyoko.”

He’s unfortunately correct, proven immediately by Hiyoko’s sharp excuse. “Uh, no, it’s not my fault at all. Whoever took that thing off its hinges in the first place is the bad guy here, not me! And, it didn’t look like a door at all! I mean, there was no handle or anything!” Though she says that, the way her lips twist into a barely-contained grin raises speculation.

Kazuichi’s first instinct is to accuse her of lying, but something feels off. If she’s going to the trouble of admitting she cast the thing out into the water in the first place, there’s not much point getting so specific about the state of the door and how it was found. Plus, as he’d considered earlier, putting the physical effort into removing someone’s front door feels a little out of character for Hiyoko. Why bother removing a door completely when she can just shove ants through the keyhole and be done with it? If it’s not easily done wearing a kimono, Hiyoko simply won’t do it.

Sharing the scepticism, Gundham thickly replies, “I find that difficult to believe, but if it was removed and placed here as you said, there must be some extraordinary reason for it.” He glares down at her, and ridiculous as his language is, he’s actually pretty frightening when he’s got his eyes on you. Kazuichi wants to laugh, taunting Hiyoko’s unfortunate position with embarrassing vindication.

“Yeah, no shit!” Hiyoko pouts, adding, “And, don’t ask me why ‘cos I’ve got no idea! That thing was already out here when I got up this morning. And, speaking of hard to believe, what I find hard is believe is how you slept through someone ripping your door off your cottage in the first place! You got hamsters in your ears, or something?”

Rage boiling, it looks as if Gundham might just snap and put her through the decking, but perhaps he’s got more patience than Kazuichi is hoping. Instead, he bemusedly murmurs, “What do you mean by ripped? How is it you’d know that?”

“That seems a bit excessive, don’t you think? Unscrewing door hinges isn’t really all that loud unless you’re using a drill,” Kazuichi explains. “Which, even if you sleep like the dead, you’d definitely hear from a few feet away. Someone probably just snuck by with a screwdriver. It’s not that hard.”

Gundham looks away suddenly, tugging his scarf up over his nose as Hiyoko rolls her eyes with such force that her whole head goes with it. “Way to drop yourself in it, since you’re the only one with the tools to do it, dumbass! And, I know what I said! When I saw the door this morning, it had like...all these weird, bent hinges stuck to the side—”

“So, you did know it was a door!”

“I was obviously lying, you stupid, fucking grease-monkey! Of course, it was a door! I just didn’t care! It was in such crappy shape anyway, I probably did you a favour by tossing it into the sea.”

Kazuichi glowers, eyelids twitching as he thinks about the tedious work of utilising something as ineffective as a surfboard in order to gift Gundham his privacy back. You can’t fuck up a door that badly without snapping it in half, so as far as he’s concerned, Hiyoko’s dumb little prank is just a waste of materials. If he slaps her now, maybe Gundham will agree to keep it a secret.

“Enough of this foolishness. You, small demon. What time did you arise this morning?”

Hiyoko clearly wants to bite back with as much offence as possible, but even she’s getting tired, and she can see there won’t be any getting past Gundham unless she tells him what he wants to know. Folding her arms, she kicks up a cloud of dust with the soles of her sandals like a petulant child waiting to go home.

“Ugh, it was like...maybe six o’clock? Way before anyone else anyway, because I didn’t see a single person around when I took that door down to the beach to throw out to sea. Then, if you’re really that desperate to know, I got my snacks from the supermarket, and spent the entire day practising on my own. That’s it. Now, let me go back to my cottage! If you don’t, I’m gonna tell Mahiru you two tried to look up my kimono!”

Gundham sidesteps quickly and without a word. Maybe she should’ve used that threat earlier, but it’s hard to throw out bluffs when he’s on the warpath. Though she looks firmly down on him, holding not even the slightest ounce of respect, even she’s a little hesitant to get into a real fight with this guy. Sticking her tongue out and blowing a fat raspberry, she marches past and breaks out into a hurried dash to get herself back to her cottage. Whatever passing insult she throws at them dies in the air, and she slams her cottage door shut so hard that it rattles all the nearby windows.

Now that hurricane Hiyoko is gone, Kazuichi can breathe a long sigh of relief. Once again, they’ve been met with the two steps forward, one step back result, and are now left with more questions than answers. It’s better than no leads at all, but Kazuichi’s brain is starting to hurt, and on top of that, he’s stood face-to-face with someone he’d half been hoping to avoid. He awkwardly scrubs at the side of his face, staring down at his feet and remembering he’d neglected to put shoes on.

“It seems we’re finally getting somewhere. It’s hard to say how much truth the demon’s words hold, but it’s certainly becoming interesting,” Gundham smirks, eyeing the spot where Hiyoko claimed to have found the abandoned door that morning. “A door with no handles and bent hinges? Just what in the hell happened…?”

Kazuichi glances up at him, noting the familiar shock of bright pink glimmering in his left eye. Swallowing down a building warmth, he aims to distract himself by commenting, “Bent hinges is kind of weird. If Hiyoko’s right and it looked like the door was torn from the frame, then...how did you sleep through that?”

Gundham suddenly baulks, which is always a refreshing, novel face for the overconfident idiot. Still, whilst prone to letting certain things slip, he doesn’t seem like that bad of a liar. Kazuichi entertains the idea of Gundham being competent enough to lie poorly about things he doesn’t care to hide; it’s a thought that makes him seem just a bit more human, characterised by a secretly lonely side, but perhaps that’s just wishful thinking. His brain stutters at the thought- wishful thinking? What’s he got to be wishful about? Saying that makes it sound like he wants Gundham to confide in him. Weird. He definitely doesn’t want that.

“Erm,” Gundham begins to mumble, watching a moth flitter past in search of a lightbulb. “It’s...well, I wouldn’t have heard it. In this place, I’m forced to fall asleep to some sort of melody, whether it is my wish to or not.”

He looks kind of embarrassed about it, which is making it hard for Kazuichi not to crack a grin. In this darkness, he might just get away with it. “So, you fell asleep with earbuds in, is that it? I mean, I do that all the time, it’s not that weird, but don’t you, like, listen out for your hamsters at night, or whatever?”

Gundham sighs, and with soft eyes shining even through the low lighting, he says, “You’ve never kept one of these beasts before, have you?”

Kazuichi would usually find his patience to be insulting, but maybe feeling patronised once in a while isn’t so bad. “Okay, you got me. I never had a hamster before. How’d you figure?”

“Quite easily,” Gundham explains, folding his arms and gently twisting the rings on his fingers with his thumb. “Hamsters are nocturnal creatures, so they are very active at night. In my earthly abode, they’re granted full domain of the lower floor during this period so that they may go about their business. However, in these cottages, there is no such luxury.”

“Oh!” Kazuichi pipes up with a grin. “I get it! Since they live in your cottage, the hamsters are so loud at night that you gotta wear earbuds to drown ‘em out if you wanna get any sleep. Man, that...kinda sucks, actually. Is there nowhere else you can put them for the night?”

“That would be an incredibly irresponsible course of action. I am bound by our pact to care for them, and distance between us would cause nothing but mayhem. It is simply my fate to endure these trials, and the Overlord of Ice does not shirk such responsibility. Surely, the Four Dark Devas of Destruction would have my soul on a platter were I to forsake our bond.”

To Kazuichi, it just sounds as if Gundham would be quite miserable without his companions, and vice versa. It really highlights how strongly he feels for those round little rodents, and Kazuichi kind of wishes someone would take care of him with the same attentiveness. Also, Gundham is absolutely lying about the shirking of responsibility when Kazuichi has caught him time and time again slipping away from the group the moment he decides he doesn’t want to do something. He’s a pretty diligent cleaner, and decent at group organisation, but if it’s something too social or puts him in an unwanted spotlight, suddenly he’s sensing some dark spirit at the end of the corridor that requires his immediate attention. Kazuichi can relate a little too much to that to really be annoyed by it, but the least he could do is not give such a stupid excuse. Between ghosts and dark forces, a real man should just say he has the shits and go.

“I getcha,” Kazuichi nods. “I used to get that way a bit with my dog when I was, like, man, maybe four or five? She used to come sleep on the end of my bed, and she was small too, so it was a perfect fit. Man, when she died and I had to sleep on my own, I cried so hard I threw up. I had to sleep with my parents for, like, three months.” He chuckles softly, the memories fond but now very distant. He’d almost forgotten about that, come to think of it.

For a guy with Gundham’s passions, there’s no better way to worm into his heart than that. Though his expression still retains its usual stoicism, his eyes distinctly light up as he says, “You had such a beast? You never mentioned that before.”

Kazuichi gives a sheepish, lopsided smile. “Did I not? Man, maybe it just...never came up. To be honest, I was a super little kid back then, and that dog basically grew up with me. My parents had it before I was even born, but then when I came along, I guess she took a real shine to me. It was so long ago now, though…”

“Dogs can form incredible bonds with children. Of course, being beasts, that is a dynamic to be approached with caution, but those pacts often become unbreakable.”

“Sure. I mean, it’s like every kid’s dream to have their own-- yeowch!!”

Kazuichi suddenly freezes, the pleasant conversation grinding to a halt, and he wobbles precariously on one foot, hands splaying out to stop himself from keeling over. Screwing up his face, he can feel the tension of his tightly clenched jaw running up to the back of his eyes, where tears soon begin to brim. A sharp jolt of pain throbs through his foot, and he begins to slap his fist against his thigh with a guttural groan, hoping to help redirect a fraction of the agony.

Gundham reels back with alarm. “Wh...what? What happened?”

Through a horrible, high-pitched whine, Kazuichi manages to grit out, “I...stepped...on...something…!” He reaches an arm out to collapse on the closest bit of structure he can get to, holding the afflicted foot up and biting back the shrill shriek he desperately wants to let out. “Fuck...fuck, fuck-- this hurts so…mmph! Fucking hell!”

“Let me see,” Gundham orders, bending down onto on knee to grab Kazuichi by the ankle. Kazuichi jumps at the sudden warmth over his foot, and it seems even in such pain, Gundham’s willingness to touch him stands out. He holds his breath, hoping that it isn’t just some tiny little shard of glass that he’s making such a huge deal over.

He can’t quite gauge Gundham’s reaction with this angle and lighting, but the uncertain hiss between teeth is unmistakable. When Gundham lifts his head finally, there’s an uncomfortable twitch to his eye. Kazuichi blanches.

“Wh...what is it? Is it bad?”

“It...erm, it looks like-- I think it might be a nail, or something.”

“A nail?! Who the fuck is leaving nails out on the ground?”

“Ah, hold on…”

“Dude, just fucking take it out!”

Gundham frowns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We may have to seek out the healer. Her expertise could be necessary.” Though as he dips down to take another look at what Kazuichi would really rather avoid having to see himself, he then mutters, “Oh. Actually, it might not be that bad. It’s not so deep, but even so…”

“All Mikan is gonna do is give me a shot that I don’t need!” Kazuichi argues, eyes reddened from where he’s wiping away the beginnings of tears. Crying in front of Gundham is a fat no from him.

“Well, you’ll have to if you haven’t had a tetanus shot before. Regardless, I’m certain the hospital or the pharmacy will be stocked in our favour here.”

“Wh-- are you fucking high? D’you expect me to walk there?! Take it out!”

With an abrupt shout, Gundham just snaps, “Fine!” He’s speedy enough with his fingers to yank it out in one go, and Kazuichi yelps and slumps back against the cottage, stretching out the pain in his foot. There’s a tickling of something running down his heel, a sensation that only serves to make him shudder. It briefly crosses his mind that if he’d gone with Gundham’s plan, he might’ve ended up being carried all the way there just like earlier. Bullet dodged…?

Balancing on his toes, Kazuichi staggers upright and begins to limp in the direction of his cottage, waving a hand in the face of a stuttering Gundham, who is trying his best to ferry him off in the direction of help. Planting a hand on the railing to steady himself, he insists, “Dude, it’s...ow, fuck, that-- okay, it hurts like hell, but it’s fine. Y’think I don’t do this all the time in the shop? This happens to me at least three times a week. Okay, usually the screws are flat, but still!”

“It was a screw.”

Kazuichi cranes his neck to look over his shoulder, where Gundham holds up a small screw, glinting gold in the distant lights of the hotel. Gundham’s fingertips are lightly mottled with blood, and Kazuichi consciously decides to have no opinion on that fact. He does, however, lean in to get a good look at it, surprise dawning on his face.

“Oh! Hey, that...could that be a screw from your front door? It’s the same colour as the hinges, and it’s small enough for it, too. Shit, Hiyoko might’ve been right.”

Gundham simply grunts, pocketing the screw, and suddenly elbowing Kazuichi in the opposite direction, telling him sternly, “That way. I’ve got bandages and disinfectant in my cottage. At the very least, let’s clean it before we find the healer.”

Kazuichi pulls a face like a startled deer, his knees buckling under him, exacerbated by the pain rippling through his foot. The most he’s got in his cottage are plasters, so it would go without saying that heading to Gundham’s cottage would be far more beneficial. Still, it’s a bit daunting, and he doesn’t fancy having to be the one owing him a favour. Who knows what he’ll get roped into doing? Though it’s possible Gundham might reason that his kindness need not be repaid, his efforts akin to helping a wounded animal. Even less than that, perhaps, as mortals seem to be at the very bottom of his personal hierarchy of value.

He doesn’t know what he’s debating it for. Didn’t he want to be treated with care and attentiveness? Somehow, it feels like he’s betraying himself by accepting, but something draws him to the idea of wanting to see what the inside of Gundham’s personal space is. The closer that thought gets, the more nervous Kazuichi can feel himself becoming, and it’s possible that if he wasn’t so distracted by having a screw forcibly pierced into his foot, he might’ve noticed that for the entire night not a single thought has been spent thinking about a certain princess.

Chapter Text

Gundham’s room is...surprisingly normal.

To be honest, Kazuichi didn’t really know what he’d been expecting. A corpse? The infinite void crammed into the small confines of a beach cottage? The hamster cage is kind of a given, but he hadn’t been expecting it to take up so much of the room, nor for it to be built of such wild, garish colours. The palette would give even him a run for his money, and sitting against the backdrop of dark curtains covered in occult patterns, it really stands out. Trying not to trip over the plastic tubing running over the floor, Kazuichi bites back a small smile. Is this bizarre overlap of aesthetics what happens when a goth becomes a parent? Kids are basically wild animals; is Gundham any good with that kind of thing, too?

He’d expected something a little creepier, but the rocking chair is definitely not what he'd had in mind, and it stands out tremendously. It’s a real antique-looking one, bigger than he’s ever seen before, and surrounded by stacks of books. None of them look like they pertain to animals, and the place is looking more like some crazy, old cat lady’s den than the room of a chuunibyou high school student. Maybe Gundham’s just getting some practise in for his future. What ambition.

Despite wobbling in the doorway, politely dripping blood onto the floorboards, Gundham forgoes aiding Kazuichi in favour of returning his hamsters safely back to their cage, where the late hour has brightened their spirits, and they scurry around to sate themselves with food and water. Kazuichi winces at the musty scent that then hits him, reminiscent of the inside of a pet shop, and he dreads to think what Gundham’s actual house must smell like. He hobbles a few feet over some more tubing, wondering how safe it is to put his foot down on a floor where hamsters have been living.

“You can sit here,” Gundham tells him, gesturing to the rocking chair with a flick of his chin, shuffling in the direction of the bathroom in order to procure bandages. Kazuichi grimaces, but says nothing. He really doesn’t want to, truth be told. It’s...it just looks weird! It’s all wooden, too, so it doesn’t look comfortable in the slightest, and reclining here would feel completely wrong in someone else’s room. Can’t he just sit on the bed? Or, is that even worse?

Maybe if he just perches on the very front of it, it’ll be okay. He gingerly settles himself down onto the rocking chair, feeling it sink under his weight. He handles the entire affair like he would a bomb, having never felt so unsettled by a chair before. The wood feels like hell on his ass, but the feeling of the counterweight is actually pretty pleasant. This kind of pressure and the balance applied to keep it steady is an odd little thing he’s always found comfortable; it’s a bit like enjoying it when someone sits on your lap or your back.

He finds himself bouncing a little against the force of the weight of the chair as Gundham re-enters the room holding a roll of bandages in one hand, and a small first aid kit in the other. He settles himself down in front of Kazuichi, resting himself on his knees as he flips open the little box. This is a weird position. One Kazuichi wasn’t expecting. He won’t complain about it just yet though…

“D’you sit in this chair much?” he asks, with a sly grin, stretching his legs out so his heels are propped against the floor. Gundham doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but for a moment, his eyes flicker upwards with some incredulity.

“Do you see another chair in here?”

“Other than the sofa?” Kazuichi snickers. “I mean, there’s the bed, too, or the floor.”

“You sit on the floor of your own bedroom?” Gundham raises what would be an eyebrow as he unscrews the cap of a small bottle of something brown and unpleasant-looking. An intense, alcoholic stench soon permeates the air between them.

“Well, yeah! I mean, it’s traditional, right? I actually prefer sitting on the floor than sitting on a chair. More freedom of movement, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t sit on the floor at home, what with the beasts running around,” Gundham mutters, fishing around the first aid kit for some gauze. “And, sitting on that sofa doesn’t feel quite right. It’s deceptively uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I guess...well, it’s a bit like sitting on those sofas you get in hotel rooms. It’s totally weird, right? Though, since this is technically a hotel room, I guess that would make this the cuck chair.” Kazuichi rocks back in the chair for emphasis, causing it to emit a shrill squeak. Gundham halts for just a second, pulling an incredibly bewildered face before going back to what he was doing. He clamps the gauze on the open bottle of disinfectant and tips it over to saturate it.

“You seem very spry for a man who was screaming in pain only minutes ago,” Gundham replies quietly, his own retaliation to Kazuichi’s lewd assessment of his room. He could very well just kick him out now for that comment alone, but then that would mean he wouldn’t get to the fun part. His sadistic streak isn’t as big as people imagine, but it’s there all the same.

Before Kazuichi can argue, Gundham grabs his ankle and presses the gauze to the wound, and Kazuichi rockets out of the chair with all the energy of a live wire. The erupting screech is horrendous, practically cracking the windows, and now that the door is more of a curtain than a door, anyone passing by might think someone was being tortured in here. Well, there’s some truth to that…

“Agh! F-fucking hell, dude! Mind giving me some warning next time?!”

“Nope,” is the cool response, delivered through a small smile. As he begins to wipe away the blood, neatly applying disinfectant to the wound he sees now is actually quite small, Kazuichi quivers with clenched teeth, white-knuckle gripping the arms of the rocking chair. He said he wouldn’t cry in front of Gundham, but this is way more embarrassing. Any minute now, he’s expecting Gundham to just flat-out laugh in his face, but the mirth never comes. He just carries on diligently tending to the wound, not even so much as looking up.

It might be a bad idea...but it’s firmly on Kazuichi’s mind. Is there any better time to bring it up? It’s not like he’s gonna just stop treating him, is he? After he insisted on coming back here, there’s a sense of devotion to seeing a job through to the end that exudes from Gundham, and Kazuichi wonders if this is what being one of his hamsters is like. It’s remarkably gentle, which is all the more reason why it bothers him so.

After a few moments, when the room becomes completely bathed in the calming evening silence, Kazuichi shyly points it out.

“You’re...touching me.”

Gundham stops, but doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look up either, keeping his gaze fixated on the sole of Kazuichi’s foot. If it were for only a second it would seem quite natural, but now he’s just paused, and the question has become incredibly pointed. He’s...thinking about it.

“Um,” Kazuichi hums, pulling a hand up to inconspicuously cover the lower half of his face, where he begins to tap the bridge of his nose with nervous energy. “Can I...can I guess?”

Gundham remains silent. He doesn’t ask what that means, but a flicker of confusion paints his eyes. Thinking about it now, Kazuichi realises that for the whole time he’s been here, Gundham hasn’t made a single allusion to his self-proclaimed darkness or passion for the mysterious. Every word so far has been really quite normal, and maybe Kazuichi jumping in to answer his own question is just a way to preserve that. After all, it seems to be quite the rare occurrence.

He has to dredge up all of his tween memories; books he’s read, games he’s played, arbitrary playground rules. Rusted from years of disuse, his powers of juvenile reasoning are put into action once again, and the more he sinks into it, the more he can understand why Gundham might enjoy it so much. After all, it’s liberating to say whatever you wish, to imagine what makes things more interesting, and to do it without taking yourself seriously is a kind of freedom Kazuichi doesn’t think he had much of even as a kid. Sparing himself that was something he’d never gotten good at.

“Is it...erm, is it because, well, since I...gave you that con-- that shield. To, um, to stop your powers from hurting people, that-- maybe because that’s mine, it’s...making me impervious to your...touch.”

Gundham resumes his work, and Kazuichi holds his breath when the stinging begins to subside. Just when he thinks he might crack and laugh himself off in order to save himself the humiliation of not even being able to make up a fantasy correctly, Gundham softly replies, “You’re...more perceptive than you look.”

The chair beneath him no longer feels hard and unwelcoming, and Kazuichi struggles to recognise the sudden wave of warmth overcoming him, causing his insides to melt. It seeps in from the top, running right down to his legs so vividly that he swears he can feel it, and it when it reaches the tips of his toes, he can’t quite stop himself from stretching out like a cat. He tries to stifle it like a yawn, but something unexplainable totally racks his body, and he can only hope Gundham isn’t keen enough to notice. If he does, he’d be wise to keep his mouth shut since Kazuichi has so kindly done him the favour of making up an excuse on his behalf.

Gundham wordlessly begins to wrap up the wound, pressing a fresh wad of gauze to the sole of Kazuichi’s foot, and then methodically wrapping a bandage around it. It’s so unnatural how gentle his touch is when every word that comes out of his mouth crackles like lightning. As the bandage is being stuck in place, a loud silence pervades the atmosphere, and something in the room feels...expectant. The air begs for words, and when Kazuichi thinks things are feeling a little too sincere for his liking, Gundham releases his foot, and looks up at him with a thick crease between his brow.

“...So, why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

Kazuichi swallows. It’s a dumb question with a stupid answer, but who’s he got to impress? With a sheepish smack of his lips, he explains, “I...I fell asleep just before dinner, and when I woke up, I guess I was so pissed off that I just...walked out without bothering to put any on. Mahiru totally chewed me out about it whilst I was eating too. Said it was unhygienic.”

“I...don’t see how it’s any different from eating anywhere outdoors.”

“That’s what I said! Like, it’s really not the end of the world. Man, it kinda reminds me of back in middle school with people going on and on, like ‘ew, you can’t eat in the bathroom, that’s gross!’ as if it doesn’t get bleached down every single day. Like, you think I’m eating my lunch off the fucking toilet?”

“Oh,” Gundham blinks, lips pulled into a small quirk. “You...did that too.”

Kazuichi’s ranting suddenly dies in his throat, and he stumbles to answer, “Huh? Oh. Yeah, I...I did. I didn’t really-- I don’t, erm… I mean, eating in the canteen is kind of...awkward. Especially if you don’t, uh, have...anyone to sit with.” He shakes himself off with a brief laugh, adding, “But, it was fun getting some peace and quiet. If you stand out too much, people just come and bother you about it…”

Gundham shuffles backwards to sit cross-legged, resting his elbows on his knees. “That is true. Such communal spaces are often overcrowded, though the choice was not an easy one. It was between that hellish den or consuming poison. I suppose it’s obvious which I preferred.”

Oh, that’s right. His mother’s cooking is utterly atrocious, forcing him to pick between eating good food in a shit place or eating shit food in a good place. To be honest, the more he hears about it, the more curious he becomes. Would it be weird to want to try it? Just how bad is it?

“It sounds pretty gnarly, but...I don’t see how badly your ma could fuck up a packed lunch,” Kazuichi chuckles awkwardly, rocking himself backwards on the tip of his toes. “I mean, even just plain rice can’t be that difficult, can it? It’s not a huge amount of variety, but you can’t go wrong with it.”

Gundham sort of vibrates with a humourless, flat laugh, his eyes wide with warning. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But I promise, you can. I can count the number of good bowls of rice I’ve eaten at home on one hand. I’ve seen critically endangered species that aren’t as rare as that.”

Kazuichi throws up an eyebrow, disbelief in his query, “How the hell is that possible? You can’t-- you literally can’t fuck rice up. Just throw it in a rice cooker, and—”

“Ah, but we don’t have one. Rice cookers aren’t a common household item where she’s from,” Gundham tells him, flashing him a smile that could almost be construed as playful if his eyes weren’t so dull. “She’s something of a Luddite. I suppose I am too, but she is very opposed to purchasing things that, in her eyes, are unnecessary.”

Kazuichi has never had his felt so intrigued by the state of someone else’s house. Kitchen appliances are like an old friend to him, having taken them apart and reassembled them time and time again, so imagining a house without them feels so very empty. He runs a hand over his face, truly baffled by what he’s hearing.

“I mean, it sounds like it is pretty necessary in her case. Even without a rice cooker, it’s still-- you should still be able to cook rice without burning the shit out of it. Is that what happens?”

“Rarely burnt, almost always overcooked. By that point, it’s basically congee.”

“Okay, what about a slow cooker then? I mean, the function is the same, but you can just throw whatever you want in it, and you don’t have to do jack."

Gundham thinks on it for a moment, murmuring, “It would remove the elements of undercooking or overcooking, but it wouldn’t solve the flavour. She wouldn’t agree to buy one anyway. She’s heinously stubborn. It was hard enough to get her to buy a television.”

Kazuichi’s eyes bulge. “You’re kidding. Like, kitchen appliances I sorta get ‘cos you can do most of that stuff in one pot, the problem is it’s just a huge hassle, but a TV? That’s essential! Don’t get me wrong, we’ve still got one of those clunky CRT ones that are older than I am, but…”

Following an unimpressed hum, “She only came around to the idea because there was something she wanted to watch. That woman and her damn obsessions. I don’t...appreciate living a life of earthly convenience, so it usually doesn’t bother me, but if I’m going to be confined here, it should at least be bearable.” After a short pause, he then adds, “Plus, the cat likes the television, so it’s not just for my benefit.”

“Man, that’s crazy,” Kazuichi grins, pulling his legs up to fold onto the chair, careful of his wounded foot. “What was it she was wanting to watch so bad? Must be pretty good if it swayed her.”

Suddenly, Gundham chokes and insists, “It’s not. It’s none of your business.”

Kazuichi reels back. He rubs the surprise from his face and mumbles, “Erm. Sorry, then. I...uh, I don’t suppose you cook much yourself, huh? If she’s as bad as you say, isn’t that, like, the easiest solution?”

That weird little bump in the conversation is swept smoothly under the rug, though Kazuichi can feel the question burning through his brain. He tries to pay attention to Gundham’s answer, but it’s just so distracting. Why is that the thing he’s getting cagey about...? Well, it's probably best not to prod him too hard. This is the most mercy he's been granted in a conversation in a very long time. On top of that, he’s even toned down all the dark fantasy bullshit he’s always babbling about. This isn’t exactly an endeavour that Kazuichi is seeking out with any purpose, but he has a habit of following whatever makes his heart feel warm. Why it’s led him to here is still a little bit of a mystery.

“I’m adept enough at it,” Gundham admits. “Nourishing my demon beasts can sometimes require those skills, but those tasks often obstruct my own needs. She’s also...very insistent on doing those things herself, seeing as I take the form of her mortal offspring, and she feels a strong duty of care to me. I’ve tried to tell her that there’s really no need, but...it only yields...conflict.”

Kazuichi chuckles softly. “Well, duh. She’s your ma, of course she’s gonna want to do those things for you. I mean, she won’t get to do them forever. She’ll miss it! They’re always like that though. Mine once told me that if I shat my pants at thirty-five, she’d still come bring me a fresh pair if I needed them. Like, we don’t really get it like they do ‘cos we’re still pretty new to this gaff, but they’re seriously in for the long haul.”

“That’s...an unusual anecdote.”

“Well, consider it like this,” Kazuichi begins, shuffles to lean forward over one of the armrests. “You take care of your...beasts, right? I imagine you work pretty hard to keep them all happy, housed, fed, washed, entertained-- like, the list is endless, yeah? But, in that same way, that’s what mothers are all about, or at least the good ones are. My point is, it’s super hard work, but they enjoy it the same way you do. Caring for something you...love.”

Kazuichi swears he could see a flinch there, but Gundham’s expression doesn’t register surprise. In fact, it’s eerily still. So much so, it’s almost like he didn’t hear a word of it. His consideration of an answer takes some time, and his eyes flit down to skim over the lines in the floorboards. He gingerly reaches out to trace them with the tip of his finger.

“I’m inclined to disagree with you,” is the eventual reply. “Those two things, whilst very similar, are also largely different. I’m not surprised that you liken my emotions towards beasts to that of mortal love, but perhaps this is the closest way to translate that feeling in a manner that your kind can understand.”

 Bearing through a backhanded attempt at mercy, Kazuichi leans over even further, wrapping his arms around his knees. With wide, sincere eyes, he whispers, “So, then...tell me.”

 Gundham edges back, a passing flash of nervousness as their proximity is shortened, but he doesn’t shuffle away. He meets Kazuichi’s gaze for all of a second before it flutters off to linger in the middle distance. For a while, he opens and closes his mouth, indecisive on what to do.

 “It’s...not that easy.”

 “Take your time then.”

 Gundham blinks slowly. Uncertainty ebbs onto his face, a dash of bemusement to the way his lip hikes up on one side. “What’s your purpose for asking…?”

 “If I like your answer, I’ll tell you.”

 Only a few feet from Kazuichi’s cat-like eyes, Gundham visibly swallows. He doesn’t seem quite so anxious, however his lack of understanding draws serious hesitancy. He's not afraid to share his opinions here, but being asked outright throws him, especially by a guy who’s been developing their one-sided rivalry over the course of their school life. Well, there’s nothing he can say here that will jeopardise his reputation. He rolls his shoulders into a comfortable position and cracks a small smirk, amused by Kazuichi's unusually forward request, but all humour fades once he begins talking.

“It’s...many things, but if I must reduce it to a level in which you can understand, I would say the foundation of my...feelings towards animals is respect. This much shouldn’t come as a surprise to you; respect often comes with passion, but it’s far beyond just animals on their own. It’s the natural world in its entirety, and the way in which the world functions. How it came to be so.”

Kazuichi silently listens.

 “In order to truly understand these things, it’s imperative to remain...perhaps unbiased is the word to use, about concepts such as death, justice, love and so on. After all, death is as prevalent in this world as life- I’d consider it to be just as important, and just as necessary. Naturally, it’s inevitable, but all creatures are granted the instinct to combat it as fiercely as possible. Some have greater means to do so than others, but the world evolves with survival in mind, and this applies to everything. It’s uncontrollable. However, despite the fact that mortal humans and animals share this deep desire to survive, humans have cobbled together a ridiculous hierarchy that separates them. Born from that is this...obscene condescension and idea that humans have earned dominion over all.”

He pauses to look up at Kazuichi.

“Animals live purely. Even what we would consider to be heinous acts are done without hesitancy or knowledge of what we’ve decided is right or wrong. At it stands, this is now incompatible with modern human society despite the distance between civilisation and the wild, but these behaviours are still...slighted, even though these creatures do not function as we do. I see this is an unnecessarily self-absorbed standard to hold things to, seeing as their existence is not made important on this earth by their connection to humans.”

“Even so, that’s how we’re going to see it anyway, since we naturally relate to sapience wherever we find it. We apply our own feelings and experiences to the outside world in order to understand it, right? In fact, wouldn’t you say that animals see the same thing in us?”

 Gundham’s mouth hangs open for a moment, the faint lights overheard casting a burgeoning glimmer in his eyes, and he very slowly leans forwards to rest on his hands.

 “...What a fascinating answer. I think...perhaps it would be unfair to say that you’re wrong. However, the overconfidence we display in it only furthers the rift between the two. Where we condemn the behaviour of animals, we will turn around and do exactly that but with some ridiculous moral justification as to its acceptability. It’s a hypocrisy I despise.”

"I like this. I asked you to explain what you consider to be your passion for animals, but you’ve instead talked about how much you hate humans,” Kazuichi grins slyly. “Are you sure you aren’t conflating the two? I mean, I get it. Animals won’t lie to you or their intentions. They do what needs to be done. People are way more likely to hide what they’re up to and use that to their advantage. Even still, it’s pretty defeatist. Don’t get me wrong, humans are pretty shitty as a species, curse of knowledge and all that, but we also at our core do what we think we need to do to survive. With that in mind, I don’t think...you can put too much distance between us and animals.”

Gundham watches him very carefully, chewing on the corner of his lip with a stifled smile. After a moment, he says, “I mean this with no offence, but...where has this intelligence come from? I’ve never heard you speak with such conviction.”

 Kazuichi shudders with a silent laugh. “This might come as a surprise to you,” he says lowly, “but I studied a lot as a kid. Like, so much so, it totally fucked my eyesight. Y’know, I used to ace absolutely everything. I’m not an idiot.”

 Interest flickers vividly over Gundham’s face, his amusement never fading. “Is that so? I wouldn’t have imagined, but I also had no interest in speculating about your life. It’s...unexpected.”

 He’s met with a scoff. “I’m not just a mechanic, you know, my scope is a lot broader than that, and that takes a fucking huge amount of academic knowledge to make it work. I mean, just look at Miu. She’s loud-mouthed, disgusting and lazy, but she is so unbelievably clever that, like-- man, if you knew even half of the things she knows, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. I wonder if shit like that actually makes you dumb on another level.”

“Curse of knowledge, indeed.”

“Speaking of, you still haven’t given me a real answer.”

 Through narrowed eyes, something burns, competitive. “I told you it was a difficult thing to explain. Mortal understanding.”

 “Then, tell me right now that you don’t love your hamsters.”

 Kazuichi catches it perfectly, a result to his prodding. A second where something in the air aligns in just the right way that it looks as if the world has caught itself suddenly, and in that speck of time that feels more like a memory of a dream than looking at a real person. A small burst of energy has Gundham slumping forward, and a smile flickers on his face like the blink of an eye. A real smile. Hard to explain, but so very easy to ascertain; burned into the space where his head hangs, Kazuichi sees the lingering of his top lip pulled just enough over his teeth to flash the tip of his canine. Rounded at the corners of his lips, there’s something exciting and timid about it, as if the smile itself is hesitant in daring to make itself known to the world. It wants to, clearly, but now is still not the time.

“Were I to admit such a weakness aloud, true or not, the Four Dark Devas would usurp my position in a single instant, and my soul would no doubt be in pieces strewn across the cosmos. So, for the sake of my place in this universe, I shall...refrain.”

 Sitting in the place of something that leaves Kazuichi with a burning heat in his stomach so fiery that it’s giving him palpitations is a cooler smile. One that leaves no allusions to what it had just let slip. Concealing a great secret, and one that can’t be shared with even Gundham himself.

 “That’s funny,” Kazuichi bares his teeth, feeling his fingers shake with a nauseating, delightful anticipation. His head's empty, so he's got no clue where these words are coming from. “Love’s a weakness, is it? There might be some truth to that, but if you don’t care for them out of love, then what is it? Fear?”

 He doesn’t know why, but the danger he can sense radiating from Gundham, paired with a flat grin that brings to life the visage of a wolf stalking a deer, is gorgeously visceral. It’s like he can envision himself being pinned down with a single pounce, his life forfeit in a matter of seconds, but fear instead replaced with…warmth. Relief. Is that what death is supposed to be like? The panic of a fight or flight response feels so comfortable when it’s beginning to disappear. Does masochism like this exist in the raw natural world?

 “I’ll forgive your unwise misstep on this rather unusual occasion. Were this hours ago, the curse I would’ve laid upon your mortal soul would’ve been so catastrophic that the very essence of your spirit and the spirits of every one of your blood relatives would’ve dissolved into eternal nothingness.”

 Well, if he’s already slack in the jaws of the wolf, where else is he going to go?

 “Will you...let me make one more mistake, then?”

 Unmoved. Not a hint of life, but bleeding with something that really could be considered otherworldly. Upon the silence, Kazuichi hears a tentative but confident, "What?”

 “You started off your explanation by referring to humans as ‘them’, but towards the end, you started saying ‘we’. Why is that?”

 When the wolf bites down, its grin doesn’t fade. Gundham's eyes flash, and Kazuichi jolts.

 “That, you inexplicable mortal, is something I will never, ever tell you.”

 Not that, to Kazuichi, it ever needs to be said. The bond between animal and human is intimate, sharing life and death, home and love, infinitely closer than the connection to a distant, passing god. The otherworldly has no hope of establishing itself as anything than a vast outsider, making Gundham’s extraordinary bond to the tiny, temporary specks of life that adorn this very small corner of the universe an anomaly. Well, that’s what you would call it if you felt like granting him that merciful convenience. Kazuichi is smarter than that though.

 He really has to hand it to him. Through tenacity and passion, it really is the most compelling disguise.

Chapter Text

Trying to sleep after the events of the day is certainly an endeavour. Even after winding down, fulfilling the nightly routine and crawling into bed with toothpaste still smeared on the side of his jaw, the excitement is still fizzing in the air around him. Kazuichi can’t stop himself from tossing and turning, throwing his legs out wherever feels most comfortable, and wrapping himself into knots within his duvet.

Just what the hell was all of that? The entire day has been spiritual whiplash. Bitter resentment bubbling over, uncertain steps in conversation, being granted a small, treasured solace by what felt like a god of unparalleled magnitude, all the way out to feeling the rush of being pursued and caught in an electric conversation that pulls the kind of intelligence out of him that he’d rather beat down and forget about. It’s all so uncanny. He doesn’t remember ever behaving like this, like his personality is being led around by something unknown, and he certainly can’t figure out what’s making him feel so giddy.

Today, for all its ups and downs, had been incredibly entertaining. He’s not sure how or why he’d imagine that because this is so far out of his comfort zone that he doesn’t even know where he’s ended up, but the feelings don’t lie. His stomach ripples with pent-up energy.

Had he been stupid for getting so arrogant towards the end of their conversation? Gundham normally carries that around in such great measures that it overshadows just about everything else, but Kazuichi can’t decide it for himself. He feels himself flipping between timid fascination and daring antagonism. The difference between his middle school and high school self, unable to find a balance between the two.

He’s indecisive about his own perceptions of Gundham now, too, which is frustrating because they’re utterly contradictory. The chuunibyou levels of self-importance and grandeur are still so cringe-inducing, but the imagination and passion behind them, masking something that piques his curiosity, really catch his attention. He’s enthralled. God knows why, against all his usual characteristic interest, but he can’t deny it. The insomnia fuelled by frazzled, overexcited nerves is becoming his punishment for betraying the person he’s supposed to be.

His foot still aches, but there’s a tingle around his ankle where Gundham had been holding it earlier. Mockingly, he thinks maybe Gundham had been right about having poison touch or whatever it was he’d claimed. Against his better judgement, he’s actually starting to get his head around his bizarre tendencies and bloated speech patterns. When Gundham is left to talk about something he actually gives half a damn about, he’s pretty articulate, and Kazuichi still can’t get the image of it out of his head; the sudden sparkle in his dark eyes the moment Kazuichi had dared to square up to him against his own explanation.

If he thinks about it for too long, his stomach starts to churn with anxiety. He curls up tightly on the mattress, pressing his knees up against the cold part of the wall beside the bed. He’s spent a lot of time learning how to be purposely dense, but that’s not going to do him any good here. Ignorance is bliss, and he’s got enough of that to keep his life balanced, but it’s remarkably hard to fake in cases where he yearns for it. If none of this mattered to him, he wouldn’t be spending so much time thinking about it. With that being the case, the question he can’t figure out is why the hell would it matter to him at all?

And then there’s Sonia, which is always a brilliant start to any foray into his own ego. He wants her so bad that it makes him look three levels of stupid, and he knows that, but the passion is so strong it throws every ounce of shame he has out the window. It’s hard not to feel so completely in love with her all the time when she’s a perfect picture of everything he’s ever wanted. She checks every box imaginable; she’s pretty, intelligent, athletic, talented, interesting, passionate- it’s everything. The whole shebang.

But, it’s just checking boxes isn’t it? That doesn’t make him love her any less, but it does evoke a pang of guilt when he admits that to himself- that half the reason she’s so appealing is because she’s everything, not because he actually needs all those individual traits. He wonders if she knows that, the way she politely sidesteps every attempt he makes in getting closer to her. His hopeful side prays that his inner thoughts remain a mystery, but his ridiculous devotion to the princess tells him she can see right through him.

In a weird way, Gundham is also everything, though in an incredibly unconventional sense. Confidence in buckets and sharp as a tack, but neither thing highlights him as a good person. He’s got an odd aura of nobility about him for a commoner who spends the bulk of his time cleaning out animal cages, and his thorny, condescending exterior effortlessly masks the terrifying amount of compassion he holds for the world as a whole, including the mortals he so enjoys talking down to. Kazuichi knows somehow that the guy is full of holes, but it’s hard to spot them when he’s so emotionally resilient. For someone with such an overactive imagination, he’s jarringly down to earth about things that matter, and the facade of a dark lord conceals a unique mind.

Either way, when you put those two together, they seem to make a perfect couple. Kazuichi despises it, but not as much as he despises the fact that it’s so glaringly obvious that even he can’t deny it, not even with all the mental gymnastics in the world. He’d need some Akane-levels of empty-headedness to get himself through it, but sadly, Akane is truly unmatched in her unfortunate intelligence. It’s a dream of an escape. A way to wade through the shit without having to get dirty. Thinking about them together makes his throat hurt, his stomach ache, and his head throb, but as is always the way with pain, he starts to think that’s maybe how it should be.

It’s an excellent cycle. Ever inept in social affairs, he fucks up, the shame hits him, he fucks up further in an attempt to rectify the first fuck-up, the burden grows heavier, the people around him snap, and then comes the glorious period of self-isolation to rub salt into the wound. It’s hard to feel satisfied with punishment unless you’re able to get a kick in at yourself, or at least that’s what Kazuichi thinks. It sort of takes the edge off of outside judgement. After all, nobody can fuck you up better than yourself, and with that being the case, everything that happens on the outside is just water off a duck’s back.

Except it isn’t. It still hurts, and he still finds himself running in circles trying to make sense of it. Self-regulation doesn’t come easily to him, and no amount of beatings is going to make it stick. Just when he thinks he’s moving in the right direction, he’s back at square one, and dreams only of giving up. He gave up himself by changing his appearance, he gave up his studies to muck about in the shop, and now he think he might give up Sonia with the selfish idea that it’s more important to spite himself than value her decisions.

With that, he buries his head under his pillow, knowing full well what an asshole he is for thinking it, but knowing doesn’t make him care enough to change the habit. Ignorance can’t save him now. If it could, he wouldn’t be spending so much time exposing himself to the guy he wishes he was.

The glittering sun rises on an absolutely foul mood emanating from Kazuichi’s cottage, which spills out into the world the moment he opens his front door. He’d slept like shit, his nerves are frazzled and his foot still fucking hurts, so when he pulls himself out of bed with a temper like brewing thunder, he decides to dedicate himself to productivity. The greatest perk of being in a bad mood is the that motivation no longer matters, and his lack of desire to cheer himself up drags him through all the crappy chores he’d normally avoid doing. If the day feels like shit, you might as well throw yourself into a task, and with his head still firmly stuck in yesterday, he thinks he can make good progress on finding out what happened to Gundham’s door, with or without his help.

This time, he really does make eating a short affair. As he wolfs down a bowl of rice, lingering by the door with a scowl on his face, he thinks for a moment about Gundham’s description of his mother’s cooking. It doesn’t appear for any particular reason. It simply is. He throws the empty bowl into the kitchen and stalks away before anyone can even notice him, let alone recognise his sour expression.

His first port of call is naturally Hajime, seeing as they’d not spoken the day before, and Kazuichi had been trying to emulate his keen eye in particular with the hopes of digging up something substantial to aid his search. On top of that, he thinks now more than ever he could use the shoulder of his soul-friend, so the moment he spies Hajime wandering listlessly past Jabberwock Park, he makes his move.

He scampers up to Hajime’s side, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt and slowing himself to match his easygoing pace. Hajime’s the kind of solid, reliable character that Kazuichi always finds comforting- a little like a certain friend he’d clung to for quite a while in middle school.

“Hey, dude,” he greets, forcing a smile. He thinks he’s got this whole interaction in the bag, but he could not be further from the truth. As if seeing right into his head, purposeful in denying him any solace, Hajime meets his gaze and squints at him as if he’s just seen something awful. Kazuichi swallows.

“W-wh...what? What are you looking at me like that for?”

Hajime quirks a brow, his expression remaining distinctly unnerved. “What are you pulling that face for? You look scary…”

Reduced to tears in record time. An excellent start. With a heavy huff, Kazuichi forcefully wipes his eyes before that telltale glimmer of weakness makes itself known, hoping to hide his wound with a scowl as he spits, “Wow, that’s a great way to greet a friend. Gimme a break…”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” Hajime laughs awkwardly, giving Kazuichi a gentle nudge on the arm. “It’s just, you look kind of...intense. Um. Are you…? You seem a bit—”

The moment he senses an opening to let loose, Kazuichi dissolves into a loud, whiny groan, allowing himself to slump with exhaustion. As a few nearby birds are startled into taking to the sky, the dry smile on Hajime’s face indicates he’d been anticipating something along these lines. He remains silent, patiently allowing Kazuichi to start rambling.

“It’s been a complete nightmare, man! First, I get roped into fixing Gundham’s front door, then I’m suddenly tracking down the dumbass responsible for it, and it’s just-- ugh! I got a screw stuck in my foot, my shoes are still full of sand, Ibuki keeps being fucking weird, and I swear I slept, like, fifteen minutes total last night.”

Hajime sighs, but not out of irritation; a sigh of understanding mastered by a fine listener. They grind to a halt, loitering in the plaza of the park where the trees rustle in the breeze around them. It seems like such a lovely day, but the dull aura radiating from Kazuichi’s lifeless-looking form is really stark. Hajime almost feels depressed just watching him, and it seems like he’s had a real time of it recently.

“I heard about that,” he replies placidly. “The door, I mean. It’s a pretty bizarre thing to happen. I mean, if it wasn’t Hiyoko…”

“It wasn’t, we checked. She might’ve set the stupid thing adrift, but she’s not responsible for ripping the damn thing off its hinges. Not unless she’s a godly liar, and the world can...just-- fucking contort itself to her benefit.”

“I have no horse in this race, but if you asked me to make an educated guess, could it have been some kind of animal? I mean, that is Gundham’s whole deal, right? Are there any animals on the island that could do that?”

Kazuichi always finds himself stunned by Hajime’s flexibility in any situation. In no time at all, he’s making up theories that could actually hold water, and Kazuichi feels like he’s being blessed with a heaven-sent helping hand. If only Hajime had been around yesterday, they’d probably have gotten to the bottom of this by now, and Kazuichi wouldn’t have gone to bed in a huff, he wouldn’t have gotten up without shoes, he wouldn’t have gotten a bloody screw stuck in his foot, and...likely, he wouldn’t have wound up having that unusual conversation with Gundham.

It throws him for a moment, and he has to stumble back onto the conversation at hand, stammering, “Erm, I...well, I guess it’s hard to say. I mean, there’s that cow at the ranch, but that seems unlikely. I don’t really notice animals around the place. I kind of faze them out, y’know? I s’pose Gundham would know though…”

Hajime taps a finger to his chin in thought, then shrugging with indifference, “Yeah. I feel like if it had been an animal, Gundham would’ve figured that out by now. Have you spoken to everyone else?”

Kazuichi sighs, muttering, “Just about. Still missing a few…”

Hajime watches him for a second, a contentment passing over his eyes that Kazuichi rarely notices, often when he’s the focus of his fond thoughts. A small crease begins to form between Hajime’s brows, a flash of hesitance, as he asks, “Is that what’s getting you down? That face you were pulling earlier, you’d think someone had...I dunno, thrown all your tools into the sea.”

“Don’t tempt fate, dude,” Kazuichi warns, with a huff. “I don’t think I can take any more of this. Y’know, we were walking around talking to people, and then Sonia- we bump into her, we talk a little- I didn’t even say anything weird this time, and I swear, she thought I was the one who tore up Gundham’s cottage! Can you believe that? Like I’d help fix a mess that I made.”

Hajime blinks slowly, registering the fact that, once again, the topic has come right back to Sonia, the unfortunate target of Kazuichi’s obnoxious affections. He steels himself for what he supposes is going to be the exact same conversation they had about her the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that...

“She totally blanked me too,” Kazuichi whines, running a hand over his pale, sleep-deprived face. “Like, it hurts, man. I know I’ve got no chance, but...I at least want to make her, y’know...happy.”

“I get it.”

“Maybe Gundham would be a better fit for her…”

Hajime’s eyes widen fractionally. That’s new. He’s not said that before. He chews his lip thoughtfully before replying, “Maybe so. They get along pretty well, or at least that’s how it seems to me.”

Kazuichi looks away, an overwhelming amount of sorrow in his eyes, and Hajime feels like he’s just kicked a puppy. Even so, despite feeling strongly for his poor friend, he can’t lie to him, especially not to protect him from a pretty obvious truth. He was bound to reach this conclusion in the end, and it’s preferable that it happens sooner rather than later.

Softly, Hajime asks, “Were you hoping I’d try and convince you otherwise?”

“...a little.”

“I’m sorry, dude. You know I can’t do that. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell it to you straight? If she’s not interested, she’s not interested, there’s not much you can do about that. Still, there’s always other people out there. Erm, there’s...probably a lot of princesses out there in the world, too, if that’s really what you like…”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Kazuichi glares, his eye reflecting Hajime’s sheepish grin. “It’s not about that. I mean, it kind of is-- it’s not the whole thing! Even as princesses go, she’s gotta be the best of the best. Whatever, it’s not about that, I don’t care if she is a princess or not. She’s just...I just...man, what the hell does Gundham have that I don’t?”

Although Hajime had said so himself, he thinks maybe this time around he’ll shield Kazuichi from as much of the honest truth as he can, clapping him on the shoulder and telling him, “Well, you’re both completely different, y’know? He also doesn’t act very interested. I think...maybe girls like that kind of thing?”

“So, if I act like I don’t care—”

“Stop trying to convince yourself it’ll work out. It won’t. “

“I know. I know, I just… I mean, this is kind of how things worked with all those other girls. They were kinda scary, y’know? They’d just come up to me, and even if I walked away, it was all… Man, I don’t even know how to describe it! Girls are weird. I don’t get them at all.”

“What are you, five? That’s such a little kid thing to say. They’re not some different species, they’re just people.”

“Yeah, and I don’t understand them either! Seriously, sometimes I think Gundham has it right, hanging out with animals all the time instead of humans. Why’s everything gotta be so difficult?”

Hajime just sighs, running a hand through the choppy locks of his hair. He can kind of understand where the struggle comes from, but he can’t completely relate, finding himself pretty resilient in his social endeavours, good or bad. Still, if it wasn’t such a problem for Kazuichi, he wouldn’t be losing real sleep over it. It’s a little concerning, actually.

“I think,” Hajime begins, “that you kind of get used to it one way or another. I don’t know how, but...I think that’s just how it works out. I mean, it’s gotta be experience, right? If you think about it, keeping yourself away from people like Gundham does can’t be good for your...I guess, social skills? Not that I mind talking to him, but he’s pretty, uh...difficult to understand.”

Weakly, Kazuichi defends, “It’s not that bad once you get used to it. He’s alright if you can get him to talk normally for a little while…”

Hajime tilts his head. “Huh? You’ve changed your tune a bit. How’d you figure that? I thought you hated the guy.”

Kazuichi looks as if he’s going to start crying, and he mumbles, “It’s complicated. I spent so much time with him yesterday looking for that damn door…”

Hajime can only stare with wild concern, his sole idea of the events of the day before being vaguely pieced together by plucking things out of the appropriate context. He’s not sure what to say. What Kazuichi is saying is quite kind, it doesn’t sound like a bad thing at all, but he looks so terrorised by the notion of it. Is this why he’s beginning to come around to the idea of Gundham and Sonia developing a relationship? It may very well be for the better, but there’s no doubt that it stings.

“So, then...what do you think you’re going to do now?”

“Huh?”

“You’re still looking for-- well, I guess investigating what happened the other night, right? Do you still want to help Gundham find out who’s responsible?”

Kazuichi thinks about it for a minute, running the back of his hand across his nose to wipe away the snot pooled from his brewing tears. He sniffs loudly, eventually muttering, “I guess I do. I mean, half the reason I wanted to help in the first place was ‘cos I wanted to know what happened. It’s a pretty weird situation, right? It’s not like I meant to follow Gundham around all day. Plus, he did help me take care of the wound on my foot, so…”

Hajime isn’t sure why, but that line of reasoning doesn’t sound a bit like Kazuichi’s normal conduct. It’s a flimsy excuse, one that wouldn’t drag him into fulfilling any self-imposed sense of responsibility, so it strikes him as noticeably odd. Still, with that thought on the verge of his mind, he can’t make any sense of why it’s a point Kazuichi feels the need to proclaim.

“I guess it’s good to see a job through to the end, regardless of the reason, isn’t it?” Hajime smiles with encouragement, giving Kazuichi another nudge to perk him up a bit. “Whether you want to or not, helping out is always a good thing. Isn’t that what you always said you wanted to do? You wanna help people out, right?”

“Ugh,” Kazuichi groans. “When you say it like that, you make me sound like a little kid. Okay, sure, I want to help people. Is that a good enough reason?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I...I dunno! I just-- you said I don’t need a reason—”

“I didn’t say that. I mean, I guess you don’t really need a reason, but—”

“Even so, I just… Is that weird? Like, even though I don’t even like the guy, I’m still…”

“I thought you said—”

“I said it was complicated! I didn’t say I liked him!”

Saying that aloud suddenly causes Kazuichi’s tongue to burn. What a weird collection of words to say. He’s not entirely sure what liking the guy has to do with the situation, but upon further thought, it’s really everything to do with the situation. Does that offer him any clarity? Not at all. All it does is make him feel like he’s admitting something awful, and it stokes the observant Hajime’s sceptical nature in the process. Does he have to like Gundham in order to admit he’d be a good match for his beloved princess? Would liking him make the ordeal easier to swallow or render it devastatingly bitter?

“Kazuichi,” Hajime says lowly, searching the other boy’s face for a hint of understanding. “What are you actually upset about here?”

“I don’t know! Do you think if I knew I’d be standing here spewing dumb shit at you?”

“I suppose not. I mean, I know you’re upset about Sonia, but...it kind of feels like something else is bothering you.”

Kazuichi throws his hands out in frustration, barking, “And, what would that even be?! What the hell is there to be that pissed off about? So, I like Sonia. I love her. It’ll never work out, sure, I get it-- I hate it, but there’s nothing I’ll ever be able to do about it, is there? I should just let her get on with the guy she clearly has a thing for, and just...fucking, I dunno, fade off into the background. That’s it, right?”

“You don’t...need to get like that—”

“I’m not trying to! You said it, that’s what I’m upset about, yeah? It’s ‘cos I’m not over her. There’s…there wouldn’t be anything else to get upset about. Maybe it’s because it’s Gundham. Like, I guess he’s my rival or whatever, if you could call it that, and maybe I’m angry ‘cos I’ve lost to him. I’m...being a sore loser.”

What a shameful admission. To admit he’s lost to an idiot he thought so little of, at least up until yesterday. If Gundham’s a walking social catastrophe, what the hell does that make him? He’s never gotten into the habit of being truly competitive, knowing that losing, being the inferior party, only sours his mood. Perhaps having excused himself from the practise has made him unprepared for the bigger battles in life.

He palms at his eyes, feeling the heat of tears spilling over, and with a muffled grumble, he hurries to excuse himself from Hajime’s presence. Despite Hajime’s concerned calls riding the length of soft tropical air between the two of them, growing as he storms away, Kazuichi feels really quite lonely.

Chapter Text

Spurred by spite and an inability to sit down, Kazuichi spends a good chunk of his morning kicking up dust around the island as he scrambles to dig up clues that may lead him to a conclusion. Out of the remaining students left to be interrogated, he’d only managed to bump into Fuyuhiko and Peko, but they’d been quietly chatting together and enjoying each other’s company, so he’d left them to it with a fierce lump in his throat. With such unfortunate timing on his part, he’d imagined that the day couldn’t get any more bleak, but life really likes to kick a guy when he’s down.

Bypassing the car park outside of the diner, he almost walks straight into Gundham. That on its own might not be so bad, considering that Kazuichi feels some rough desire to speak to him again, but seeing Sonia’s bright, shining eyes peeking out from behind him is an indescribably horrible feeling. Kazuichi feels bad enough that the sight of her has reduced him to such a sorry state, and he’d really like to grovel for her forgiveness about it. This time, however, he’s keen to keep his mouth shut.

“Mortal,” is Gundham’s short greeting.

Kazuichi tilts his head slightly, offering his own lacklustre response. “Erm. G’morning- or is it afternoon already?”

“Not yet,” Sonia smiles primly, the sunlight above casting a pale glow over the thin strands of her hair. Kazuichi swallows thickly, trying his very best not to look.

An inoffensive exchange. They have no real reason to chat further, and even though Kazuichi would love nothing more than to spin on his heel and leave them to it, he feels compelled to report his meagre findings. The need to remind them both that he still exists. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, words failing his open mouth. He could just shut up right now and go. That’s never a bad solution to the problem.

“Uh. Oh. I, erm...I was talkin’ to Hajime earlier. I thought I’d ask if he’d seen anythin’ about your door, but he hadn’t. Not much luck there.”

Gundham receives the information with a curt nod, a brief, soft flash of appreciation passing over his eyes. Kazuichi wonders for a moment if he’s still wearing the contacts he gave him, or if he’d gone and fetched some new ones from the supermarket. He doesn’t know which possibility he likes less.

“Oh, you’re still investigating?” Sonia asks, with her usual pleasant temperament. There is, however, a faint tinge of surprise to her words, though not imbued with any real malice, regardless of how Kazuichi might interpret it. In response, he hangs his head a little.

“I, erm...yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all,” Sonia beams. “The two of us are also going to have a look around. It is unfortunate I couldn’t lend a hand yesterday, tied up as I was with Mikan.”

An ungodly choice of words, and Kazuichi can’t even feel tempted to get excited by the idea of it. It just sucks as a concept. He tries to bite back a grimace, feeling very much like a third wheel to this strange endeavour he’d been employed to fix. Is he overstepping somehow? He is only trying to help out, but is there a point where helping becomes unhelpful? Unwanted?

“Oh, right. How did that go?”

“It went very well, thank you,” Sonia replies kindly, giving Kazuichi a polite bow of the head. “I learned a great deal. Now, if only I could get some hands-on experience, I am sure I will become very adept at first aid!”

Kazuichi snorts, the dull ache gnawing at his heel beginning to tingle- he lightly taps the tip of his shoe against the ground to try and shake it out. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but as if preceding the topic, it prompts Gundham to glance down.

“Speaking of, have you sought out the healer yet?” he asks, narrowed eyes peering over the fabric of his scarf. “Whilst my aid is acceptable, no amount of bandages can cure tetanus. It would be wise to head to the hospital before disease takes ahold of you.”

Kazuichi opens his mouth, a little daunted by what is far more care offered by Gundham than is usual. He stammers for a moment, unable to respond, and frankly a little reluctant to throw the idea back in his face. He doesn’t want to pin so much personal feeling on the events of last night, but they still linger vividly in his mind. If he ignores the concept of liking or hating the guy, what transpired between them had still been...exciting.

“Oh?” Sonia perks up, holding a hand to her open mouth. “Kazuichi, are you injured?”

“Huh? Oh, um, just...just a little. It’s no big deal.”

“Tetanus is a very big deal!” Sonia replies firmly, her brows neatly knitting together. “Did you stand on something? Perhaps I could look at it for you.”

Kazuichi’s heart stutters, skipping over several very important beats. Through a wheeze, he manages to choke out, “But, I thought you—”

“I learnt how to administer first aid from Mikan certainly, but I do have basic medical knowledge too. After all, it is required learning for a princess in my country. I should at the very least understand the premise of most medical procedures. If I may not help directly, then I can triage.”

That’s still a lot to learn. Kazuichi should feel impressed, but he’s currently drowning. He’d always thought the abyss would be a dark and cold place, but in the face of the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, it’s so light and comfortable. He should be enjoying this. If he loves her like he thinks he does, he should jump at the chance to let her try out her skills and savour the experience of being cared for by her. He should grab the opportunity now, even if he’s coming to understand that things will never happen between them. Could there be a better last moment to say goodbye to his feelings?

It’s nothing like that in reality though. He feels frozen. He’d give a deer in headlights a run for its money, and where he’d always imagined her gentle touch on him to feel nothing short of angelic, the idea of it just seems mortifying. The spot around his ankle where Gundham had held him only the night before starts to itch.

With all that circulating, the only thing he can churn out is, “N-no, thanks. You...you shouldn’t really do that.”

Sonia quirks a brow, pursing her lips with dissatisfaction, having heard this dismissive rambling before. “I...see. I was hoping perhaps I could put my new skills to good use. It is important, after all, and I am not useless, Kazuichi.”

“I-I’m not saying that you are! It’s not that at all…”

“If you are worried that I am unfit to aid you—”

“I just don’t want you touching me!”

He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, and he certainly hadn’t meant to yell it directly into Sonia’s face. The sight of her widening eyes, the way she shrinks back in surprise, it feels like it’s killing him. The sensation of blood draining from his face, dropping down into his trembling legs, makes him think he might just pass out on the spot. He nervously grasps at the loose fabric of his pockets, making a vain attempt to swallow the barest amount of saliva he’s able to make. The air between the three students grows abnormally cold for the kind of tropical climate they’re in, and Kazuichi feels painfully responsible for it.

Eventually, not one to back away from a terse, unwelcome situation, Sonia quietly replies, “I see. It was not my intention to overstep. I...apologise.”

“Fear not, dark queen,” Gundham offers helpfully, casting an intense gaze over Kazuichi. “Much like my own cursed touch, this mortal is occasionally stricken with the kind of burden that forces him to keep others at bay. Pay it no mind.”

The translation comes far too easily to Kazuichi for his own comfort, and knowing that this is Gundham’s own way of sparing him the tension, justifying his irritability, makes him feel distinctly sick. He’s torn suddenly, knowing that he’d craved kindness, spending his time following it and seeing where it would take him, but the feeling of it settling on his nerves just elicits anxiety. Indifference is one thing, but feeling any amount of pity from these two in tandem is violently unpleasant.

“W-would you shut up?! I-- I’m fucking nothing like you!”

He knows the mistake he’s making as soon as the venom spews from his lips, and he doesn’t dare look up to gauge their no doubt unsettled reactions. He’s used to being called a coward, and in this scenario it only gives him ammo to fight himself with, so he has no qualms about flouncing off before they have any chance to respond. After all, he’d done the very same with Hajime earlier in the morning, a pattern he’s beginning to notice.

As he stalks away, the act of stamping his foot too hard against the ground causes a ripple of pain to rocket through his ankle, and his flounce soon becomes a fumble.

The peculiarity of having an entire island at the disposal of a handful of teenagers is that finding an empty, quiet place to run away to is both easy and difficult in equal measure. Out on the thick tracks of sand lining the uneven shapes cut into the landscape, Kazuichi finds himself a solitary spot on the beach where he can flop down, close his eyes, and try to forget about everything. The pain in his foot lulls, soon becoming a pleasant ache that he can anchor his attention to as he splays himself out under the sun.

It’s an easy enough spot to find, but apparently not an easy enough spot to keep. Peace lasts roughly around six minutes, perhaps five seconds thirty if you’re counting the tiresome anticipation of hearing the approach of faint trudging. Kazuichi doesn’t open his eyes, even when the sunlight blaring through his eyelids is blotted out by a dark shadow.

“Looks comfy down there. Are you alright?”

The response is a lengthy, nasally exhale, but for the unusual voice tickling at his ears, he cracks open an eye. The sun flickers as his sight adjusts, and he can just about make out the dim, backlit face of Nagito hovering over him. He’s got some fucking timing.

“...m’fine.”

With a smile in his voice, “I was just making sure you hadn’t keeled over and died. It certainly looked like it from where I was standing.”

“And where were you standing?”

Nagito stretches back up to his full height, still blocking out enough sun for Kazuichi to look up at him through narrowed eyes. He extends a thin hand to point at a small outcrop a couple of hundred yards behind them. His expression is oddly dreamy, as if he’s drifting through the world with the barest amount of awareness.

“Up there. I thought I’d try climbing up to one of the higher points on this islands, but...I ended up slipping and falling off.”

The laugh that follows is husky and deeply disturbing, as if trying to provoke fate into dealing another unfortunate blow. Realising just who is actually standing next to him, Kazuichi suddenly bolts upright, skittering backwards over the sand with eyes like pinpricks. This kind of devastating luck is not something he needs right now. As if the day hadn’t been hard enough, having Nagito around is only going to make it worse. To the malevolent forces of the world, Nagito’s presence is practically an invitation.

When Kazuichi looks at him now, a proper look at his figure under the light of the midday sun, he can piece together the events leading up to now with startling accuracy. Despite Nagito’s easygoing smile, he’s got a huge smear of sand up his side, reaching all the way from his knee to his hair. There’s a sizeable scrape along his cheek, and the splinters of seashells embedded into the arms of his hoodie. He looks like he’s been dragged through a sandpit backwards.

“Jesus, dude, are you-- did you break anything? Are you hurt…?”

Nagito just wafts a hand dismissively. “I think I’m alright, maybe just a little beaten up. Though, at this point, I’m getting bruises on bruises,” he chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets . He begins to stretch out his shoulders with a grimace, an indication of his aching body. “Some luck I’ve got. I’ve got a welt on my back now the size of a manhole cover.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised considerin’ you fell off a cliff.”

“Huh? Oh, no, that one’s from days ago. It’s still pretty sore…”

“What the hell have you been doing?”

“I should ask you the same thing. What’re you lying here in the sand for? It’s a little weird to sunbathe with clothes on, isn’t it?”

Kazuichi’s gaze on him becomes flat and heavy, his feet loosely shifting in the sand, creating small dunes between the two of them. For a second, he pouts, hoping to remain pointedly silent, but staying quiet has never really been his strong suit. Not unless he’s got something he really wants to hide, anyway.

“Needed to be alone,” is what he admits. “I’m tired as hell, and it’s not even lunchtime yet. I slept like shit.”

As a silent message, it’s quite obvious in the implication that Nagito would find better company elsewhere, but Nagito is selectively dense, instead choosing to flop down onto the sand beside Kazuichi. He rakes his legs upwards, resting his elbows on his knees, and a brief wince racks his expression.

“Yeah, I feel you,” he says, a breezy tone laced with soft understanding. “I haven’t been sleeping great either. I think something bit me the other night as well, my ankle is all itchy.”

“I imagine you haven’t, if you’re covered in bruises like that. Seriously, you look like a walking domestic. Someone’s gonna call social services on you.”

Nagito snickers, a thin whistling noise flickering from between his teeth. He runs a hand over the tender spot on his side, his lips stretching outwards with discomfort as his touch elicits a sting. “It’s alright if I lie still, but...truth be told, this big bruise I’ve got just appeared overnight. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think someone was coming into my room and using me as a punching bag. Hahah, can you imagine?”

Kazuichi scoffs, watching him with wary eyes, as if his poor luck were somehow contagious. “With your luck, I wouldn’t be surprised. Are you lockin’ your door at night? Maybe you’ve got some...I dunno, some animal coming in at night and running around the place, or maybe a pervert.”

“That’s a pretty disturbing thought,” Nagito says, an awkward smile blooming on his face. “But, I don’t think even Teruteru would go that far. I do lock my door though, so I can’t figure out how anyone or anything could get in. Maybe I’m just...falling off the bed, or something.”

“Guess we can add that to the pile of mysteries,” Kazuichi sighs, resting his chin on his hand. He gazes out onto the horizon, watching the way the distant sparkle of the waves cut lines between the sea and the sky. With his attention elsewhere, he misses the passing look of curiosity that gives Nagito’s face a playful glow.

“Hm? Is there something else going on?”

Kazuichi clicks his tongue with exasperation. “Only a missing door.”

“Ah, is this why Gundham’s cottage is looking a little...less private? I suppose that ingenious door design is your handiwork, eh?”

“You bet,” is Kazuichi’s dry response. “We figured out that Hiyoko tossed the damn thing into the sea, but as for how the door travelled from Gundham’s cottage to the middle of the walkway in the first place is still a ball-ache of a mystery.”

“Ahah...tossed into the sea?”

“Don’t ask. The less I think about that conversation, the better.”

Nagito sits back with a wide, carefree beam, but there’s a touch of excitement to the scrunch of his nose that admits ferocious deductive thought. “So, did you get deployed to solve this bizarre little mystery? I gotta say, I’m a little surprised. I didn’t think you and Gundham were on good terms, or...civil terms, for that matter.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Nagito raises a brow, but says nothing more on it. Instead, he chooses to say, “I wish I could help you more, but I don’t know anything about it. It’s a pretty specific mystery though, don’t you think? I mean, if you’d want to terrorise a person, there are more efficient ways, but I kinda like the psychological aspect of it. It’s very subtle.”

Kazuichi doesn’t like the intrigued grin he’s seeing sitting next to him, and he wonders briefly if Nagito is just fucking with him, knowing far more than he lets on. He tries not to entertain the idea, deciding that he is so often more trouble than he’s worth. Then again, if it all goes tits-up, he can always pin the blame on him. It’s believable enough and nobody will care, probably not even Nagito.

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering,” Kazuichi sighs. “I’ve got no idea. No clues. What even has enough force to break down a door? Not to mention drag it all that way…”

“Break down? You’re saying it was brute force?”

“Well, it must’ve been. Hiyoko said the hinges on it were totally bust, and I even ended up stepping on one of the loose screws left behind. Definitely doesn’t seem like it was removed efficiently.”

“And, you’re sure it wasn’t Nekomaru?”

Kazuichi thinks back to the wheelbarrow race, and curtly replies, “Pretty sure.”

Nagito puts a finger to his chin, his eyes glazing over as they wander into the middle distance. “That’s pretty weird though, isn’t it? Well, first of all, I’d imagine Gundham would’ve heard—”

“He had headphones on. Didn’t hear a thing.”

“H-how loud did he--? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. If that’s not viable, then what about the hamsters? They’re nocturnal creature too, aren’t they? Don’t you think they’d have seen what happened?”

Kazuichi pauses, realisation dawning on his face as he begins to thoughtfully nibble at his fingernails. His brows slowly crease together, and he murmurs, “Yeah, actually, you-- you have a point! But, if that were true, then Gundham would’ve heard about it ages ago.”

“Not only that, but if a door is broken down from the outside, then it would fall inside the building, wouldn’t it? So, how did it end up outside?”

“Dude, I-- look, I wish I knew! This whole thing is stupid, it doesn’t make a lick of sense. I-I don’t even know why I’m still going on with it, it’s not even my problem.”

“And now you’ve got me curious about it, too,” Nagito chuckles. “Maybe you shouldn’t force it though, truth tends to come to light over time. Although, saying it like that, I’m starting to sound like Chiaki…”

There’s another person Kazuichi has yet to talk to about the situation, though he can’t tell how much help she’ll be. She’s shockingly perceptive, but he thinks it’d feel a bit emasculating having his hand held through an investigation by a girl who’s greater talent above gaming is falling asleep whilst completely upright. Not that he’s trying to prove anything to anyone through this, but saying that, even if he was, he’d probably lack the self-awareness to notice it. With that hopelessness in his mind, he collapses back onto the sand with a meagre whine.

“How do you do this stuff? You, Hajime, Chiaki...you three are always the best at deductive reasoning or whatever the hell else you call it. Seriously, it’s murder when we’re all playing a game together. The rest of us never stand a chance!”

Laughing it off with a nervous wave of the hand, Nagito insists, “Don’t forget, it’s mostly just luck on my part. I think you’re praising me too highly here.”

“There’s no way, like-- I get it’s luck, but you still have that kind of...I dunno, you’re pretty sharp. How do you get from all this evidence to a conclusion?”

Nagito shrugs, but with a wry quirk of the lips, he murmurs, “The same way you build your machines, I guess. Take everything you have and see how it all fits together. Though, if you’re trying to build something out of unfamiliar parts, I guess...I guess I just go through it all one step at a time. Saying that, I suppose that’s how you’d solve any other problem too. It’s not really helpful, is it?”

“Maybe not, but...it’s just how you even get to do that in the first place. I go over things, but nothing ever really...sticks out to me. I’m not, erm...hugely good at reading between the lines sometimes. I’m good at knowing things, not inventing things to know.”

“It’s not so much that, but...okay, let’s try this. You have this door, right? The one that was broken down.”

Kazuichi props himself up on his elbows, rolling himself to one side to watch Nagito whilst he explains. He’s never quite come to understand the kind of guy Nagito really is, and he’d certainly not been expecting him to appear as some beacon of aid in these trying times, but he’s pleasantly surprised. If this keeps up though, the balance of Nagito’s godlike karma will have to realign itself, and Kazuichi isn’t looking forward to it in the slightest.

“So, it got from one place to another,” Nagito explains, gesticulating and acting out the part of the door before and after the incident. “If we break it down into smaller steps, you can answer the little questions one at a time instead of answering the big ones all in one go.”

“Alright,” Kazuichi replies hesitantly. “I guess that makes sense.”

“So, I’d say the first mystery is how the door came to be, uh...unhinged. You say it was broken down. If we start simple, from which direction would it have been forced open?”

Kazuichi thinks on it for a moment, pondering its relevance, before replying, “Well, I’d think from the outside, right? Since there was nothing on the inside that could’ve done that.”

“That’s a start. Was there any evidence on the inside of the cottage of the door being broken down that way? If it was by force, it’d be likely you’d find a screw or a hinge or something like that.”

“I...didn’t actually check that,” Kazuichi admits sheepishly. “Though we found the screw that I stepped on outside, right where Hiyoko claimed she’d found the door.”

Nagito simply shrugs, and tells him, “Well, there’s a start to your investigation. If there’s a possibility, you can’t rule it out so quickly. Since that’s inconclusive, I’d reckon the next step is figuring out how the door travelled. What could move a door from the front of the cottage to out on the walkway?”

“Uh...um, well, maybe—”

“Here, try and isolate the incident. Don’t think about anything else that’s going on around it. A door just moved. How many ways can it move?”

“Erm, I guess it can’t be moved by an animal, it’s either too heavy or too tricky. It’s not been windy enough for the weather to move it…”

“Or, we’d have seen much more than doors blowing about the place,” Nagito grins.

“Exactly, so...I mean, my first idea would be that a person moved it.” Kazuichi pauses, scratching his cheek, before uncertainly adding, “And, I’d thought about that before, but if you’re going to move a door, why move it such a short distance? Or, why move it at all?”

“And, that’s how we get to the next question! Why move it, and why move it there in particular?”

Kazuichi grumbles, rubbing the heels of his hands roughly over his eyes, causing blurs to pass over his vision. He hates the idea of being babied through this whole exchange, and the frustration builds with this baffling question in particular.

“I have no idea! I can’t think of a single reason! Not one that makes sense, anyway!”

“Maybe that’s your answer.”

“Huh?”

Nagito looks over at him with a soft, sunny smile, and with a charismatic tilt of his head and a pair of eyes full of knowing, he says, “Sometimes there isn’t a reason for things happening, and that in itself can be the reason. If you can’t figure out why it was moved to that point, maybe it wasn’t meant to be moved there. Then, from there, you can extrapolate that perhaps the door was suddenly abandoned! I mean, you really gotta take a fine-toothed comb to these things, but it does help. Not just with investigating mysteries, but...other things as well.”

At this, Kazuichi perks up, and with a curious glint to his eye, he repeats, “Other things…?”

“I can’t-- I mean, I can’t profess to be, uh...all-knowing or anything, but I think it can help figure out things about yourself and the people around you. The world moves pretty fast, y’know? Sometimes it’s better to take things slowly.”

“Even if it totally sucks?”

“Especially if it totally sucks.”

“Even if it feels like it’s completely killing you?”

Nagito raises a brow. “Is something wrong, Kazuichi?”

The speed at which Kazuichi’s neck snaps around to keep himself from catching any further glimpse of Nagito’s face is startling. As he moves, his escape only spanning a foot, he blurts out a sudden ‘no’, and they both know his answer is far too quick to be true. Nagito doesn’t make any effort to press further on the subject, much too aware of Kazuichi’s responsibility for his own problems.

Sensing the end of their conversation, Nagito lifts himself up off the sand, brushing away the grains from the back of his trousers, though it’s a bit futile considering the state of the rest of him. He takes a few paces past Kazuichi, who is opting to remain for a little longer.

“Try and go back over it again. People say if you focus too much on the little things, you’ll miss the bigger picture, but sometimes the bigger picture is made up of details well worth looking at. In the end, even if you can’t solve the problem, you might’ve at least learned something.”

Chapter Text

After two minutes of hesitance, shyly creeping up to the cottage front and attempting to look resolute in his intentions, Kazuichi knocks faintly on the door-frame and holds his breath. The day has been long, and it’s only going to get longer, but Nagito’s unusual advice has offered something of a distraction. He can’t bear to start thinking about the details of anything he thinks is worth knowing about, and the mystery at hand is a convenient detour to take.

With a deeply held breath, he figures that nobody is in. It’s no problem to him if his efforts are suspended, he can simply wait for another day to carry on with his deeply unimportant business. If anything, the longer it takes, the better that is for him. More time spent wondering, less time spent knowing. It’s manufactured ignorance, which is far more damning than natural ignorance, but it works all the same.

As he begins to leave, the awkwardly-fitted door shudders open, and Kazuichi’s heart jumps into his mouth at the sight of Gundham standing in the doorway. His expression is like steel, and the immediate tapping of his fingers against his thighs indicates impatience.

“Ah,” Kazuichi stammers, fumbling into an awkward, banshee-like laugh. “I thought...I thought you wouldn’t be in.”

Gundham’s eyes flicker downwards briefly, surveying the mortal standing at his door. Kazuichi is well aware that his statement is stretching it a bit in terms of truth, but as always, it’s hard to tell just how far Gundham can see through him.

“If you believed that, then what spurred you to try?”

He’s hit a conversational dead end in record time. He can’t will himself to turn and leave, not after being seen, so he’s forced to waft away the idiotic pleasantries with a wave of his hand. Trying to inject his posture with confidence, it falls flat when he can’t take his eyes away from the ground.

“I, uh...ahem, I was just-- I wanted to...check something. In your cottage, that is.”

It’s not abject disbelief, but there’s a scrunch to Gundham’s expression which screams dissatisfaction. If Kazuichi were feeling facetious, he’d probably try agreeing with him.

“Is that so?” Gundham folds his arms, shifting his weight to lean comfortably against the door-frame. “I can’t imagine why you’d have any business in my abode. Haven’t you got an injury to take care of?”

Kazuichi tries not to look so obviously sullen, but it’s one hell of a task. They’d somehow grown so familiar the night before, and in the light of day, and by his own stupid hand, things have gone right back to how they were before. What elicits even more discomfort is the mention of his foot, which has long since begun to sting with insistence. Gundham was the one taking care of it not so long ago, and Kazuichi wishes he could go back to that moment for...reasons.

As pathetic as it had made him feel, the search for kindness had granted him a few soft moments that he’s not keen to forget. It’s a curious weakness of his. Perhaps that’s why the cold eyes bearing down on him feel so hopeless yet so familiar. However, today, marred by inconsistent anxieties and a creeping dread targeting something he can’t quite figure out, all kindness feels void. The changing desires of the fickle teenager.

“I, uh, went to...Mikan,” Kazuichi lies, pausing to tuck a loose lock of hair behind his ear. “And, I just wanted to check something, to see if...a theory I have is correct. A-about your door, I mean. It won’t take long.”

Gundham raises his head, looking down on Kazuichi with fascinated eyes, and in any other circumstance, Kazuichi might feel quite bashful under such a gaze, but the dull amusement that tugs at his lips negate sincerity. He’s...mocking him.

“You’re foolish even for a mortal,” Gundham tells him sternly. “I can’t profess to know so much about your kind, but you are especially taxing. I wonder why it is you’re taking such an interest in my business after earlier. Whilst I don’t expect much civility from you, I’m surprised your obsession with the dark queen didn’t have you prostrating yourself in front of her, and after barking in her face, no less.”

Kazuichi bite backs a reaction, feeling the sting of his words overtake the pain in his foot. To be the subject of such low expectations is a familiar burden, one that’s been carried through the bulk of his life despite him having strived to be as capable as possible. All the things he’d realised were a useless pursuit were inevitably ditched, but if appearance and studies don’t raise expectations, what the hell does?

“That was…” Kazuichi trails, trying not to hide his face behind his hands. “That was a mistake, I-- I didn’t… I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t trying to—”

“And, you’re apologising to me, why?” Gundham gives him a flippant gesture, keen to indicate that the intended recipient of the apology is nowhere within earshot. “Though if you remain this weak-willed, I—”

“Weak-willed? Dude, shut up! Why is this-- I’m not… I’m trying to apologise! I know I was a jackass, okay? I fucking get it.”

Gundham cracks a humourless smirk. “Except you didn’t actually come to apologise, you came to ask for something else. It’s considered polite to open with the apology before trying to get what you want.”

“I don’t want anything! I’m trying to help you out!” Kazuichi snaps, his face growing red with frustration. With nowhere to put his hands, they flail in useless gestures, teeming with pent-up energy. “Look, I’ll apologise to...to Sonia as well.”

“It really doesn’t concern me what you choose to do,” Gundham replies thickly. “I also don’t need your help. You fixed the door. That’s all I needed. Why you choose to pursue my problems is beyond me, or do you think me as incapable as you think her?”

Kazuichi goes from red to pale, caught in accusations he knows are false. Sure, he’s a bit lenient on the princess, willing to let her skirt past any real responsibility, but that doesn’t mean he thinks she’s useless. If anything, she’s more competent than he is. She’d be much more help to Gundham in this predicament too, so why he’s still grasping at these straws, he doesn’t know. Somehow, it feels like he’s sunk more stakes into the outcome of this than Gundham has, if this is even an issue with stakes in the first place. Nagito’s face briefly flashes in his mind, prompting a moment of clarity- or, at least that’s what it tries to do.

He’d come to investigate. He’d...inadvertently come to apologise. If neither of those things are viable options any longer, what reason does he have to stay? Would this be for the same mystery reason that Kazuichi had felt so intense, so excited by the events of the night before? By the proximity, the care woven into their unfamiliar conversation? His decisions to seek out Gundham had been because he’d offered him something he needed. If Gundham were to stop bestowing that kindness, would he have any other reason to keep following him? The obvious answer is no, but the route Kazuichi is taking to get to that answer is far too long for that to really be the case. In part, because Gundham never actually stopped offering him that grace.

Under Gundham’s sharp, expectant eyes, something that Kazuichi had overlooked begins to surface. It had enraged him in a moment of vulnerability, and passed him by in favour of his own pursuit of catharsis. He can’t claim to be angered by being patronised when he, himself, had thought it somewhat comforting. Thinking on it now though, it wasn’t really condescension. It might’ve sounded like it, but it was never meant to be it.

As Gundham opens his mouth to dismiss him, fatigue pulling at the sharp lines etched into his forehead, Kazuichi cuts in.

“I-I’m-- I came to...thank you.”

He didn’t come here for that, but he thinks his reasons have changed. That should be allowed, right? Or, is every mistake he makes fated to follow him around for the rest of time? He clasps his hands together, feeling how clammy and cold they are, and when he momentarily rubs at his face, the tepid sweat clings to his flushed cheeks.

“I know that, erm...earlier-- you were just trying to help. It wasn’t, it wasn’t something I noticed, ‘cos...well, it didn’t really feel like it, but I know that’s what it was. I know you wouldn’t accept an apology from me either, but…”

Gundham is wordless, and the suspicion he’s so prone to is muted by the wave of surprise that washes over him. He’s left with a wild expression, and the sense that he hadn’t been expecting this as an outcome. It doesn’t satisfy him by any means, now with even less grasp on what he understands of the situation, but it prevents him from closing the door too soon. When Kazuichi fades into silence, there’s a rising tension in the space where Gundham is to give his answer.

“I don’t...need your thanks,” Gundham replies, albeit uncertainly, as if he’s unsure of whether or not that’s true. “You were correct, after all, you and I are truly nothing alike. You clearly believe that to be so, and I have no desire to assist with mortal endeavours. I am also well aware your only ambitions lie with the dark queen, which gives me even less inclination to help you, so for whatever reason you’re choosing to intrude on my business—”

“It’s not even-- it’s not about her!” Kazuichi argues, force in his voice but a bright glimmer of weakness in his eyes. “That’s something else I should probably…say.” He can feel the burning in his chest beginning to fade into a brittle chill, and it’s almost intoxicating. Gundham’s poor idea of his person is far more devastating than he’d ever imagined it could be, but it’s all fading into one big blur now. It all feels the same.

“I...wanted to tell you,” Kazuichi mumbles, his tone somehow lacking reluctance. “You can...you two-- you’d be a good match for her. Not me. I guess I was just jealous, but you’re not...you’re not a bad guy, okay? So, you can...have her.”

He’d been hoping that his words, the amiability of his voice, might settle the conversation, and perhaps his own racing heart rate too, but watching the way Gundham’s face morphs into indignation makes it feel like he’s just thrown petrol onto the fire.

“That’s...well, that’s gracious of you,” Gundham spits, hoisting his elbow up to rest against the door-frame, where he can lean out to glare at Kazuichi. “So, what happens to her is up to you, is it? You’re telling me I can have her, as if…she’s somehow a thing I can—”

“I didn’t mean it like that! Don’t be fucking obtuse, you know I didn’t mean it like that!” Kazuichi hisses, balling up his fists. “I mean, you two could be-- I dunno, whatever you want to be! I’m saying you’d be good for her, it’s a compliment! She’d be good for you too! Y’know, she...cares about you.”

“And, I take even less kindly to you deciding what’s good for me, as if you’ve ever had any sort of idea! At what point did you think any of this is your business? Or, do you enjoy meddling with other people’s lives this much?”

Splitting into a disbelieving grin, “Oh, you’re gonna try and spin it like that? You’re gonna try being dense, when you clearly-- you fucking know what I mean! Or, maybe I should...rescind that. I mean, she’s a mortal, isn’t she? You’re a fucking-- what is it, an overlord? You even said yourself you don’t wanna get tangled up with ‘mortal endeavours’. So, fine, I take it back. She might understand you, but what’s the chance you understand her?”

As if lighting a fuse measured in millimetres, Kazuichi gets the air knocked out of his lungs when Gundham suddenly lunges forwards and grabs him by the front of his jumpsuit, pulling upwards with such force that Kazuichi feels the tips of his toes scraping against the floor. Seeing his ire from a distance is one experience, but the feeling of his breath on his face and the fire in his eyes is a blow that Kazuichi can’t recover from. Not when it feels so sickeningly familiar, the face of Gundham momentarily flashing in the image of someone else.

“Are you done throwing this stupid, fucking tantrum?! Telling me what I don’t understand, as if you have any idea the kind of petulant, shameless idiot you are? I clearly misspoke earlier, likening the two of us to each other, when we are so very different- I, for one, can tell exactly when my presence is not wanted! Maybe if you spent less time interfering with other people and more time figuring that out for yourself, you might make yourself a fraction more likeable to the princess you’re so consumed by!”

The time it takes between the end of Gundham’s sentence and the release of Kazuichi’s collar is hard to gauge, feeling so very long, yet it couldn’t be more than a few seconds. When the bodily heat of their proximity dies away, the comfortable, tropical atmosphere feels deathly cold. Kazuichi doesn’t realise he’s wrapping his arms around himself, nor does he realise anything else for that matter. The only warmth to be felt is leftover from the words still ringing in the air.

When Gundham steps back to catch his breath, a harsh exhale forcing its way through gritted teeth, his eyes linger over Kazuichi. Nothing happens. Nothing is happening. He can’t say he expected an explosion, he can’t say he expected anything at all, but his breath imperceptibly hitches when the dullness of Kazuichi’s eyes, set into a pale white face, seems to be staring not at him, but through him.

Before Gundham can open his mouth, still caught in the decisions of what to say or whether or say nothing at all, Kazuichi makes one discernable movement in the form of his hand bolting to his face. As a breath of cold air fills his lungs, his body shudders, and he suddenly vomits through his fingers. By the time the splatters hit the decking, he’s already pulling himself back to his cottage on trembling feet, leaving behind him an unfortunate trail, an air of hollowness, and an unsettled Gundham.

What happens within Kazuichi’s cottage for the following couple of hours is something better left unexplained. The sky changes colour with time, the clock ticking at an unbearably slow pace, and though it feels like he’s perpetually waiting for something, there’s nothing to wait for. He expects nothing, he hopes for nothing, and all that can be mustered is a vacant stare into the middle distance, his brain far too jumbled to hold any thought. Through intense, abject mortification, the only thing to have any coherency is the brief apology he owes to Sonia for being so rude. It’s the kind of endeavour he’d normally dread, drudging up the courage to set his pride aside, but in the face of what feels like a sea of grey with no waves, it seems impeccably easy. She’ll likely forget about it minutes after it happens, and it’ll be no harm done.

He’s trying not to think so hard about it, especially not about her. It’s not an unpleasant intrusion, the vivid memory of her gorgeous face, but he knows there’s far more pressing things to attend to. He just doesn’t know where to start. Nagito’s advice might’ve been all well and good, but is it any use if he can’t find a beginning? His stomach churns every so often, and he’s forced to lie still in his bed, hoping to fall asleep.

Whether it’s a blessing or a curse, and he really doesn’t know which it is, the world has designated his guardian angel, bestowed upon him in this dark hour, to be...Ibuki.

It’s like she can sense sadness, and he’s far more concerned by her timing than the way she materialises in his bedroom, shutting behind her a door he didn’t even know was open. He knows he locked that door, but then again, there was a reason he suspected her so strongly at the beginning of his little investigation. He can’t figure out how her proclivity for breaking and entering ties into music, or perhaps it’s just a hobby.

She looks down at where he’s lying on the bed, curled up under a blanket, still fully dressed, hair askew and eyes deeply melancholic. Her eyes are so bright, it’s like they’re shining through the dimly lit room like a torch. He has no energy to sigh, but in his mind, he’s doing it in anticipation for her boundless energy.

Then, without a word, she turns and leaves.

He’s not sure whether to cry or not. It’s a little isolating, hurtful to have someone take one look at you before disappearing, but he truly has no excess emotion to spare. More than anything, he’s just confused, and what comforts him is the lack of knowledge of what goes on in Ibuki’s strange little mind. He lets the thought sit, because it’s an easy enough thing to ponder when he’s willing himself not to care, but just as quickly as she’d left, she returns. With her is something large held in her arms, and she sweeps it out over where Kazuichi is lying on the bed.

“...Ibuki, I don’t...need another blanket.”

Ibuki kneels down beside the bed, shuffling over so her arms rest folded over the edge of the mattress, and her eyes settle upon him. For a while, she says nothing. She inspects his face closely, but not with the kind of intensity that Kazuichi is used to. She’s not looking at him like she’s searching for something, she’s looking at him like she’s simply...observing.

Eventually, she reaches out to tuck part of the blanket up beside Kazuichi’s face. Even though it’s not direct, he can still feel how gentle her movements are, and he tries not to well up. He wants to bat her away, to insist that he has no business being cared for so graciously, but he’s selfish, and he knows that this is something he really, truly wants. So, for now, he’ll allow it, but only for a little while.

“Ibuki…”

He tries to bite back the anguish, but his voice crackles too earnestly, fading into a whisper. He says her name because he can’t say anything else. He can’t say he gives up. He can’t say he fucked up. He can’t say he doesn’t know what to do. All of this may be true, but it can’t be said. He thinks he’ll only be feeling sorry for himself if he does.

“Kazuichi looks so sad,” Ibuki hums quietly, the smile never fading from her face. “Ibuki’s come to cheer you up.”

With a broken, half-hearted attempt at a laugh, Kazuichi simply replies, “I’m pretty sure I locked that door.”

Tapping her hands rhythmically against the mattress, a soothing beat that Kazuichi can feel rippling under his back, Ibuki grins, “Locked doors are no problem for me!”

“Saying that kind of thing will get you put in jail,” Kazuichi sighs, a tickle of humour to his voice. He pulls the blanket up under his nose, curling up onto his side to face her properly. “I don’t know how you figured I needed a visitor, Ibuki. How’d you even know I was here…?”

“Ibuki followed a trail of barf right to your door!” she declares, loud enough for her voice to ring throughout the silent room. “Are you sick? I can’t carry you to the hospital, but I can totally carry Mikan to you!”

Kazuichi waves a hand dismissively, but under the covers it just looks like a momentary fidget. With a weak sigh, he tells her, “I’m not sick. I’m just…” He pauses, feeling defeat wash over him, and a glimpse in his mind of Gundham’s face glaring at him. He quietly finishes, “...I’m just sulking.”

Ibuki tilts her head so she’s resting on her side, battling playfully at the hem of Kazuichi’s blankets. Without a hint of judgement or mockery in her voice, she asks, “Aw, did Sonia turn you down? Don’t worry, there’s plenty of princesses in the sea! Oh, hey! That actually sounds like a pretty good song title.”

Hearing that question, it occurs to Kazuichi that Sonia really isn’t the part of the problem that’s upsetting him. His unrequited infatuation with her is vastly overshadowed, and though he’s still hazy on the details, he gets a wave of relief, of certainty, in knowing that much. Somehow, the broad truth is far more ridiculous. He can’t help but scoff.

“Um...actually, I think...I think it was Gundham,” he admits, misery bleeding from his tone. He’s not sure how to carry on explaining, and for a second, he remembers all the times Ibuki had alluded to something mischievous between the two of them. He expects her to pounce on that fact, if only to inject the conversation with a bit of light banter, but she doesn’t. Her face remains placid. Calm.

“Did your investigation not pan out? Is...is that what the barf was about…?”

Kazuichi groans, burying his face into the blankets and coiling himself into the fetal position. Just thinking about it makes his stomach hurt. His head, too, aches from the tension and the thirty solid minutes he spent crying in the bathroom. Unsure of what to say, he says nothing, but Ibuki seems keen to whip out her newfound patience. Since when was that a thing?

Forced to reply, Kazuichi mumbles, “We sort of...got into a fight. I...Ibuki, I fucked up. I don’t know what happened-- I don’t know what the hell I said, or...or why it all went so…”

Ibuki seems preoccupied, watching the way her nails glide over the bed-covers to create a pleasing, scratchy sound, but truthfully, she’s listening very intently. As Kazuichi trails into incomprehensible babbling and the bubbling of tears, she plainly asks, “What were you fighting about?”

Uncertainly, “I...I guess it was about Sonia-- but not in that way! I was...I was just trying to tell him I gave up on her, so they could...y’know. I wanted to tell him I...I wasn’t going to get in his way. Their way.”

“Why’d you need to tell him that?”

A horrible question, but one Kazuichi knows has got to be answered at some point. He can claim he doesn’t know, or that he was doing him a favour, but neither of those things are true. He thinks maybe if he assumes the worst of himself, every answer will turn out to be right. That would explain why everyone else seems to know him better than he does. If everyone else’s expectations are low, is his own self-image horribly overblown?

He buries himself further into the blankets, and the muffled voice hiding from within whimpers, “I...I think I’m just selfish. I wanted to...just...I don’t want it to fade away into nothing. I-it hurts! It hurts a lot, and I don’t know if I can just-- if I can just stay quiet and let it pass by on my own. Even if I know that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Ibuki sits back, eyes gleaming, and with a cat-like smile, she says brightly, “Oh, so you wanted to, like, do a big finale on your feelings, right? Your last hurrah! If you’re givin’ it up for good, sometimes you gotta...say it out loud.”

Kazuichi blinks, unconvinced. “I’m...I don’t think—”

“Were you gonna tell that to Sonia?”

“N-no! I...I don’t think I could do that. I mean, it would just be weird, right? I just-- I know Gundham and Sonia have this thing going on, so I wanted to tell him, so...so he’d...not...take that for granted.”

He doesn’t believe himself when he says it. It could be true, but it can’t possibly be his entire reasoning. Maybe he had been selfish in deciding what was good for those two. It’s not like he wants to see them together, but...well, what does he want? He sure as hell doesn’t know.

“So, you want them to be happy together?”

“I want to not get in their way,” Kazuichi replies, more truthfully than he’d realise. Even if he’s not convinced by his reasoning, Ibuki can hear the sincerity right through his words- a fairer judge on him than he is on himself. He’s being oddly honest, not particularly selectively, but definitely...inconsistently.

“Kazuichi, it’s...not so bad to be selfish sometimes. It’s not like you’re out to hurt them, that would totally suck! Even if you did mess it up, it’s, like, over now, yeah? Don’t regret letting your feelings go out with a bang! I’ll bet Gundham will forget about it in no time, and Sonia doesn’t even have to know! Then, when you’re like totally over it, you can be like congratulations! Happy for you! Yay! Also, sorry about that weird thing that happened! And, there. It’s all over.”

She makes it sound so delightfully easy, and Kazuichi feels an immense surge of jealousy for the carefree Ibuki, not just because she makes it sound simple, but because she makes it sound reasonable. It’s a common sense approach. It’s doable. It takes so little action, even if it does take a whole lot of swallowing his feelings down. Still, as good as that is, it’s still not the problem. There’s something else.

“That’s...that’s good. Y-you make it sound real simple, Ibuki,” Kazuichi smiles half-heartedly, though really quite appreciative for the suggestion. “I don’t think that’s gonna...I mean, it’s not what-- it’s not all we fought about. I think…ugh, I don’t know! I don’t know why I’m so torn up. I mean, it’s just...it’s just Gundham. Why the hell should I give a shit?”

“Why do you give a shit?”

Kazuichi blinks. For a second, it sounds like she’s making fun of him, but her eyes are deadly serious. Tentative in his reply, worried he might be falling into a trap, he hums, “Huh? What...what d’you mean?”

Ibuki throws her hands out expectantly, her expression provoking him into carrying on. When he doesn’t, she repeats, “Why do you give a shit? You do, right? That’s why you’re upset.”

“Is that why I’m upset?”

She flops back onto the floor with a groan, stretching her limbs out. “Oh, Kazuichi, you’re a handful! I mean, okay, from where I see it...you two fought about Sonia. You were trying to be nice in your own way, and Gundham got real mad. So, you’re...upset that he got mad, right? If he was all chill and cool about you being, like, hey, I give up on the hot girl, she’s all yours, you wouldn’t be like this, yeah?”

Kazuichi swallows. He peers out from behind the blankets, but Ibuki, lying on the floor, is impossible to see from where he’s positioned. Ignoring the sting in his foot, one that seems to be growing over the past few hours, he mutters, “I...I guess? I don’t...I don’t wanna make anyone mad. I mean, it’s not like I care that much, but…”

“You upset him, and that upset you! Like a little row of dominoes,” Ibuki chirps, perhaps a little more cheerfully than is appropriate. She sits up suddenly, her wild hair sticking up in all directions and covered in a little bit of floor lint. “You’re sad ‘cos he’s sad!”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but there’s some truth to that. After all the novelty and excitement of yesterday night, far away as that somehow seems now, it’s like it never happened. He’d made progress with Gundham, progress that won’t easily be restored. Is the wasted effort grating on him? Did he try too hard? He wonders why he would even want to be on such good terms with a guy who’s receiving the affections of the girl he likes, and yet...it’s becoming harder and harder to lie about it.

Their time was nice. It was interesting. It was new. Gundham had approached him in a way nobody else had, extending a very careful, stoic hand. He’d...wanted that, hadn’t he? It didn’t matter if it was from Gundham, the rivalry between them destined to be water under the bridge is a good thing. Except now, their relationship is nothing at all. The hostility burns even greater than before, Kazuichi fears, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispers into the blankets. “We...we actually tried to be nice to each other. Even though I was an asshole, he tried to cover for me, and I...threw it right back in his face. He’s never gonna want to do that for me again.”

The silence of the room doesn’t feel so heavy, so deafening, and Ibuki’s soft words meld into it like the tangling melody of a song. With his eyes shut, he can feel the weight of the mattress shift as she comes to lean next to him.

“So, that’s what you’re sad about. You just want to be close to him, don’t you?”

Kazuichi sniffles, suddenly sitting upright. As he wipes a hand over his face, a thick, dull ache suddenly shoots through his skull, and he winces, doubling over to rest his head in his hands. He’s tired of his eyes feeling so sticky and wet, and the pain in his jaw exacerbated by holding back tears.

“W-why would I want that?”

Ibuki rests her chin on her hands, beaming up at him with rosy-red cheeks. Her smile is devious but somewhat polite, as she tells him, “I can’t answer that for you, but I think I know what we can do! You wanna get back on good terms with him, right?”

It’s such a simple question, but Kazuichi still feels a lump in his throat when he’s forced to pick an answer. With a barely audible croak, he replies, “...yeah.”

Ibuki suddenly rockets to her feet, holding her arms aloft as if she’s claimed victory over the circumstances. It’s more energy than Kazuichi can bear to witness, and if she’s expecting him to keep up alongside her plan with this kind of attitude, he’s got no chance. He’s eager to refuse before she’s even told him the idea.

“You and me, both teamed up together all detective-style, we can totally solve his little mystery! If we figure out what happened to his missing front door, we can be, like, hey! G-man! We did it, we did a thing for you ‘cos we, like, care about you! And, we’re friends! And, then you can apologise, and that’ll be like...touching, or something.”

Kazuichi’s mouth falls open. His immediate reaction is interest, much to his own dismay. Surely, this investigation has brought about more misery than it’s worth. Then again, it’s equally responsible for some of the fascinating interactions between him and Gundham. As if sensing his thought pattern, Ibuki leans in with a knowing grin.

“You were really into that whole investigating thing, right? Even though it wasn’t really your business, you still cared about it, didn’t you?”

It’s not something he’s dared to consider. At first, he was strung along by the curiosity of such a bizarre occurrence. Then, it had morphed into the need to see a job through to its completion. Following on from that, it had somehow turned into the desire to follow Gundham around, and...what? Bask in his mercy? Beg for attention? Forget about Sonia? The only thing he can pinpoint with any confidence is that he’d simply wanted to talk to him more.

Regardless of the details, Ibuki is right. Nothing would carry him this far through such an ordeal. To stick around for this long, putting any amount of personal feeling into the task, would ultimately mean that he cares. To what degree, he’s staunch on not finding out. If the truth happens to fall into his lap somehow, then so be it.

Pulling the covers over, Kazuichi shyly mumbles, “Maybe. I...guess I did. B-but you’re suggesting we go and try and solve this on our own? No offence, but...I think we’re gonna suck at that.”

“Shouldn’t stop us from trying! C’mon, let’s give it a go! What have you got to lose?”

Apt words. Things could certainly get worse, but there isn’t much else he can actually lose now. He’s already lost out on his first real love, not to mention all the dignity and pride that went alongside it. He may not know why he cares so much, or what drives him to rekindle the barest flame of a relationship with a guy he’s still figuring out, but he knows that the situation as it stands now is painful. He’s hooked some part of himself to the juvenile plot of solving a mystery, and even if the mystery amounts to nothing itself, he thinks he might find an answer at the end of it.

Chapter Text

Kazuichi doesn’t come out for dinner, nor does he emerge from his cottage for any other reason until the dawn of the following day. Ibuki’s words had been a valiant attempt to inject the situation with a little more confidence, a little more hope, and though it has technically worked, his mood remains melancholic. After a night of fitful sleep, Kazuichi, in all his fatigued glory, is dragged back out into the world to help put things right.

The sun overhead mocks his gloom, casting a bright ray upon Ibuki’s eager, shimmying form. She’s working up her own sweat dancing to a tune she’s humming under her breath, loitering conspicuously in front of Kazuichi’s cottage as he’s locking the door behind him. The contrast between the two could not be more stark. Between Ibuki’s energetic bouncing, and Kazuichi’s pale, inexpressive face, they look like some kind of comedy character duo performing a crappy manzai.

“Okay, Mr Detective!” Ibuki beams, striking her most ready-to-go pose, and shoving an obnoxious peace sign under Kazuichi’s nose. “I get to be your kick-ass sidekick today! We’re gonna walk around and look at clues, we’re gonna think super-duper hard, and then we’re gonna solve this mystery! Let’s go!”

Kazuichi immediately deflates, his arms dropping limply to his sides as he slumps forward. It’s hard to find the words to combat Ibuki’s passion, and after some tripping, he manages to churn out, “I...I mean, I guess, but how do you suppose we do that? It’s not exactly that easy.”

This doesn’t seem like much of a problem for Ibuki, cemented by the fact she’s obviously not going to be the one doing all the legwork. She flaps her hand with a dismissive but confident smile, suggesting, “You’re the one who knows all about it, not me! Where do you think we should start, sir?”

Any obedience from her is slightly mortifying, and being shoved into the position of responsibility whilst still nursing a weakened mind is hauling an awful lot of pressure onto Kazuichi’s shoulders. His tangential thoughts stuttering, he tries to think back to the events of yesterday and where the investigation had left him. Nagito had offered him some pretty sound advice, and he’d had some plan of action when he’d gone to Gundham’s cottage in the first place, but there’s little chance of that working out now.

With a heavy sigh, Kazuichi begins to murmur, “It’s...difficult. I mean, it’s all, like, speculation at this point, yeah? Looking around Gundham’s cottage is a no-go. There’s nothing around here we can see that’s out of the ordinary. All we know is that the door got knocked in, and then dragged out here. I really don’t get-- like, who in their right mind would be doing that in the middle of the night?”

“And, it’s definitely not Nekomaru?”

That’s a phrase he’s starting to hear quite frequently, and for a second, he seriously considers it. It lasts about a second, and he wafts away the idea, explaining, “Honestly, it seems unlikely. Nekomaru would totally own up to it, and to be honest, if he was gonna kick a door down, he’d probably take the whole house with it. We’d be seeing way more damage.”

“Ooh, gotcha!” Ibuki nods fervently, pretending to write something down on the palm of her hand. “So, we can cross Nekomaru off the suspect list! Seems...unlikely…”

“And, you’re absolutely sure you didn’t do it?”

The musician raises an earnest hand and declares, “I didn’t do it! Ibuki is innocent! Though, wouldn’t it be funny if I did?”

“Not even slightly. Alright then, erm...who else? I think I’ve ticked everyone off the list at some point or another.” Kazuichi begins to scratch at his cheek, rubbing away a speck of dust intruding on the corner of his eye. “I guess I must be missing something.”

“It’s a lotta mysteries, boss! Breaking down a door ain’t easy if you’re not a huge, billion-tonne hunk of ham with, like, surfboards for hands! You’d have to,” she pauses to mime the action of bashing her shoulder against something, “really use your whole body weight, right? Like in those cop shows!”

Not a horrible assessment from such a wild imagination. It’s a plausible idea; if he really tried to throw his entire body weight and didn’t hold back out of interest of keeping his bones intact, he might just manage it. With that thought in mind, a reasonable conclusion is that whoever is responsible didn’t seem to mind the risk of causing themselves injury. A new train of thought is refreshing, but the unfolding of further mysteries is exacerbating his stress. This is stupid. What the hell is he even doing here?

Diligent in keeping Ibuki up to date on his thought process, he mutters, “It’s doable. You’d probably do yourself an injury though, so it seems like whoever did it didn’t give much of a shit about that drawback. Man, I wonder what they were after…”

Ibuki just shrugs. “Maybe it was an accident or something? Maybe they just...fell!”

This is met with a tentative squint from Kazuichi, who flatly replies, “I don’t think falling accidentally could have that kind of impact. I mean, if you fall over, you’d put your arms out to stop yourself, right? That alone would negate the force put behind you.”

“Unless you were Nekomaru,” Ibuki replies seriously, then giggling, “or Byakuya! Hey, maybe—”

“Nah, Byakuya has some serious physical capability. I don’t think fallin’ over is, like, an option for him. Plus, he’d probably have that door fixed before anyone even noticed anything was up. The dude has pride, he wouldn’t let a mistake like that go.”

“He is pretty sweet, isn’t he?”

Sweet he might be, but he’s not helping the investigation. Kazuichi’s expression screws up in thought, the flexing of his fingers a desperate attempt to work off some nervous energy. He swears he can feel something drifting past him, a point he’s clearly missing, but just what the hell is it? If only he was in a better mindset, his brain might actually do some work for him.

Watching his frankly deranged attempt at thinking, his posture and face radiating a deeply unsettling energy, Ibuki gives him a hearty pat on the back and cheers, “C’mon, Kazuichi, think! You can do it!”

Tuning her out is one hell of a fucking challenge, but Kazuichi just about manages it in favour of honing in on a mysterious element that’s really beginning to bug him. It’s safe to say that one average person could break down a cottage door with some serious force. That’s likely enough to assume, and the only animals on this island big enough to manage a feat like that are safely fenced within the corral. That’s step one. An easy deduction.

However, the part of his brain that breaks down all the scientific aspects, loose as they seem to be in this case, is really gearing up for something. To knock through something so solid, you’d really have to want what’s on the other side. There’s no half-arsing it, but it doesn’t seem like anything is really amiss on Gundham’s side of things. Nothing is missing. The hamsters appear to be fine and undisturbed. Doing your shoulder in for the sake of what could just be bestowing an inconvenience on somebody else seems way too far-fetched.

On top of that, Ibuki’s idea isn’t a stupid one when he actually considers it. If a person were to fall, naturally, they would splay out to minimise the damage and catch themselves, but if someone were to fall and not be able to stop themselves, that would definitely pack enough of a punch to cave in something solid. If it were truly such an accident, then there’s likely no real motive for such a bizarre happening, or not a relevant one anyway. As for why anyone’s waltzing around so carelessly after dark, that’s still up in the air.

A new line of thinking only serves to open a fresh can of worms. What a pain in the ass.

“So, what if I do it like this?”

“No, that’s-- Ibuki, that’s way too forced. I don’t think you could catch your foot like—”

“No, but if you were, like, I dunno...jumping!”

“Who the hell would be jumping around here in the middle of the night?!”

Ibuki throws her hands out with remarkably less frustration than Kazuichi would’ve expected, considering they’ve been at this for almost half an hour now. He’s sitting perched on one of the wooden railings lining the decking, watching Ibuki devise a million and one ways to trip over in a manner that seems plausible enough to fit their situation.

“What if they were tangled up in something? Like a cable, or a vine, or some headphones—”

“I’ve never fumbled that badly over a pair of headphones, and, again, in the middle of the night? If we’re going down the route that someone fell on accident, why the hell would they be dragging vines or a cable about the place? Doesn’t that mean they’re already up to something suspicious?”

Ibuki takes a heavy breath, leaning back comfortably against the railing and sticking her legs out obstructively across the doorway of Gundham’s cottage. It’s lucky that he’s not in right now, or he’d have much more to say about the ruckus they’re creating on his doorstep. How Ibuki’s supremely exaggerated falls haven’t gone overheard by anyone else on the island is a mystery.

“Well, maybe they just tripped over their own feet! That’s possible, right?”

Kazuichi sighs, unconvinced. He folds his arms, gently thumbing at the fabric of his sleeves as an aid to his thinking process. “I mean, anything’s possible, but is it plausible? Not to mention, it’s weird that anyone fell here at all.”

Ibuki tilts her head, her hair dangling over the frayed wood of the fencing catching splinters. “What d’you mean? The floor’s pretty flat around here! Though if you’re just trippin’ over thin air, as Ibuki does from time to time—”

“I’m not talking about that! Like, look at where we are.” Kazuichi pauses to gesture to the surrounding area. When Ibuki continues to stare at him blankly, threatening a dull shrug, he rolls his eyes and tells her, “Gundham’s cottage is right here on the end of the walkway. Who’s got any business walking over here in the dead of night? Even if we suspect it was an accidental fall, isn’t that weird?”

Ibuki brightens, rocketing upright with ferocity in her stance. “Unless, you’re in the cottage opposite! Da-da-da-daaa! So, it’s totally Teruteru! Teru-totally!”

Despite it being a fairly solid deduction, Kazuichi mulls it over with some uncertainty. His lacklustre response causes Ibuki to deflate dramatically, her expression marred with frustration as she proclaims, “Oh, c’mon! Doesn’t that make sense?”

“I-I’m not saying it doesn’t!” Kazuichi quickly defends, holding his hands up to pacify her. “I think it’s a bit quick to jump to conclusions, and if this was a girl’s room we were talking about, y’might sell me on that, but—”

“Okay, we both know Teruteru isn’t that picky.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s not my point. Proximity alone, I guess it paints him as a likely suspect, but...what’s the chance he’s gonna try and fuck with Gundham on purpose?”

“Kazuichi says that like it matters,” Ibuki teases, a flat grin lining the bottom half of her face. She then throws her arms into the air with a kind of celebratory joy that Kazuichi would consider to be far too premature. “And, this is perfect! You haven’t eaten since, like, yesterday, so that means it’s totally chow time! If we go to the kitchen now, we can get a bite to eat and some answers! We’re cookin’ two chickens with one stove!”

As if the very mention of food is the call to action, Kazuichi’s stomach begins to rumble miserably. His appetite completely tanked last night, and truth be told, he’s still not quite feeling up to forcing any food into his system, but Ibuki is right. It’s a decent opportunity, and remembering that Gundham had previously interrogated Teruteru on the whereabouts of his belongings, Kazuichi is curious to hear what transpired. The very least he can do for himself, fatigued as he is, is offer his body a little bit of sustenance. That way, at least he’ll have the energy to drag himself back to bed at the end of the day.

“Ibuki, and Kazuichi too! What brings you to my little slice of heaven~? Not like I see you two around together much, but I-- hey, wait a second! Kazuichi, I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning! I didn’t see you at dinner last night either, now that just won’t do! What gives?”

Alright, he’d been expected to be the one doing the interrogating, shining the torch into other people’s faces and whatnot, so Kazuichi reels back meekly the moment he’s subjected to Teruteru’s sudden accusation. They’ve not even exchanged a proper word yet, and Teruteru is on him like a dog on a bone. Though there’s that usual sly, perverse glimmer in his beady eyes, it’s stunning how quickly all else can be overshadowed by his passion for food, and subsequently feeding people. Kazuichi baulks. He knows he’s failed him.

“I, erm...I don’t—” Kazuichi stutters lamely, palming at the fabric over his thighs as he frantically attempts to dig up an excuse. “I got kinda...sick. I-it’s no big deal, really, I just wasn’t, erm...feeling...up...to…”

Ibuki nudges Kazuichi further into the kitchen, designating him the human shield, and props herself comfortably up against the door-frame. Teruteru runs a hand over his face in utter disbelief, as if physically pained by what he’s hearing. Though it’s only been a short while since breakfast, everything here has been cleaned down impeccably and made ready for lunch. Teruteru discards the knife he’d been using to dice onions, and musters a devastating amount of disappointment in his words.

“Well, that’s even more reason to let me know! Look, I know Mikan’s got that ditzy, hot nurse look down, and I get that, I do, but hospital food is still an insult to humanity! Ain’t no reason to not eat right when you’re sick, ya hear? Ahem, I-I mean...well, it is my job, isn’t it? Y’got a weak stomach? Say no more.”

There’s something about Teruteru’s odd lapse in patience that strikes Kazuichi as a little funny, but it drains when Teruteru begins to sift out handfuls of vegetables from the fridge. He’d never complain about being on the receiving end of his cooking in a million years, but his lingering sensitivity makes the kind gesture on Teruteru’s part feel completely undeserving. He wants to refuse, but his stomach rumbles louder than his words, and he’s spurred into silence.

Ibuki takes this as their moment to relax, and she saunters into the room, no doubt leaving a cat-like trail of dyed hair in her wake, and hoists herself up to sit on one of the freshly wiped-down counters. This is met with a harsh jab in her direction with the carrot Teruteru is holding.

“Hey,” he frowns. “You get down from there! I may be an ass guy, but I won’t be having your butt on my clean counters! Now, if you wanted to sit on my lap after I’m done, well, all you've gotta do is say so~!”

With a wide grin, Ibuki trills, “Absolutely not! I’ll just have what Kazuichi’s having.”

“Feh, Kazuichi is pretty tight when it comes to exploring new horizons,” Teruteru replies with a heinous smirk, suddenly snapping, “but-- hey, this is for him, not you! You had your breakfast already! Priority patients first. You can have what’s leftover.”

“Aww! Oh, but you’ll do Ibuki a favour, right?” Ibuki extends an arm to point at him like he’s got no choice in the matter, and Teruteru doesn’t look up from where he’s peeling the carrot, allowing the stark, orange peel to fall limply to the chopping board. The smile on his face lingers.

“Of course, I would, but a favour for a favour, you know? It’s only fair.”

“...okay, well you’ll do Kazuichi a favour, right?”

Neatly chopping the carrot, it’s thrown into a small pot of melted butter, and the delicious scent immediately begins to fill the air. It’s enough to make the hungry Kazuichi feel weak at the knees, and he finds refuge kneeling on the floor, sat up against the wall between the fire extinguisher and the dustbin. The burgeoning smell of food is sapping his ability to keep up with all the energy around him, and he can’t quite bring himself to make an effort towards the conversation.

Teruteru grabs a handful of the onion he’d been dicing earlier, no more than a third, and tosses it alongside the carrot. With a curious quirk of the lips, he finally looks up and murmurs, “Uh, I mean, I can. I don’t know exactly what it is you’d want from me, but...hey, I’m into just about anything!”

Ibuki begins to twiddle her fingers, fidgeting restlessly on the spot, but her explanation is bright and concise. “That’s cool! We’re looking for the party-crasher who caved in G-man’s door the other night! You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? Or, y’know, you wouldn’t have happened to have done it, right~?”

Teruteru suddenly pales, but even the sudden, haphazard slip of his knife isn’t enough to faze his hardened chef attitude. The stalk of celery stands no chance against his blade, but his chopping is somewhat erratic as he begins to hastily mumble, “Oh, that again? Look, I-I already had Gundham down here a few days ago asking me all sorts of questions. I’ve got nothing to do with it!”

Ibuki squints at him, and Kazuichi realises it’s very much the same squint that precedes some obscenely accurate judgement she has no business making. He’s not keen to encourage her bad habits, but if it’ll get him the answers he needs, he won’t stop her. Teruteru looks remarkably alarmed for a guy who claims to have no idea what’s going on. Maybe Ibuki’s talent as a musician will help make him sing like a canary.

“Aw, man, and here we thought we had something! Being all the way up top of that decking, it’s pretty weird for people to be passing by in the middle of the night! And, you do sleep opposite Gundham...”

It’s not subtle, but it’s not like it needs to be. Kazuichi habitually bites at his lip, watching the event play with some vindictive amusement.

“W-well, what’s it got to do with you?!” Teruteru’s indignance has the tension simmering, and he adds the celery to the pot of sizzling vegetables with a mighty huff. “It’s not like it’s your cottage! Gundham already asked me everything he wanted to know, and I...I answered! Truthfully! This ain’t a Scooby-Doo mystery! Y’all aren’t gonna get any more outta me! Kazuichi, you want short-grain or long-grain rice?”

Quietly, hiding a smile behind his knees, Kazuichi replies, “Short-grain.”

Ibuki lays a wide gaze upon Kazuichi. For a moment, he thinks she might be disapproving of his meal choices, as if that’s got anything to do with her, but she suddenly throws herself from the counter and onto her feet. The look in her eye can only be described as delightful but seriously deranged. Kazuichi has no time to ask her what’s rattling around that odd, little brain of hers before she’s bending down to Teruteru’s level to whisper hurriedly into his ear.

“Teruteru, you gotta help us! See, we’re doin’ this cos’...it’s like...yeah, and so...Kazuichi...”

With a disgruntled cry, Kazuichi whines, “Hey! Don’t talk about me in front of my face like that! Y’know whisperin’ is totally rude, right? Ibuki, what the hell are you telling him?” He palms himself up onto his feet, threatening to stalk over and break them apart, but the damage is already done. Ibuki looks like the cat who got the canary, an unorthodox way to make it sing, and the masochistic Teruteru looks more than happy to be caught in her jaws. Kazuichi despises the way his face morphs into wild intrigue, reminding him far too much of being whispered about in middle school, but Teruteru dismisses him with a flippant wave of the hand. His expression radiates a kind of understanding that Kazuichi fundamentally does not understand.

“Oh, I see! Well, if that’s how things are, it’s only right I help a brother out!” Teruteru finishes up seasoning his dish, placing a lid on top to let it cook gently. “Okay, well, I wasn’t kidding about what I said. I really don’t know anything, but there is something I sort of...ahem, neglected to tell Gundham.”

Despite Ibuki’s positive chirrup of, “Oh, now we’re cooking!” Kazuichi can’t quite shake the pervading sense of unease. Nevertheless, he allows Teruteru to continue, hoping that the information received is worth the mysteries Ibuki had been rabbiting into his ear. There’ll always be time to get his own back on her when all of this is done.

“I mean, can you blame me?” Teruteru chuckles nervously, a bead of sweat forming over his brow. “You should’ve seen the way Gundham came storming in here! I thought he was gonna chop me up and serve me for breakfast! I didn’t wanna tell him what I heard.”

“You heard something?” Kazuichi perks up, his eyes sparkling with hope. “Like what? A voice?”

“It’s nothing too damning, I’m afraid,” is the apologetic reply. “What I heard definitely must’ve been when the door came down. It was such a huge crash, but to be honest, I was a little afraid of going out to check. W-when you hear a noise like that coming from someone like Gundham, well, I don’t know about you, but I value my life! Though, I was a little curious about how he wouldn’t have heard something so loud. Nagito, too, come to think of it. Aren’t they next door to each other?”

Kazuichi stops just short of a sigh, politely informing him, “That dolt was wearing headphones and didn’t hear a thing.”

“Seriously? What, was he listening to death metal?”

“Beats the fuck outta me,” Kazuichi shrugs, running a hand over the overheated skin on the back of his neck. In a moment of clarity, peering through the discomfort of his unsatisfied appetite, thoughtfulness then crosses his features. “But, you make a good point. If you heard it, then Nagito definitely should’ve too. I don’t even wanna think about what that guy is getting up to at night.”

“Oh, man,” Teruteru starts with an amused grimace, setting aside a freshly-rinsed knife. He leans back to prop up his elbows on the counter, and he pulls a face like a pearl-clutching woman about to spill the most thrilling gossip. “Did you see that bruise he’s got on his side? It’s unbelievable. Meat that tender deserves a good spit-roasting in my book, but...ah, well, maybe he’s into that. Who knows?”

“I don’t, and I didn’t,” Kazuichi replies bluntly, flipping his braid between his fingers as the thought of Nagito and his misfortune begins to permeate. “Though, I think he did mention something like that. Seriously, stuff like that makes me afraid to be around the guy. One day, he’s gonna get us all killed, I just know it.”

With a laugh, “Yeah, that’s why I don’t let him into the kitchen. Too many sharps, not enough karmic defence. I’ll bet that guy could catch an STD without even getting into bed! It’s impressive, really.”

“No way, did we actually find a lead?! Wicked!” Ibuki plonks herself back into her seat on the counter-top, kicking her legs back and forth with earnest excitement. “After we get some food in you, let’s go and good-cop, bad-cop Nagito! I call being bad cop! I could totally rough that guy up a little.”

Not entirely incorrect, but deeply ill-advised, and Kazuichi isn’t looking to get caught up in any more circumstances out of his control. At best, he’ll allow Ibuki to be the mediocre cop, which he thinks she’ll do a stellar job at. For now, however, food beckons. When Teruteru lifts the lid of the pot to allow a thick stream of delicious steam to swirl out into the open, Kazuichi feels so relaxed by the warmth of it that he feels he might melt into a puddle. Misery be damned, he’s definitely hungry.

It must be showing far too evidently on his face, because with a small smile, Teruteru tells him, “One of the best things for a bad mood is good food. Can’t solve your problems on an empty stomach.” With that, he begins to ladle the rice and the vegetables into a bowl, creating an incredibly simple but mouth-watering dish. The food, peppered with bright colours and a golden brown char, glistens perfectly as it’s handed over to Kazuichi. It’s as if he’s made it out of pure gold, and for a nauseating second, the memory of Gundham suddenly bolts into his head. A thought of his unusual eating habits. Disgusting food plated up on his table, and the memory of a mother who tries her best, but can never quite get it right.

It does little to dull his appetite, but it does sober his mood. The first bite is a guilty one, especially with how delicious it is. All it’s comprised of is rice and vegetables, but even that’s too much of an ask for the Tanaka household. What an unpleasant intrusion on his meal. He can try to push that idiot out of his mind as much as he likes, but somehow, it always seems to circle back. That shouldn’t be much of a surprise. After all, his efforts here are for Gundham’s sake, whether he’ll appreciate them or not.

And, what’s he going to do if he doesn’t appreciate them?

His stomach roars in anticipation of much-needed food, and to drown out all outrage boiling within his body, spanning the length of top to bottom, Kazuichi shovels down the bowl far too quickly. The burning of the tip of his tongue is eye-watering, and he tries to hide his shameful expression behind his chopsticks because he can’t trust what he thinks he’s crying about is what he’s actually crying about.

Chapter Text

The investigation succeeding a tasty meal doesn’t quite pan out the way Kazuichi and Ibuki had been hoping. Leaving Teruteru with a smile and a nasty threat that if he happened to be lying about anything, he’d likely be battered and deep fried before the dawn of a new day, they’d jogged the length and width of the island in search of Nagito. He’s an elusive kind of guy as it is, the type Kazuichi suspects won’t be found if he doesn’t want to be, but they do find him.

In hospital.

Through his wild concern for an unlucky boy laid up in a hospital bed, Kazuichi would admit that the sum of his feelings amounts to ‘disappointed but not surprised’. It’s not like the guy is dead, but the thick roll of bandages wrapped around his arms and legs do suggest serious injury. Kazuichi just wishes the guy wouldn’t smile like such an airheaded dumbass about it, and the investigative pair enter his room with their insensitive wishes radiating from their stiff, shuffling figures.

“Oof,” Ibuki grits, trying to balance an appropriate expression on her face. With one hand, she begins to pat around her skirt as if looking for something. Yielding nothing, the same hand shoots up under her shirt and begins to rifle around, much to Kazuichi’s visible appal. Eventually, she pulls out a handful of coupons and single-digit coins, throwing them down onto the bed with an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, we didn’t, like, bring any fruit or anything. Erm, here’s some-- this is a coupon for a milkshake place! That’s just-- oh, that’s just a receipt, and...that’s a grocery store club-card. Actually, I think I’m gonna need that one back...”

Kazuichi tries not to watch the way she climbs over Nagito’s legs, wrapped comfortably under thin, flimsy hospital blankets, in order to get her belongings back. Staring pointedly at the wall above Nagito’s head, he mutters, “Man, you look rough. You okay?”

Nagito’s dreamlike smile doesn’t fade, and he replies, “I think I’ll be alright. You don’t look too good yourself, Kazuichi. Did something happen?”

A chill passes through the air between them, Kazuichi’s eyes growing dark and dull, and it’s all Nagito needs to know. If only to wave it off with a bit of flippancy, Kazuichi half-heartedly laughs, “Eh, it’s whatever, dude. Nothing that I, erm...can’t handle. Actually, I’ll be honest, we were lookin’ to talk to you about something that happened the other night, but…” He pauses to gesture indicatively at Nagito’s bruised and battered body.

Nagito chuckles, replying, “Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna be much help to you right now, but I can do my best. Just my luck, huh? The world’s seriously had it out for me the past few days.”

Kazuichi just sighs. “You and me both. Ibuki, stop messing with the blinds.”

Ibuki climbs down from the bed, and then plants her hands on the small counter that acts as Nagito’s bedside table. Her frown is demanding and fierce. “Haven’t you been getting’ beaten up all week? What happened this time? Falling coconut? Y’know, that happened to me as a kid!”

“Actually, a tree fell on top of me. Not a big one, mind you, but I was trapped there for a few hours. It’s a good thing Mikan found me when she did. I was starting to get a little thirsty…”

Before Kazuichi can react with any amount of shock, because getting stuck under a tree is a horrendously Nagito thing to happen, Nagito’s explanation heralds the arrival of the nurse in question. With a rumbling of poor balance, a noise from out in the corridor precedes Mikan falling through the door with all the grace of a dead swan. She manages to avoid flashing her underwear so openly this time, instead leading with a bunched-up collection of papers in her fists, and she nearly headbutts the floor on impact.

“O-ough! Ahah...s-sorry! I’m sorry! I d-didn’t realise you had visitors, Nagito!” Mikan squeaks, scrambling to her feet with the temperament of a timid mouse. “I-I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“It’s no problem,” Nagito counters placidly. “Did you finish filling out all your paperwork?”

Mikan holds up the crumpled papers, now sticking to her palms through the sheer stickiness of her clammy hands rather than any grip on her part. She attempts to flatten them out into something more neat and presentable, and Kazuichi can spy the smudges of her thick, scrawly handwriting making imprints onto her fingers.

He quirks a brow. “You have to fill paperwork here? What for? It’s not like this is a real hospital.”

Kindly, Mikan explains, “O-oh, well, it’s...i-it isn’t a legally functional medical e-establishment, but since students come here with their injuries, i-it’s school policy to record them! That, and I...I-I find it...good practice. It helps me, um...keep on top of everyone’s medical r-requirements.”

“Wow! That’s super diligent of you, Mikan!” Ibuki beams. Mikan shrinks back with some alarm, torn between tripping over a real compliment and fussing it away like its nothing. It winds up with her mumbling garbled nonsense under her breath as she straightens out her papers.

“I should really apologise for making so much work for you,” Nagito smiles sheepishly, running a hand through a matted clump of thin, white hair on the back of his head where the dirt from his accident has yet to be washed out. “Having to write out all of my misfortunes from the past few days. Seems like they’re really adding up, huh?”

“A-Agh! It’s no—no problem! No problem a-at all! I like doing it!” Mikan stammers defensively, now sifting through her notes with great anxiety. “I just...I just came in t-to go over some of these with you, s-so...so I can do the right follow-up care.”

“Man,” Kazuichi snorts. “This should be a laugh. What’s the scoop? He looks like he’s been hit by a train.”

“It’s like he’s been hit by a train, but with, like, another train piled on top!” Ibuki chirrups, “And both trains are on fire!”

“Oh boy, don’t...don’t speak that into existence,” Nagito mumbles, his smile weak and pleading. “That sounds like too much even for me.”

“A-ah, that’s...i-it’s nothing so horrible! B-but it is concerning...” Mikan wibbles, trying to wipe the stains of ink from her fingers onto the back of her dress. “Um. F-from all the injuries of...of the last few days, my list here-- it’s, um, well…I-I documented...seven major lacerations to the limbs and torso, t-two large abrasions to the back...about fifteen minor contusions, and one large haematoma along the left side to lower back. T-then there’s the hairline fracture to the left kneecap…the mild concussion, a-and...oh, the animal bite on your ankle.”

“Woah!” Ibuki’s mouth hangs open. “That’s crazy! Y’got hit by two trains on fire, and you got bit by an animal too? Was it a snake? Or, did one of the chickens at the corral peck ya~? Peck peck!”

“A-actually,” Mikan interjects, “I suspect it, erm...m-might’ve been a rodent or...or some such creature. Maybe a rat, or-- or a mouse. N-Nagito, to prevent pests from living in your cottage, y-you should be sure to clean it regularly! I-if you need any...any cleaning alcohol, we have lots here!”

“I-I do!” Nagito insists defensively. “It’s not like I’ve got garbage all over my room or anything. I don’t even know how it would’ve gotten in.” He frowns slightly as he takes a look out of the bedside window overlooking the back half of the hospital. He doesn’t seem upset, but he does seem incredibly confused. The faint sunlight serves to highlight the crease of emotion on his face.

“Yikes, you got a rat in your room?” Ibuki inches backwards, raising her hands defensively. “That’s gonna be a no from me, chief. Ibuki doesn’t mind rats, but...not when they’re all skitter-skattering around my room when I’m sleeping!”

Kazuichi scoffs, but a lump forms in his throat the moment the words come out of his mouth. “What, did you piss off Gundham? Maybe he deployed one of his little hamster buddies to come take you out.”

Nagito just laughs awkwardly, but there’s a twinge of hesitation to his voice, as if he’s seriously considering the idea. “I don’t know what it is I would’ve done to upset him. It’s not like I’m noisy at night or anything- I like to think I’m a pretty good neighbour! To be honest, I didn’t even wake up when I got bitten. I just went to sleep, and then when I woke up there was a big, red bite on me.”

Kazuichi doesn’t doubt Mikan’s assessment, but he’s unconvinced by the idea that Miu would’ve programmed rats into this simulation. It seems like an addition with no benefits, and a cluster of wild rats would only become a problem. Still, though he made the joke, he can’t see Gundham committing such a cowardly move as sicking the Devas on Nagito whilst he’s sleeping. How the hell does Nagito keep managing these bizarre feats?

“I-it’s the same with your haematoma, i-isn’t it?” Mikan bites her lip. “The very s-same night, you said. Y-you went to bed just—just fine, and the next morning…! It looks incredibly painful…”

“Well, for that I’m willing to believe I injured myself during the day, and then the bruise cropped up overnight, but I can’t think what I could’ve done for it to be so serious.” Nagito then laughs it off dismissively. “Oh, well, it looks like it’ll heal just fine. Sorry for the trouble, everyone.”

“Erm...it’s no problem,” Kazuichi replies awkwardly, tugging his hat further over his head. “We’ll come back when you’re feelin’ a bit better.”

“That’s appreciated,” Nagito tells him cheerfully. “With the Ultimate Nurse here, I’m sure I’ll be feeling better in no time.”

Mikan wobbles under such a sterling review, her nerves bare and visible in her wild eyes, and she resumes her duty of tidying up the room a bit with manic energy. Perhaps it’s better to leave her to get on with her work. Saying their goodbyes, Kazuichi and Ibuki quietly leave Nagito’s room, and escape the hospital to stand out in the midday sun blaring over the Jabberwock archipelago.

“Huh, so now what?” Ibuki stretches her arms up and folds them behind her head comfortably, pacing in an even circle around Kazuichi, who has started to perk up a little with the digestion of his lunch. “We’ve not got much to go on without Nagito! Should we sit outside the hospital and wait for him to get better? Like a film montage!”

“No,” Kazuichi blurts out far more bluntly than he’d intended, wincing at his own rudeness. “Actually, if...if we’ve got a spare minute, I think I should go...erm, go take care of some business. Personal business.”

“Ohh. Gotta go drop one?”

“...sure.”

“Alrighty~! Catch ya later, Kazuichi!”

Even her doorstep is prim, posh, and glamorous. He’s not sure how, but the regal energy that emanates from an inanimate building is deeply intimidating, and as if to sympathise with him, the thin bunch of flowers he holds behind his back begin to droop sadly.

Kazuichi takes a deep breath, and his lungs burn. It’s just an in-and-out job. One minute. Less than that, even. Thirty seconds. Ten seconds. He just needs out churn out an apology, hand the flowers over to her, and then he can scurry back to his cottage like the pathetic little mouse he is. Job done. Easy money.

His legs tremble. It’s like they’re trying to dissuade him from his plan. Trying to tell him he’s not good enough to pull this off, but even he can shift his mouth in the right patterns to create the word ‘sorry’. He doesn’t even need to say much more than that. He can do this. He should do this. He’s tying up a loose end and making things right. That’s what today is all about, isn’t it?

Swallowing down bile, he decides to just go for it. He raps on the door before he can waste any more time second-guessing himself. If he seals his fate now, he’s just going to have to go along for the ride. The deep breaths he’d been trying to take have turned into nothing- a ball of energy held within his chest. The longer she takes to answer the door, the more he thinks he’s going to vomit. He doesn’t want to be scrubbing puke from the decking for the second time in as many days.

As his mind spirals in a panic, the door suddenly opens, and Sonia’s round, perfect face appears before him, her gleaming eyes level with his line of sight. Her eyebrows raise, not as imperceptibly as she’d like, but she says nothing. The smile on her face is demure, and ultimately lacking in anything that could be misconstrued. It’s a little sinister how careful she can be when conducting herself around people.

“Oh, Kazuichi,” she says inoffensively. “Good afternoon.”

He swallows thickly, suddenly faced with a million and one things he could say, but he sharply reprimands himself. He only needs to say the things he came here to say. No more than that. No matter how much he might want to.

Except...when he looks at her like this, he’s unsure if that’s what he wants at all. He doesn’t want to imagine his fondness for Sonia is fading, even if it would spare him a lifetime of unrequited love. To hold so much passion, all for it to dissolve into nothing. It sounds so regrettable.

Before Sonia has a chance to repeat herself, or rightfully shut the door in his face, Kazuichi shakes his head frantically and thrusts the flowers under her nose. They’re nothing special, just a cluster of little yellow ones that have yet to fully bloom, but they’re a pretty sight nonetheless. As she moves to hesitantly take them from his hands, he begins to mutter.

“About yesterday, I’m...I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I-I know you were just...you were just trying to help. I totally don’t...think you can’t do it. I don’t even know what happened, I was...I think...I was havin’ a real bad day. It wasn’t right to lash out at you like that, or…or Gundham.”

To stop himself from rambling, he clenches his teeth hard enough to chip enamel, hanging his head and staring hard at the ground. At the very least, he hopes this apology will go down better than the one he gave yesterday. If this one flops, he’s not sure what he’ll do. Maybe he’ll just give up.

He thinks about turning around and walking off before she has a chance to respond, perhaps a cowardly move to make when he’s the one in the wrong here, but he’s done what he can. If he’s not brave enough to face what comes after, will anyone judge him for wanting to go and hide?

He doesn’t look up, both to avoid gauging Sonia’s reaction and to hide his brimming tears from her. He keeps his breath held, and hopes she’ll close the door before she has to see him snivel. Even in a moment where he thinks he deserves very little hope, he still finds himself clinging onto some shred of it.

After an unusually soothing pause, Sonia’s rich, melodic voice quietly calls out to him.

“Kazuichi. Would you...like to come inside?”

…

How he ends up standing on her doorstep one minute to sitting on the sofa in her cottage the next is a mystery to him. It felt like a blur. He’s not even sure he actually heard those words come out of her mouth, but when he looks around him, everything is a pristine white with hints of blue; a delicately furnished room. He perches so far on the edge of his seat, not wanting to get his grubby clothes on any of her belongings, that the pressure on the tips of his toes causes his legs to shudder. Everything feels so wrong.

Out of his periphery, he watches her leave for a few seconds to fill a vase up with water from the bathroom. She returns promptly, placing the vase on the table in front of him, and neatly slots the little bunch of flowers in place. The tacky yellow looks so gaudy and out of place in her beautifully tied-together room. Much like himself, he imagines. She blends in seamlessly, but he doesn’t have to look at himself to know he does not.

So, with that in mind, what in the world is she doing inviting him in?

He hurriedly wipes at the blotchy patches of tears on his cheeks, hoping she’ll pretend not to notice, but there’s only a certain amount of normal you can look craning your neck ninety degrees in the wrong direction for three whole minutes. His hands rub at the rough fabric of his overalls lining his legs, feeling a tingling itch from beneath. When he says nothing, it’s shamefully decided that the host will have to pick up the conversation.

“Thank you for the flowers,” Sonia says sweetly, taking a seat opposite Kazuichi. “You chose very well! In my country, yellow flowers are a customary gift to the royal family.”

Before she can sound any more pleased about it, Kazuichi waves a hand in the air and grumbles, “Don’t, it was a complete fluke. I just thought they were the ones that looked the nicest.” He neglects to mention that all the other colours had been varying shades of hot pink and romantic red, and what he doesn’t know about flower language in Novoselic, he makes up for in the knowledge that such passionate colours are a declaration of love anywhere in the world. He’s dense, but he certainly isn’t that dense.

“Still,” Sonia reasons. “It’s actually very appreciated that you would come to apologise. Truthfully, I...don’t know what I did to upset you. It certainly was not my intention.”

Kazuichi does his best to bite back tears, knowing she has no right to sit and be this nice to him. “It’s...it’s fine. Y-you didn’t do anything wrong, I just...flipped my shit for some reason.”

“...did you go and apologise to Gundham as well?”

Despite how inflammatory it sounds, she doesn’t say it pointedly, like she’s coaxing him to go and do that. It’s an innocuously delivered question, but one that has Kazuichi buckling. He rests his hand on his chin, using his fingers to cover as much of his face as he can. He tries not to whine.

“It...I did, but...it didn’t work.”

A moment passes. Sonia’s sad reply is, “I see.”

“It was a shit apology, anyway,” Kazuichi chuckles humourlessly, the forced mirth dying as it weaves its way between his shaking fingers. “I’m...I’m glad I did better with yours.”

With a light laugh, through brows creased in unease, Sonia playfully suggests, “Perhaps another bouquet would serve you well, though I’m not entirely sure how receptive to flowers Gundham actually is…”

“It’s fine,” Kazuichi sniffs, shaking his head decisively. “That-- that wasn’t my plan anyway. To be honest, I was...actually going to try and-- okay, I know it sounds completely stupid, and I’m...totally overstepping or whatever, but I was gonna see if I could figure out what happened to his door. I thought...maybe we might be squared away a little if I could...do that.”

Sonia blinks, and he doesn’t look up, but he can make out a faint blur of her tilting her head in interest. He expects the idea to be met with polite derision, but Sonia’s response is ingenuous.

“I must say, I was rather surprised to see you two were working together. I know he’d asked you to fix his cottage for him, but I didn’t think it would be much in your interest to help him any further. N-not that I’m disparaging that! I just thought it was...unusual.”

“Tell me about it,” Kazuichi replies gruffly. “Even now, I think it’s weird, but...I can’t really understand it myself. It was Ibuki’s idea to keep going with it. She said that...maybe if I did that, it might get better.”

“What would get better?”

A reasonable ask from a girl who’s only ever seen the crumbling attempts of a rivalry between the two boys, bolstered solely by Kazuichi. Looking back on that now, it seems so forced and lame. The only thing worse than a petty rivalry is a one-sided rivalry, and he wonders just how pathetic Gundham might’ve thought him to be. Even now, he still can’t quite pinpoint where things started to change, and when looking at Gundham brought forth a heart-throbbing fascination over a burning resentment.

He plays around with the idea of saying something honest, but as he bites his lip, he realises he’s not sure what’s true and what isn’t. At the very least, he can make a good go of it. If it’s as true as he can hope it to be, maybe that’s all it’ll take.

“I...I think I ruined something. S-something that...I think I liked.”

When the word ‘like’ slips from his tongue, his throat goes dry, eliciting a hot nausea. He’s too exhausted to dive into what churns his stomach so horribly, and he sits and stews in the awful feeling in silence. If he’s going to bare his soul a little in the presence of such a divine young lady, the least he can do is not vomit all over her sofa.

The pause that follows is painful, but Sonia’s eventual reply is like music to his ears. In the comfort of her own room, and in his company no less, her voice is subdued but prominent. Her articulation doesn’t fade, but her tone becomes comfortable and dull. Not fit for a grand speech, but an idle chat. Homely. It takes some prodding for him to remember that he should really be paying attention to her words, rather than enjoying the sounds that they make.

“Kazuichi,” she begins. “You know, when I was a little younger, I...I used to completely despise the occult.”

For the first time since his arrival, he looks up at her, and slowly blinks.

“It’s true, though I’m sure it sounds unbelievable. You see, occult fascination, the paranormal and the criminal, it’s not a very ladylike hobby, and it’s certainly no hobby for a member of royalty. Conduct is important! There are rules and regulations to how one must develop themselves in order to become an outstanding member of society. I’m sure you might imagine that being a princess would mean limitless opportunities, but it is quite the opposite.”

He nods silently.

“So, growing up, as I was told to be wary and stay away from such things, naturally, I grew to...resent them a little. Not because I actually hated them, but...I believe it may be because I hated that I was unable to love them. At the time, I had no idea that what I wanted was to explore it! I’d simply assumed that it was nothing more than a waste of my time. I...I despised that it would be a waste of my time, when all I really wanted to do was learn more.”

She begins to fuss with the hem of her skirt as she speaks, her eyes flitting over every stitch in the seams of the fabric.

“I’m ashamed to admit it took me so long to realise what my feelings were. Not ignorant, blind hate, but...fascination. I hated that I couldn’t understand myself. All that discomfort, that discontentment, came with being unable to admit to myself that I wanted something that I was sure I could not have. Now, certainly, I am not allowed to have such hobbies, but...I do have some freedom and time to myself, and how I conduct myself in the privacy of my own chambers is entirely my own business, I think.”

She says that with such a beautiful grin. Her nose scrunches with the kind of delight that comes with seeking out a victory above the misery of expectation. It had been tricky and confusing, but she’d managed it, and the grace she performs with is dazzling. He didn’t think it possible. Kazuichi feels a sting of envy for her, though it’s quickly overcome by an enormous wave of pride. He can’t stop the faintest smile from forming on his face.

“I think,” she tells him softly, “that if you confine yourself to uncertainty, you will not get very far. It may even feel humiliating to admit to what it is you want, but...in the end, it is a marvellous freedom that may change our lives for the better.”

Through a stifled sob, Kazuichi forces a grin, chuckling, “Man, I...s-sometimes I wish I could be like you. You’re some role model, y’know that?”

Sonia laughs merrily, placing a hand to her chest with sparkling eyes. “Well, I hope so! That is one of my roles as a princess, after all. I am pleased to be doing my duties.”

Kazuichi begins to wipe at his face, but the more he does so, the more the tears fall until he’s hiccuping gently into the palm of his hand. It’s such a crippling feeling of weakness, but he’s too smitten with the patience that’s been bestowed upon him. He doesn’t know a huge deal about Sonia’s private life outside of what she does during school, but something about her words feels like respite. He’s not sure if it’s true understanding, the connection of their experiences, but it’s a warm empathy he experiences very, very rarely. He can’t help but melt under the weight of it, and though he’d rather not cry in front of the princess, he wonders if wanting to do so, if letting himself do so, is the kind of thing she’d been talking about.

After a warm moment, one he feels isn’t laden with such painful silence, Sonia gently asks, “Kazuichi, I hope you’re feeling better after your injury. I’m sorry I could not be of more help to you in the moment. I am happy to have seen you today though.”

Though it’s lacklustre, Kazuichi manages a playful scoff to redirect the conversation, telling her, “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. To be honest, you should see what Nagito’s going through right now. I bet he’s got Mikan rushed off her feet.”

With wide eyes, Sonia replies, “You know, I heard about that! Something about an unfortunate accident with a tree. I’m surprised he doesn’t just lock himself away in his cottage forever, what with all the misfortune that befalls him. How terribly unlucky!”

Kazuichi continues to wipe at the redness around his eyes, sniffling, “Yeah, I don’t...I don’t think that’ll help him much. He’s getting beaten even in his sleep. Wakin’ up with allsorts of bumps and bruises, it’s kind of ridiculous. Y’know, this door is one thing, but if I could figure out what’s going on with Nagito, I think that really would be impressive.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Sonia claps her hands together with a laugh. “Though I must admit, I find his habits to be quite strange. I do see him wandering around at night from time to time. Perhaps he’s sustaining injuries whilst the light is low. Even I am prone to tripping over in such conditions.”

Kazuichi coughs for a second, taken aback. “Y-you’ve seen that? W-wait, how are you seeing that? What are you wandering around at night for? N-not that it’s my business, it’s just…ahem.”

Sonia just shoots him a flippant but polite smile, explaining, “Kazuichi, you have no need to worry. I enjoy taking a walk in the evening from time to time, especially when the parks are empty. I find it quite relaxing. I assume Nagito is doing the same, but...he does act a little rudely. He doesn’t talk to me at all if I call his name, but...ah, well, I suppose if I wish to take a walk unbothered, he does too.”

“I s’pose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Kazuichi grunts, the image of Nagito’s unassuming, dopey smile rearing in his head. “He’s a weird one, alright. Here’s hoping he doesn’t get any ideas of doin’ that whilst Mikan’s on call. She’ll shit herself if she checks on him and finds he’s disappeared.”

“I rather think she will,” Sonia chuckles awkwardly. “It seems between the two of you, she very much has her work cut out for her. I do hope she was able to treat your wound in the end. She is quite diligent!”

“Oh, that.” Kazuichi suddenly swallows, hiding a shy expression behind his hand as he admits, barely audibly, “I...I didn’t go.”

“Hm?”

“I...didn’t go,” he repeats. “To Mikan. I...I lied. A-at least to...to Gundham, I lied.”

A frown begins to form, and it etches a crease between Sonia’s thin brows. With a sigh, she starts to chide, “Kazuichi…! If you are injured, you must get it seen to!”

“I-I did!” Kazuichi yelps defensively. “W-well, I kinda did! Gundham helped me clean it up. He...he bandaged it up for me. I know I told him I’d go, but...”

“Whilst I am glad some care has been taken, if Gundham treated your wound and advised you to go to Mikan, you must definitely do so! Does it still hurt?”

Kazuichi pauses. He’s not thought about it. To be honest, since yesterday, everything has just blended into one big sore patch. It doesn’t aid the fact that so much of his helpless frustrations had been turned in on himself, and instead of the pain in his foot standing out so starkly, it just feels as dull and painful as the rest of his body.

Truthfully, he mumbles, “I...I can’t tell.”

Even with such a cross expression, Sonia’s face isn’t marred in the slightest by harsh lines or quirks. Her expression remains disapproving as she slips from her seat and kneels on the floor, insistently tapping Kazuichi’s shoe.

With expectancy, she demands, “Now, please, let me take a look. If Mikan is busy caring for Nagito, then I must step up and assist.”

A hiss of a squeak escapes Kazuichi as he pulls his legs up away from her, but there’s no place he can really hide. His eyes bulge. For her sake, he tries not to look so horrified, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t want this to happen. He feels he can’t let it. For Gundham to insist is one thing, but for Sonia to is another. He’s not afraid of her, but his worry is fierce and inexplicable.

Hesitance crosses her features. She senses his anxiety, but doesn’t yield quite so easily, as she tells him, “Kazuichi, we are classmates. I...I am aware that someone like you, or like Gundham, may not be so receptive to touch. That is okay, but...if you could just let me look at it, at the very least, then it would put me at great ease. What you told Gundham will not need to be a lie.”

Tentatively, he puts his feet on the ground, but makes no move to let her take a look. He clamps his hands firmly onto his thighs, feeling a sting from underneath catching the faint movement of his clothes. It elicits and itch that runs from his knees down to his toes, where it pesters at the bandaged wound on his foot.

“It...it’s okay,” he says glumly. “Really. It...it doesn’t feel bad.” He tries not to catch his tongue on his teeth as he speaks, his nerves boiling because he knows that it all feels bad enough that nothing sticks out prominently. Of course, he won’t tell her that, but it’s not like he needs to. She’s far too sharp for him.

With a tilt of her head, she catches it, and quietly asks, “Kazuichi, you’ve got...something on your—is that a bloodstain?”

It’s not big. Just a small, incidental stain, but it seeps out a little in dots over his leg. Before he can catch it, she reaches out to gesture, and he responds by roughly scrubbing his hands over the spot with an awkward half-laugh. It burns when he does so.

“S’nothing. My clothes get dirty all the time.”

“But...that doesn’t explain why—”

“It’s paint.”

“It’s not paint.”

“It’s just a scratch, then!” He gulps his spike in temper back, knowing he’s immediately rescinded a lie right in Sonia’s face. Humbly, but in no way convincingly, he mumbles, “I think I kinda scratch myself up in my sleep or something. It’s...it’s not big.”

Sonia’s frown becomes flat, and the way she exhales in complete disbelief is alarmingly cute. If he could smile right now, he would. Not because he thinks her face overshadows her words, but because she’s so full of sincerity that even the slightest huff feels like it’s worth its weight in gold. That kind of earnest nature is something he finds deeply attractive. It’s just strange how both she and Gundham can occupy that category with wildly varying results.

“You should not lie if you are not very good at it,” Sonia tells him warningly.

It’s not so much of a lie, he thinks. He does get itchy fingers from time to time, especially in times of stress and dire anxiety. When there’s no work to fiddle with, no machines to tinker with, they occupy themselves with what they can, and if he can’t satisfy their frustration with work, inevitably, they will turn on him in a fit of anguish. Just because he happened to be awake whilst it occurred, and not asleep in bed, isn’t enough of a damning factor for it to matter. He thinks this through clenched teeth, knowing well he’s a fucking liar, but something picks at his brain in that moment that shines a light on a lingering thought.

“If it is not my place to pry, then I—”

“W-wait. I think…”

The words ‘believable excuse’ cross his mind for a second, and he sits forward, staring down at Sonia with wide eyes. She looks back up at him with bemusement. Before an apprehensive word can escape her lips, he claps his hands together hard enough to startle her.

“I got it!”

“Wh—” Sonia stammers, pulling herself back into her chair with a pale face. “G-got what?!”

“What happened!” He stands up suddenly, almost knocking over the vase of flowers in the process, and the beginnings of a smile begin to form on his face. “I-I think I have an idea of what happened! The other night, with Gundham’s door! It...okay, it doesn’t sound totally right, but I think...it makes sense.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but the colour quickly comes back to Sonia’s cheeks, and her eyes gleam. “You think so? How marvellous! Please, do tell!”

He starts to gesticulate wildly in order to spur his own thoughts, and the usual excitement of a plan, a machine of a thought that begins to whirr, injects his movements with great energy. Much like his mechanical endeavours, once a thought sticks, all else is forgotten in favour of running with it. Misery is no match for passion.

“I...I don’t think I can, exactly,” he tells her sheepishly, taking a few paces around the table. “But, I know those hamsters do.”

Sonia tilts her head with uncertainty. “The Devas? I’m unsure if that is true. Gundham said they didn’t see what happened. Not with any clarity, anyway…”

“Okay, and...you believed them?”

She blinks. “Huh? W...well, yes, of course, I-- why would they lie?”

“Exactly! Why would they lie?”

At this, Kazuichi is met with a frown, as Sonia murmurs, “You cannot seriously be suggesting that those hamsters actually destroyed something as large and sturdy as a door. Even if that were true, I am sure they would tell Gundham about it immediately!”

“That’s not what I’m getting at,” Kazuichi corrects, waving a hand. “I’m not saying they did it. I think they might’ve contributed, but I think the real culprit is actually Nagito.”

Sonia then stands up. Her face doesn’t read disagreement, but certainly suspicion. Folding her arms, she asks him, “You believe it to be Nagito? I don’t consider Nagito to be deceitful over something so minor. We are all aware of how...unlucky he can be. If it turned out to be an event of his bad karma, I think he would say so!”

“Yeah, he probably would, if he actually knew it had happened.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you said yourself that he walks around at night...”

“Alright, but that does not necessarily mean—”

“—and you said that he doesn’t respond to you if you try to talk to him.”

“Yes, I did, but…? What are you extrapolating from that?”

“I mean, when you think about it, circumstantial evidence and bad luck considered, what are the chances that Nagito sleepwalks?”

Chapter Text

“I-I mean, it’s an incredible deduction, but...how did you get to that point again?”

Sonia flattens her skirt out over her knees, running her hands over the smooth, velvety fabric. She tries not to eye the faint flecks of blood on Kazuichi’s overalls in a way that he’ll notice. After an outburst of excitement, he’s returned to his seat, resting his chin on his hands as he tries to fight back a breathless smile.

“Out of all the injuries Nagito managed to rack up over the past few days, the weirdest by far is a rodent bite,” Kazuichi explains, indicating to a place on his ankle. “Low down too, in an easy enough to reach spot. He thinks it happened whilst he was asleep, which I reckon is true, but he couldn’t wrap his head around how an animal could’ve gotten into his cottage.”

“I see,” Sonia taps a finger to her chin in thought. “So...if the Devas couldn’t get into his cottage, then it must’ve happened somewhere else, yes? So, that means that Nagito was able to get into Gundham’s cottage somehow!”

“It seems that way, but I don’t think it was through any fault of his own. I think it’s likely he fell whilst sleepwalking and brought the door down with him. That would explain where that fucking enormous injury on his back came from.”

Sonia winces, lips tugging into a grimace as she murmurs, “Ouch. How painful. There is just one thing that still confuses me, though. You say that one of the hamsters is responsible for the bite, but that means they would’ve seen exactly what had happened! Why wouldn’t they explain to Gundham what they saw? It would’ve cleared everything up rather quickly I imagine!”

Kazuichi bites his tongue as he thinks, allowing a pause to stretch out between the two of them. She makes a good point, and it bothers him too. He doesn’t want to risk making dumb speculations, but he can just feel that he’s on the right track here. It’s the same kind of fizz he gets over his skin when a blueprint begins to come together.

There are still a few things that require confirmation, but there’s no telling what the Devas will end up admitting to Gundham. Regardless, the fact one of them got a little too snippy with Nagito is certain. With that in mind, it strikes Kazuichi that there’s something conspiratorial at hand. Almost like they’re trying to hide something.

What would there be to hide? Would it be something that they’d rather keep hidden from Gundham? Something that might even get them into trouble with him? What could that be? If Nagito were to burst into their cottage and one of them were to deliver a quick nip to the ankle to chase him off, well, that’s basically no harm done. There’s no reason to hide something like that, is there? Kazuichi would imagine Gundham would be quite pleased by their resilience and their quick action, and Nagito doesn’t seem enormously bothered about the bite itself either.

“Ugh,” Kazuichi grumbles, covering his face with his hands. “Something…something about that bite. Man, I can just feel I’m close.”

He rewinds the thought in his brain, fingers twitching in anticipation of an epiphany. All it would take is for the Devas to tell Gundham that Nagito unwittingly broke into their cottage, and all would be solved. If they can’t tell Gundham that, then why? The only thing he can think of is that revealing even that much would somehow drop them in it.

Kazuichi bolts out of his seat with a screech for the second time, much to Sonia’s wild alarm.

“Oh! I got it!”

“P-please, you must stop doing that! You will absolutely give me a heart attack,” Sonia puffs, gently slapping at her chest with a withered sigh. Still, in support of his endeavour, she drags herself to her feet to join him. Shaking away the encounters of a brief fright, she plants her hands on her hips with confidence. “Please, do tell me what you think! I am rather excited by your explanation.”

“Erm, okay, well...we’ve kind of been working under the assumption that Nagito fell through the door, and the hamsters came to, uh...defend their turf, I suppose.” Something about saying that aloud sounds completely insane, but he’s seen how territorial those little creatures get.

“That seems very in character for them!” is Sonia’s bright assessment.

“But, there’s no reason they’d hide that from Gundham, would they? They’ve clearly done something they want to keep quiet, so...what if the two events were switched?”

Kazuichi makes a loose gesture with his fingers, making small circles to mime a swapping pattern. Sonia blinks, face awash with vacancy, but uncertainty begins to creep across her features. As she tilts her head, she quietly asks, “Well, how would that work?”

“O-okay, work with me here. Say that Nagito is lurking around outside, looking suspicious as hell but likely doing nothing ‘cos he’s, y’know...asleep. I mean, if you look out your window and he’s just fucking around outside, you’d probably be pretty creeped out, right?”

“I imagine I would be, yes!”

“So, imagine you’re…” he pauses to emit a heavy sigh, “...imagine you’re a highly territorial, well-trained and defensive...hamster.”

Sonia nods fervently, her beam like sunshine. “How fun! I think I can imagine it quite well. If I were one of Gundham’s hamsters, especially if I were Maga-Z, I think I would be ready to defend my owner!” she barks, clenching her fists with such ferocity that Kazuichi worries she might swing for him in a fit of overzealousness.

“Uh...o-okay, yeah, do that. So, with that in mind, how hard would it be for you to unlatch a window and escape the cottage?”

“Oh! Q-quite easy, I imagine! I’ve seen them do it before!”

“And, with this weird guy- and even as a hamster you know he’s weird- lingering outside your house like a stray pervert, how are you gonna chase him away?”

Loud enough to rattle Kazuichi’s eardrums, and with all the tenacity of a war-cry, Sonia yells, “I’d bite him!”

“And, if you were suddenly bitten on the ankle by a furry little bastard, and you’ve not got the wits or consciousness about you to do anything about it, what’s gonna end up happening?”

Sonia begins to jump up and down on the spot, clapping her hands together as she squeals, “I’d fall right over! Into the door, sending it crashing down! Ka-boom!”

“And, if your owner woke up, pissed to hell and back that some dickhead’s mashed his door in, what are you not gonna tell him?”

Clapping a hand over her mouth, “That I was responsible! Kazuichi, is that what you think? Why, that makes perfect sense! I-I mean, it’s far-fetched, but I like it!” Sonia jumps out of the battle-ready stance she’d managed to work herself into over the course of their role-play, sliding back into the posture of an elegant princess with ease. With a breathless smile, she declares, “Wow, what a mystery!”

He hides his proud smile behind his hand, scrubbing at the side of his cheek and muttering, “Sonia, you were looking after the hamsters the morning after it happened, right? Did you notice anything odd?”

She hums, pursing her lips. “Now that you mention it, they were rather subdued. I simply assumed that all the ruckus from the night before had frightened them a little.”

Kazuichi blinks, his brows creasing into a disbelieving squint. “Really? You think those little fuckers get frightened?”

“Well, one would imagine so,” Sonia laughs sheepishly. “But, I could believe that they were simply anxious about what had occurred. This may very well be what happened, but I doubt Gundham will believe it unless the Devas confess fully! Nevertheless, we should go and explain everything! Then this mystery will be solved!”

Kazuichi’s grin is unsteady but earnest, glimmering awkwardly in the light. As he runs his hands over his face, wiping away a thin film of sweat, he stammers, “Y-you really believe me? Man, I kinda thought I’d never get there. I...I guess Ibuki really helped me out today.”

She’s a weird kind of guardian angel for sure, one with paper-clip jewellery and a hairspray halo, but she’d worked magic in an incredibly mysterious kind of way. Thinking about her influence, Kazuichi is reminded of the moment he and Gundham had encountered her in the music venue, and his breath hitches at the memory. Her sly grin, matched with curious eyes. Observant. She made a joke at what Kazuichi thought was his expense, but her tone certainly hadn’t suggested it. He gulps back a mouthful of sour saliva, his silence allowing Sonia to bustle around in preparation of going out.

“Let us go, Kazuichi! We shall uncover this mystery and bring the truth to light!” she declares, pointing at him with a prim, pale finger. As Kazuichi obediently moves to follow her, infected by her energy, she giggles and says, “Wow, I sound a little bit like the kind of detective you’d see in a manga! Investigating mysteries is rather fun, isn’t it? I’m a little eager to see if another one crops up.”

Her cheerful nature is deeply endearing, and remarkably motivating. Right at the beginning of their school lives, Kazuichi can remember the impact her bright demeanour and shining smile had made on him. No matter what depths of a bad mood he’d find himself in, having her around lifted the atmosphere. It bolstered his confidence. It made him feel like things were going to be alright.

So, it had been an unsettling change of pace when something had shifted, and spying her face brought only a cold, sickening feeling to his stomach. Maybe he’d gotten too used to relying on her for his own happiness. Isn’t that kind of a burden to put on someone else? Had she sensed that he’d hinged so much of himself to her existence? Shameful as the thought feels, even now, as the knowledge that things won’t work out truly begins to set in, he can’t help but relish in her joy. It hurts, but he can’t help it. It’s not her fault, and it’s not really his fault either. It’s simply how things are working out to be.

But in this instance, her joy feels like a pleasant, shallow pool of water compared to the deep, bottomless body he’s looking into from above. It hits him so suddenly, like teetering on the edge of a cliff, and he stops abruptly, causing the soles of his trainers to skid across the ground.

To mitigate hatred is what he’s here for, but for some inexplicable reason, the idea of having to witness the opposite end of the spectrum feels even worse. There’s no denying he’d wanted to restore all he’d helped to build in that short span of time, the goal he’d been chasing after in the hopes of letting go of what was chaining him to a sinking ship, but the thought of actually reaching the end makes him choke. Not a fear of losing what he’d worked for, but a fear of something else.

“Sonia.”

Sonia skids to a halt, still caught in the posture of a sprinter, and she blinks, wide and delicate, at Kazuichi’s sudden pause.

“Kazuichi? Why did you stop? Let’s go and tell—”

“You go and tell him.”

She steps back, her heels clicking neatly against the ground. Even such a mundane noise sounds pitch perfect when it’s coming from her. She gently clasps her hands together, worry tugging at the corners of her plump lips as the beginnings of a murmur are cut off by Kazuichi gently shooing her in the direction of Gundham’s cottage.

“Go,” he tells her softly, biting back a pain that shoots up through his jaw. Invasive, it prickles at the backs of his eyes, threatening a familiar and horrible warmth. “Go, tell him you figured everything out. I...I reckon he’d be really happy to hear you explain it.”

“But, Kazuichi,” Sonia starts, uncertainty oozing from the way her voice wobbles. “You put all the pieces together. It is only right that you claim—”

“I don’t want to.”

“Huh? But, you—”

“I don’t...want to,” he repeats, gentler this time. He begins to twist the braided lock of his hair between his fingers, causing it to unravel slightly. “I’ll let you take this one, okay? Don’t worry, it’s not-- I’m not gonna tell anyone. I mean, sitting with you sort of helped me figure it out, so...it’s okay. I just...think it would make him much happier to hear it all from you.”

More than if he heard it from him, anyway. He doesn’t say that part aloud, instead deciding to shimmy back towards the gated entrance to the hotel grounds before Sonia can get in a real argument. He’s not fond of the wild apprehension dusting her features, but he’s sure the result will make up for it, even if he won’t be there to see it in person.

As he scarpers, leaving Sonia sputtering with protest behind him, he thinks that if he’s going to actually do something worthwhile for Gundham then this is a much better course of action. Regrettable, perhaps, but there’s little point in painting himself as a better person when he can use this to boost the woman he loves from beneath. Like Ibuki said, sometimes a last hurrah is needed when discarding such a strong feeling for good. However, this time, he doesn’t feel the need to get it all out for someone to hear. This time, he’d rather let that fact die in silence.

Just like last time.

“Do you understand how serious this is? You may both be in middle school now, but in high school and college, cheating can get you suspended. In some cases, it might even get you expelled. Did either of you think of that before making such a silly mistake?”

A dark-haired boy no older than fourteen grits his teeth. Against the worn linoleum floor of a second-floor classroom, his feet shuffle impatiently, waiting for a moment for the teacher to stop talking. To be called here after a test makes it obvious to everyone what’s gone wrong. When the teacher finally shoots an expectant glare, he squares his shoulders.

“I-it’s not my fault! I didn’t ask, but Kazuichi kept giving me the answers! I wasn’t even listening to him.”

The boy standing next to him, made shorter only by his timid slouch, says nothing, but his mouth hangs open as he watches the other boy plead. Even when the teacher’s firm gaze is redirected to him, casting a glint of a reflection over the lens of his glasses, he can’t pull his eyes away. He remains still until the teacher speaks again.

“Kazuichi, is this true? Whether you were trying to help or not, cheating is still cheating. You do understand that, don’t you?”

The boy says nothing. He hangs his head silently, allowing the events to take their course. Perhaps if he stays silent, if he takes all of this on, his friend might see some sense and come back for him. However, he knows it’s too late. He’s already lied, and going back on that would create far more trouble than the cheating alone.

When he doesn’t speak any further, the teacher sighs, and tells him, “This is the one time you can make a mistake like this, but you cannot try doing this again. If I catch you trying to share your answers, no matter how good your intention is, Kazuichi, you will be receiving a proper punishment. Do you understand?”

The teacher is met with a slow nod of the head, and nothing more.

“You’re an incredibly intelligent boy, but don’t let that go to your head. I know that you know better.”

It’s true. He does. That’s why when he’d been faced with the cheeky but panicked expression of his struggling friend sitting in the desk next to him, he’d hesitated. It wasn’t like copying notes from each other during class, it was real test conditions. Against his better judgement, he hadn’t been able to decline such an earnest offer, and the result of helping a friend overshadowed the risk of being caught. Sure, he hadn’t actually expected it to go wrong, but he hadn’t expected to become the sole culprit either.

“You two can go now. You may be off the hook with just a warning now, but I won’t be so lenient with you next time. Go on. Off you go.”

Awaiting the moment the classroom door shuts behind them, Kazuichi wants to break out into a laugh, but he can’t bring himself to. Even when he turns to his classmate and tries to force it, he realises it won’t be heard when his friend is already halfway down the corridor.

They walk home separately. They come to school the next day separately, and from then on, that’s how it always is.

The worst part is he can’t even bring himself to be angry about it. What does he care about being scolded? It was a dumb move, but it was no harm done. No, what truly frustrates him is the fact that his judgement ultimately yielded nothing. Less than nothing. No loyalty. No fond memories. No intimacy. Where he was willing to be thrown under the bus, the boy he’d called a friend wouldn’t even come back to pick the pieces up.

To take a leap for a friendship had put him at a permanent loss, and he wonders if he’d be better off remaining ignorant of the truth of his value as a friend. Perhaps it’s easier to keep friends at a distance, instead of taking a risk for their sake, only to lose them altogether.

As the sun begins to set, casting a shimmering ray of orange across the ocean waves, the atmosphere of the surroundings begin to change. Creatures in the sand begin to burrow, the students scattered across the archipelago start to wind down, and the thick stalks of palm trees send faint shadows sprawling across the little beach on the first island. Peaceful and subdued, the faintest hint of a breeze winds its way through buildings. It’s the beginning of another serene evening.

Kazuichi stumbles to a stop behind a little outcrop on the shore, the lights of the hotel still peering out through darkened clusters of trees, and as he takes an ungraceful seat on a dusty patch of mud and sand, he breaks and begins to cry.

And he cries.

As hot tears begin to well and fall, so too do clusters of fizzing thoughts, unable to keep themselves contained within his realm of understanding. It’s obfuscating. Like this, he can’t make out what’s making him lose it and what isn’t. He can’t tell himself what’s wrong. Truly, he knows he has no idea what’s wrong with him, and it only makes everything that much worse. He’s made utterly dizzy. Unable to get a grip.

It would be so much easier if someone could just come along, take one look at him, and tell him everything he needs to know. Ibuki seems so good at just snapping her fingers and producing a worthy thought. Hajime, too, is sharp enough to dig up things that are hidden, and they’ve both been so reliable that Kazuichi really doesn’t know what to say to them. Is thanking them weird? Facetiously, he thinks of giving them a free pass to beat him up as a reward.

Sonia is one he has absolutely no hope of making anything up to. Not unless he’s able to reinvigorate Novoselic’s military power, overhaul their public infrastructure, and put them on the moon, and even then he’d be about a hundred years of labour short. The more he sobs, the more he can feel something disappearing, something seeping out of his system, but it’s replaced by an anxiety of having to exchange words with her again. If he can skulk about behind the scenes and support from beneath just like he’s done time and time again in his life, he’ll be happy to go ignored. The fabric of his nerves have untangled themselves, flayed out in loose threads, and all he can think of doing is running back to his workshop and working until he drops dead.

He wonders if he’s lying to himself, hoping that right about now Sonia and Gundham are chatting happily, resolving the unusual predicament and returning to as much normalcy as they’re willing to allow. The thought lingers for a second before he realises that it doesn’t really matter. He went this far so that it wouldn’t have to.

It doesn’t matter if it hurts, and it doesn’t matter if it makes him happy either. He did something. He did something that from the bottom of his heart he thought was good. Something he thought the people around him deserved. With that in his shaky mind, he starts to feel his regrets dissolve little by little. If he can be certain about that, above all else, then that’s as much as he can ask for. There’s not much point in worrying about his actions being disingenuous when he’s already done them. They're out of his hands now.

In a weird way, it feels...nice.

It feels nice to hurt. Nice to feel a bittersweet concoction of sorrow and joy. An acid-like contentment that burns holes in his stomach, leaving the residual sting comfortable and familiar. The relaxing lull that follows a bout of vomiting. A chance to get your breath back. The headache his tears leave him with causes him to rest his head on his knees, allowing the melody of sweeping waves to fill his ears. His legs still burn a little, blending smoothly with the ache spreading through his foot.

It’s not like it’s been a performance worthy of a reward. He’d dug this hole himself, that much he’s sure of, but it’s...okay if he can’t quite get himself out of it, isn't it? So long as he can patch up over himself and stop anyone around him from falling in, it’ll be alright. He can keep this going.

Soothed by the gentle fatigue pulling at his reddened eyes, he curls himself up into a comfortable little ball and soon falls asleep.

Chapter Text

His consciousness stirs before his eyes open. Loose and languid, an approaching feeling that he’s existing somewhere in the world. It’s a comfortable but surreal experience, as the knowledge that he’s awake precedes any physical sensation for a good few seconds. The lazy, relaxing nothing dissolves, allowing what’s hiding beneath to bleed through. It starts as a faint burning, both hot and cold, spreading out from the inside. His hands ache, his wrists frozen in place, and the hairs on the backs of his arms are stirred to attention by a chilly breeze. It renders his skin numb. The drone of the sea ebbs into his ears and brings him to.

Before anything else, he tries to flex the muscles in his hands, unlocking them from the awkward position they’ve been held in, and as he begins to wonder just where and when he fell asleep, a warm pressure seeps into his shoulder. A twitch ignited through his collarbone. As Kazuichi cranes his neck to lift his head, a series of painful spasms of muscle run between his shoulder blades, and he’s met with a soothingly warm breath dancing over his forehead.

He doesn’t register the other face even when it hangs mere inches away from his own. The proximity startles him, and he only gets a measly half-second to run his eyes over a mess of black eyeliner and cracks running through a fake tattoo before a voice catches his ears in a vice-like grip. From between gently chapped lips, glinting behind the barest hint of a snaggle-tooth, it’s deep, commanding, everything he should know to fear, but somehow soft and woven with veracity.

“How long have you been out here for?”

What escapes Kazuichi is not a response, but a small, spacey mewl. The wires are still reconnecting, he’s not quite awake enough to assess what’s going on, but his eyes seem utterly captivated. Realisation is gradual, his mouth slowly opening in a silent cry. The fascination in his gaze remains, if only faintly. His attempt to swallow down his reaction is unsuccessful, and he sputters.

He’s unable to get anything out. There’s no coherency whatsoever, and he eventually bites his lip, looking down into his lap and knowing it’s too late to just walk away and pretend like neither of them saw each other. He doesn’t even remember being asked a question, so when he’s faced with Gundham’s expectant silence, he begins to stretch out the cramping joints in his wrist to bide his time.

Eventually, he mumbles, “I...didn’t realise I fell asleep.”

Gundham says nothing. He waits patiently for Kazuichi to stop fidgeting, but does so sitting back on his heels to allow some distance. Kazuichi wonders if he has anything to say at all, or if perhaps he’d just come here out of obligation, seeing him fast asleep curled up on the beach. When he’s managed to roll all the lingering aches and pains out of his wrists and shoulders, Kazuichi steels himself and decides to face him.

He doesn’t like what he sees, if only because he thinks he does like it. Gundham has striking eyes, dull as their natural colour is, and being put under them in any harsh condition would elicit the kind of fear that would roundly abuse Kazuichi’s fight-or-flight response. Here, however, they’re unusually placid. Watchful in a way Kazuichi finds intimidating, but ultimately unassertive. A peaceful neutrality. Something he attributes to being stared right through by a person who considers him very little. How conflicting, to feel both completely lonely yet gratified to be subject to such lack of offence.

He has a feeling that acknowledging one another like this is the key to whatever needs to be said next, and in wild anticipation, his aching fingers buzzing with anxiety, his eyes flit from place to place. He remembers having some thoughts in the past on Gundham’s face, few and far between his chances were to see it close enough that it would prompt any contemplation, but he’s too shaken to note anything of value now. Above all else, he just doesn’t want to see it twist into anything that would hurt him. If he could, he’d reason that he’d never do anything to warrant being beaten down upon, but he’s never been able to manage that plea before.

Gundham emits a sigh so soft, so imperceptible, that it blends seamlessly into the whispering breeze and ocean waves. It’s made evident only by the slight sag of his shoulders. Behind closed lips, his jaw shifts around the thought of what he wants to say, and after a few moments, he speaks.

“So, you lied to me.”

The rush from his stomach up to his throat brings Kazuichi a horrible exhilaration. Why is it that even when the conversation at hand is becoming unpleasant, he still feels so eager for it to happen? It’s not his normal behaviour, choosing avoidance over everything else, but he’s rooted to the spot. He wants Gundham to keep speaking. He wants to hear him. He wants to see where he’ll go.

Swallowing his breath, Kazuichi simply nods.

Gundham clicks his tongue, mulling over the lack of real response. He doesn’t explode at Kazuichi’s feeble admission. He doesn’t even frown. Instead, he looks down at the shards of seashell tucked into the sand between them. When he speaks again, his voice is remarkably subdued.

“People don’t make a lot of time for liars. I certainly don’t.”

Kazuichi tries not to wince at the accusation. Gundham continues.

“The problem that...occurs with lying in that fashion is that the more you do so, the less inclined people will feel to help. After all, if you won’t bother to respect a person enough with the truth, then...why should they bother to help you?”

A response is bitten back. Kazuichi remains silent, but he knows what his own answer would be. He’s tempted to get up and scuttle away. Stew in his own quietude.

“But, I realise,” Gundham murmurs, leaning in to inspect the angle of Kazuichi’s face hidden behind his knees, “that you don’t expect me to bother, and I see now that, in this state, you won’t even bother with yourself either.” He sits back up and rests his hands on his knees. “That isn’t really my problem,” he says, truthfully. “However, I’ve spent a lot of my time caring for creatures who cannot care for themselves properly. Not just as a result of domestication, but...injury, poor health, abuse, even...even loneliness can reduce an animals motivation to maintain their own wellbeing.”

When Kazuichi dares to look up at him, Gundham adds, “And, the same goes for...humans, too, though I tend to forget that from time to time.”

In a low voice, Kazuichi mumbles, “So...that’s how you see me? I-I know...I know I lied to you, but...you don’t need to justify it to me by turning me into some-- some miserable, little dog. I’m surprised that you even would…”

The faintest amount of surprise comes through a small blink, and Gundham flatly replies, “That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

Kazuichi watches him carefully, his sullen eyes misted by a desire to collapse all over again. What’s worse than being yelled at is being pitied, and any amount of care taken by Gundham in this regard, a guy overzealous as he is aloof, makes it hurt. If he recognises that Kazuichi won’t let him bother with him, where does he think he’s going with this?

His silence prompts Gundham to explain, and Gundham begins by folding his arms and relaxing into a sigh, pulling his legs out to sit on his side for a little more comfort. As he speaks, Kazuichi can’t help but notice the way his fingers pull at the fabric of his scarf.

“Over the course of my time in this world, I have sustained countless injuries in my efforts to nurture and rehabilitate animals. I’ve been bitten, scratched, pecked, plucked, even poisoned-- if you can think of it, it’s happened. I almost lost an eye to a chicken, and a few fingers to a Rottweiler. That same dog landed me in hospital with a fractured wrist. I had two of my teeth knocked out by a bear. I once got bitten by a snake, causing me to fall out of a tree and snap my ankle. I’ve had my nose broken more times than I could care to recall.”

Upon seeing Kazuichi’s growing alarm, Gundham shakes his head, dismissing his tangent.

“However, no matter how much I’ve been hurt, not once have I ever raised my hand or my voice to any of those creatures. I’ve never needed to, and I don’t plan on doing so at any point in my life because I know they don’t seek to hurt me for any personal gratification. They’re...often scared, and doing their best to survive. It’s not easy to be vulnerable. Humans can’t even trust each other, yet we do not think how hard it is to be trusted by other creatures. Animals are just as capable of setting boundaries as we are.”

Kazuichi watches him, still wordless, but a train of thought is somewhat evident on his face. He’s listening intently to what’s being said, but the conclusion still eludes him.

“My...point is, is that despite my conflicted feelings towards humans, you...never posed a threat to me. I have known since the beginning that you could never do me any harm in a way that actually matters, so...to respond to you with greater hostility than I would do to an animal with the capability to take my life is...perhaps...unfair.”

Kazuichi’s gulp is audible as the message starts to sink in, and the corners of his eyes begin to brim with tears. Gundham exhales, looking somewhat unsatisfied with his own words.

“It is easier for me to care for a creature that would not hide its killing intent behind lies than it is to care for fickle, inscrutable humans, but...in many cases, as I seem to forget, they are more scared of me than I am of them. And, I do understand that it...often isn’t about what’s easiest for me. In that sense, I suppose I lied to myself for my own benefit, which...I think, at this point, would make us even.”

As a few droplets roll down Kazuichi’s cheeks, he buries his face into his knees to hide an awkward smile he knows is deeply unattractive. The laugh that escapes him is wheezy and hesitant, but there all the same.

“You...y-you’re so...weird, you know that? Instead of doing a real...a real apology, you just even out the playing field instead. A-and as if you have anything to apologise to me for, are you trying to embarrass me?

Kazuichi has never seen Gundham try so hard to bite back a smile, as he quickly counters, “I don’t think you need my help for that.”

With a scoff, “Okay, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Would you like me to rescind my attempt at an apology?”

Wordlessly, unable to muster up the coherency, Kazuichi shakes his head, palming away the strands of hair stuck to his damp, reddened face. He tries not to hiccup in a way that makes him look pathetic, but he reckons the damage there has long been done. With a grumble, he extends his legs, unravelling himself from the knot he’d tied himself into.

“I don’t subscribe myself wholly to honour,” Gundham tells him stoically. “What matters more to me is fighting as fervently as one would do to survive. I would not hold out against a weaker opponent, but it is not in my interest to come down on people who cannot fight back. I had already noticed my mistake before you’d left my cottage.”

“Isn’t that kind of contradictory to, y’know...the laws of the animal kingdom?”

“It is,” is the simple reply. “You see now how difficult this is?”

“Patience is finite, dude. Y’can’t just...hold everything back just ‘cos the person you’re dealin’ with is acting like a nutcase. I-I mean, yeah, you don’t...you shouldn’t be so merciless to someone who can’t hold their own, but...I-I dunno, isn’t there, like, nuance to that?”

“So, you see now,” Gundham repeats, with a burgeoning smile, “how difficult this is?”

A shudder of a laugh racks Kazuichi’s cold, fatigued body. Even after falling asleep, he’s not rested in the slightest. He’s still as tired as before, but now it’s dark out, he’s probably missed his dinner, and his ass is covered in sand. Still, despite everything, that unusual feeling of comfort that comes with lingering pain is prevalent. He’s not sure he’ll ever come to wrap his head around it.

“You...you didn’t have to come out here,” Kazuichi tells him quietly, bouncing his legs to soothe the ache in his knees. “I-I mean, it’s not like—”

“There is another matter,” Gundham cuts in abruptly. Even though there’s a hint of amusement somewhere in his voice, he’s firm when he says, “We’re only even on one matter. You lied twice, or...at least, you attempted to.”

Kazuichi reels back with wide eyes, skittish in the way his fingers scrabble into the sand. He doesn’t remember lying twice. He’d been anticipating the first bit, but where else did he slip up? Somehow, Gundham’s demeanour tells him he’s not got anything to be truly worried about, but it still hikes his nerves. It needles at his distrust. His expression twists with dejection.

Gundham rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You only reap what you sow, but I must say...I’m rather surprised that you’d force Sonia to claim victory in your stead. I wouldn’t consider you proud to a fault, but I am curious as to what your intentions were. Why ask her to lie on your behalf?”

Kazuichi dissolves into a sigh, dropping his hands into his lap and staring out wistfully at what little he can make of the distant ocean, obscured as it is by darkness.

“Oh,” he mutters. “So, I guess...she told you everything then. I-is that...is that why you’re here?”

“She came to me with some concerns, and, frankly, an enormously unbelievable story, which...actually turned out to be true,” Gundham admits.

Kazuichi jolts. “Wait,” he chokes. “Wait, it-- it did? So, I was right?”

“I initially thought it to be an absurd theory, but it turns out that, yes, my Devas of Destruction did have something they’d neglected to tell me,” Gundham confesses with thick displeasure. “I don’t know if Nagito was actually sleepwalking, or if he was up to something sinister, but they were spurred into action by someone attempting to open the door to my cottage.” Gundham pauses to gesture by shaking a clenched hand, and explaining, “I suspect Nagito was trying to use the door handle. In any other case, the Devas would not bother, but it seems they’d taken the act as a threat.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Kazuichi says, a lopsided smile blooming on his face. “Nagito’s cottage is right next to yours. He probably tried the door by mistake thinking it was his room.”

“That seems the most likely reason, yes. Now, if I had actually known about the bite Nagito sustained, I might’ve gotten to the bottom of this much quicker. Instead, their silence led me an array of predicaments that could’ve been avoided altogether. How troublesome...”

Kazuichi just nods, a hum of amusement accompanying the assessment of, “I think they knew if they named Nagito, you would’ve found them out that way. They’re...pretty clever, actually.”

“Hah,” Gundham’s condescension spits, but with no malice. “Is that all it takes to impress you? This is the very thing I’ve been training them for, though...their secrecy was an unintended drawback. Nevertheless, I cannot resign myself to staying angry with them. Perhaps Maga-Z’s impulse control could be worked on, but it is his feisty, unyielding nature that makes him so powerful.”

“Erm...I s’pose that’s as good a reason as any to not get on his bad side,” Kazuichi chuckles sheepishly, concerned about where he falls within the violent little hamster’s view of the world. “S-still, at least you got the answers you were looking for.”

“Ah, yes, to which I am both satisfied and...unsatisfied. For what purpose did you decide to employ Sonia to claim victory over what you had uncovered? And furthermore, why did you think she’d actually do what you asked?”

Oh, right. Back to that. Kazuichi considers this to be a lie on a technicality, but it wasn’t his intention for anyone to really find out about it. More of a lack of truth than an overt lie. Still, Gundham makes a good point. He’s not sure why he didn’t doubt Sonia. Her sense of right and wrong and her efforts to maintain order in the world around her are far stronger than any of his own traits. She clearly had some reservations about his choice. What made him think she’d actually go through with it?

“I...I-I don’t know,” Kazuichi admits shamefully, running his hands over his face, feeling the faint, leftover trace of stickiness from his earlier bout of tears. “I just…”

“You wanted to keep that fact from me,” Gundham states plainly.

Kazuichi nods.

“Why?”

“...I really don’t know. I...I-- okay, I wanted to-- Ibuki gave me this idea that, like, if I could figure out what was going on, and do this thing for you, that I could...I could maybe make things up to you! B-but, then, when it came to actually telling you, I...I couldn’t.”

Gundham squints, incredulity sprouting from the quirks in his expression. He watches Kazuichi’s downcast face, allowing him to speak further.

“It’s not...like I minded if you...if you didn’t, like, if you didn’t want me to help. A-and, I sort of realised that maybe instead of me making things up to you, it...might be more important to you if you got to, like, have that moment with...someone else.”

He pulls his legs back up, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees, and the pervading sense of anxiety tells him there’s something more to it than just that, but he’s unable to figure out what. Instead, he’s left to tap his toes restlessly against the cold, hard sand. Awaiting an answer suspends him in a horrible anticipation.

“You,” Gundham exhales shakily, “are incredibly fixated on the idea of me and Sonia, and I—”

“L-look, I’m not mad about that, that doesn’t matter any more! My reasoning was just...instead of trying to use it to make me look good, I could...I could do something that would actually make you happy.”

At this, Gundham just breaks out into laughter. It’s not his usual boisterous thunder following a deeply fantastical tirade. It’s a spark of sudden, disbelieving mirth that catches in his throat, and tumbles out unceremoniously. Kazuichi doesn’t know what to make of it, and his face becomes stony.

“Y-you are baffling!” Gundham manages to churn out, his widened eyes flitting over Kazuichi’s crumpled form. It’s like he’s looking at some kind of crappy magic trick, or a bad joke. “I do not understand you in the slightest. Are you really saying you went to such lengths, uncovering this ridiculous mystery and then refusing to admit you did so, with the sole intention of making me happy? Of...making something up to me?”

Well, when he says it like that, it just makes Kazuichi sound stupid. Kazuichi isn’t sure what he could’ve expected from this, and he curls in on himself even tighter. He can’t tell if is feelings are hurt by this reaction or not, or if maybe he’d totally misjudged every step he’d decided to take to get himself here, but the humiliation gnaws at him. With a complexion growing paler by the second, Kazuichi peers out over his knees and tries to conceal what may be his tenth bout of tears today.

“I...didn’t know what else to do.”

He’s tired of not knowing anything. He’s exhausted with turning a corner, only to be met with a dead end that’ll likely take days of sitting and stewing in misery in order to reflect properly enough to get anywhere. Is it really too much to ask for to be able to understand himself? To understand anyone else? Always heralded as an intelligent kid, such praise feels wasted when it feels as if he’s springing emotional rat-traps left right and centre, only to escape the minefield and step on a rake. It’s comedy. It’s like a fucking cartoon, and everyone around him gets to laugh about it.

As he buries his head, allowing the comfortable darkness of total aversion cloud his sight, he’s treated to a few sober moments of listening to the gentle lapping of the ocean. Focusing in on the whisper of each wave prevents his tears from falling, keeping him momentarily content, but in no way relaxed. Not when Gundham’s silence is looming over his shoulders.

When Gundham speaks again, his voice sounds much closer than before, and Kazuichi doesn’t dare raise his head. He can hear the urge to sigh, to dissolve into apathy, dancing on his unsteady breath.

“You did something,” Gundham tells him quietly. “Which is...more than what I did.”

Kazuichi wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to say that. He’d been roundly shamed last time they’d spoken, and though it had thrown Kazuichi into complete turmoil, he’d been unable to take a single step without knowing deep inside that every word had been correct. If not hoping to make an apology for being so fickle and human, then an apology for being the person he is.

When Kazuichi can’t find a response, Gundham murmurs, “I don’t like to allude to the things that I think or do because it’s a lot of power to give to someone; more power over me than I’m ever comfortable giving another person. I may not be able to discern everything from my own decisions, but...I feel I’m...deeply unsatisfied by what I said to you.”

Kazuichi’s breath stops, and his knuckles grow white as they cling helplessly to the fabric of his overalls. There’s a thought somewhere in the back of his mind that he wants the pain to grow, but it doesn’t surface properly. It suggests itself, and disappears once more, and Kazuichi, against his own wishes, croaks something that sounds like, “Why?”

Gundham thinks on it for a moment, before plainly replying, “In the moment, I thought it was powerful, but I realised then that it wasn’t...because I think you’ve heard someone say that to you before. That, and...I admit, I said those things not for anyone’s benefit, but to cause you pain. It’s a cheap trick, and...it’s beneath me.”

Now, it’s Kazuichi’s turn to laugh, as he tilts his head and breaks out into a desperate laugh laced with faint sobbing. Though his eyes are cloudy, his smile seems genuine, as he says, “S-so, I guess we are still even. I...I don’t really...think I liked what I said to you either, y’know-- o-or Sonia. I did...I did apologise to her…”

“So I heard.”

“I really didn’t mean to snap, she just kept making me so...nervous. It’s like one minute I’m totally head-over-heels for her, and the next I just...never want to see her again. I have no idea why. I-I mean, I know it’s ‘cos I gotta get over her, but I didn’t think it would...feel like that.”

Gundham’s gaze isn’t quite sympathetic, but it’s lacking in a lot of intensity, and with some surprise he murmurs, “So, you really are abandoning your feelings for her? I see.”

“I’m not-- don’t think that this is, like—”

“No, I believe you.”

Kazuichi swallows. “I really don’t want to get in your way, okay?”

At this, Gundham pulls an unusual face that Kazuichi hasn’t seen before. Something like a mix between uncertainty and an exasperated half-smile. He hesitates for a moment, his voice crackling in his throat, before he says, “Again, you seem to have this idea about the two of us that you’re very fixated upon. I know I told you before I don’t care for people deciding what’s good for me, but I don’t understand why—”

“Dude, are you stupid?” Kazuichi sits up properly, wiping a trail of snot from beneath his nose as he sputters, “I’m not just sayin’ to spite myself or to decide for you. I’m sayin’ it ‘cos it looks like the most obvious thing in the world. Everyone can see it! You clearly make Sonia super happy, and...she obviously makes you happy, too. A-and, don’t try to lie about that ‘cos I can tell! I know what it’s like to get happy about her! I’d know more than anyone!”

Gundham sags a little, not quite ready for the return of Kazuichi’s overwhelming and earnest nature, but this time he’s not short on patience. There’s something so genuine about what Kazuichi is saying, the way he’s saying it, that Gundham realises he’s speaking as truthfully as he can. Somewhat irritated by this display of purity, he rests his chin on his hand and considers his response.

“I never thought I’d see the day where I’d actually tell you this,” Gundham mutters thickly, “but you’re entirely wrong. Yes, I find her company agreeable, and it seems as if she enjoys mine, but we are not...like that. We aren’t like that, and we never will be.”

For some reason, Kazuichi feels a sting of sadness. It feels a little bleak to hear such firm words, such a concrete decision made over a woman he still thinks, despite his fading affections, is perfect. It’s actually a little annoying. What right does Gundham have to give up on a girl like her? Unless he has his own very specific reasons. As Gundham opens his mouth to continue, Kazuichi thoughtlessly cuts in.

“Oh, are you, like, gay?”

“Wh-? That wasn’t what I was going to say!” Gundham snaps, his eyes wild and indignant. Watching Kazuichi recoil with a flash of insincere guilt, he tetchily adds, “And, don’t just ask people that so suddenly, what’s wrong with you?”

“S-sorry, sorry, I just...hahah, I thought—”

Gundham silences him with a glare, and Kazuichi trails into an awkward mumble before turning silent and giving Gundham a gesture to coax him into carrying on. This is met with a most exaggerated roll of the eyes and a less-than-pleased huff, but he complies anyway.

“You’re an idiot, and Sonia and I would not work as a couple because our lifestyles are incompatible. That’s all there is to it,” Gundham says curtly. “It’s hardly a matter for your speculation.”

Unconvinced, Kazuichi tilts his head, his eyebrows hiking up over his forehead. “Y’really think so? But, doesn’t Sonia like animals? A-and, the two of you both like all that occult stuff. Plus, she’s a total Japanophile, so there’s that going for you…”

Gundham begins to chew the inside of his cheek in thought, but judging by the lonely look in his eye, his answer has been on his lips for a while. He steels his expression, hoping to stifle the defeat that so desperately wants to appear on his face.

“You obviously take her side into consideration, but...you’re not seeing it from my point of view here,” he says quietly. “Just because it works well for Sonia does not mean it works well for me. Are you forgetting what she is? She is a princess, and with that life comes a lot of work, a lot of change, and rarely any compromise.”

“A-ah, I...see.”

“Her role in her society is not one she can cast aside with any ease, and she has more responsibilities than you could conceive of. A lot of my work involves travelling, as does hers, and two people constantly travelling separately from one another other does not provide the most solid foundation for an intimate relationship. That’s not to mention the amount of public attention she gets. That is something I want absolutely no part of, which is simply not possible when you’re involved with a princess.”

“I-I didn’t think of that,” Kazuichi admits with a grin. “I guess those are pretty valid reasons for it not working out, but...it seems like you really considered the possibility.”

“You’re a fool unlike any other,” Gundham hisses, hiding his distinctly reddened cheeks behind a ripple of his scarf. “I considered it for her sake, not mine, I’ll have you know.” The way he turns to stare out at the expanse of ocean around them seems suspiciously petulant, but it doesn’t elicit the kind of mockery that Kazuichi would normally feel so inclined towards. For whatever reason, it renders the atmosphere sombre.

“Y’know,” Kazuichi begins, “When I was talkin’ to Sonia, she...told me something pretty cool. She told me she never liked occult stuff as a kid, hated it even, and she spent so long denying that it was something she wanted just ‘cos she thought it was a thing she’d never be allowed to do. Like...she talked herself further and further away from it, which made it really hard to admit what it was she actually wanted. I-isn’t that kinda cool? Bein’ a princess doesn’t sound easy, but...when you hear stuff like that, it kinda makes you feel...i-it kinda makes you feel like you can do whatever you want!”

There’s a small twitch of surprise, followed by a low admission of, “I don’t...think she ever told me anything of the sort.”

If this had been a week ago, Kazuichi would’ve revelled in the idea that he’d had a unique, secret interaction with Sonia that Gundham hadn’t, but there’s no way that conversation would’ve happened between the princess and the kind of guy Kazuichi was back then. Such sudden change in such a short amount of time would serve to make him despairing and overwhelmed, but Kazuichi holds onto the suspicion that Sonia had told him those things for a reason.

The thought comes strongly to mind when he observes Gundham too. Though he applies himself so ferociously to his personality, to the character he’s created for himself, Kazuichi always gets this glimmer of hesitation from him. An apprehension towards things that aren’t fitting for a dark being. In a weird way, it’s almost as if he boxes himself into the same situation as Sonia- ascribing to a regality and all the arbitrary rules that come with. He seems more than comfortable swanning off on his own, but isn’t that where the problem lies? Would breaking away from familiarity be something he’d want to do?

Kazuichi suddenly gets a faint wave of nausea bubbling up through his stomach, and he pushes himself up onto his feet. Vertigo hits him for a moment, the dizziness visible in swirls and patterns before his eyes, and he rubs at them roughly to expel the feeling. A shuffling of sand and chiming of jewellery indicates Gundham doing the same.

“It might be too late for you to get food from the hotel, but...I won’t relent on your visit to the healer,” Gundham informs him. “She should still be on-call for Nagito, but I’m certain she’ll have a few minutes for you-- and this time, don’t run off and lie about it! I’m not your damn babysitter, and this is the last time I’ll chase after you.”

The last part of that hits Kazuichi a little weird, and he breaks into an apologetic but bashful grin, still marred by the discomfort running through his body. When he thinks about it, Gundham kind of went out of his way to find him here, and he’d like to feel appropriately guilty for it, but he’s too giddy. Is this the outcome he’d wanted? To be even with one another, even after fearing what he might describe as a happy ending, but something still feels amiss. Unable to utilise his mind, his mouth starts to move without thought.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Kazuichi murmurs, flexing his fingers, and wondering why they suddenly feel so numb. “I wasn’t tryin’ to make a load of trouble for you, a-and I really wasn’t expectin’ you to come get me.”

“Cease your apologies. I don’t need you to grovel, I need you to actually do what I tell you to.”

“Okay, okay, I gotcha. It’s...mm. I don’t...I didn’t-- I’m not really…”

“Would you spit it out already? What is it you’re babbling about now?”

“I think Ibuki was right, I don’t...really like seeing you...unhappy.”

Unblinking, Gundham stares. He opens his mouth as if about to say something, but no words come out. It’s not the kind of silence that Kazuichi usually fears from a peer, though. It’s somehow warm in its hesitancy, giving Kazuichi the feeling that his words have actually been heard by someone instead of being lost to an empty space.

However, his own words dawn on him a little too late. Rushed by Gundham’s impatience, and weakened by his dizziness, he’d blurted out the first thing that had been on his mind. It’s only half a thought, the other half lost somewhere in the recesses of Kazuichi’s stuttering brain, and as a pink colour begins to wash over his face, he realises he’s going to have to go looking for it. To mitigate his reaction, he takes a deep breath, a hope to give himself some time, but the cold air goes straight to his head.

Whatever stumbling excuse escapes his lips is pure nonsense, a crappy attempt to cobble words together whilst his attention is preoccupied, itching to understand why the edges of his vision are growing dark. The last coherent thought to run through his mind is a ponder as to how he’s able to see the whites of Gundham’s eyes when all he’s looking at is sand, and why the sound of his name feels so pleasant called out into the night.

“K-Kazuichi!”

Chapter Text

“W-what happened?! A-augh, this is-- erm, uh, b-bring him here! Let me take a look at him!”

The sounds of shuffling feet echo across a room with dull acoustics, and Kazuichi’s first thought is how warm everything is. It’s quite comfortable if he ignores the throbbing headache that sends bolts of pain down the back of his skull. An attempt to open his eyes leaves him blinded, the harsh white surroundings searing his bleary eyes.

“He passed out on the beach. He seemed fine, but then he just keeled over.”

“O-oh, he does look rather pale. H-here, right on this bed! L-let me feel for...oh, c-could you pass me that box?”

The warmth he’d been enjoying suddenly disappears, replaced with a cold sensation spreading through his back, and the crinkling of over-starched bedsheets. He groans upon being put down, and he manages to hoist an arm up over his eyes in the hopes of blocking out the intrusive fluorescent lighting. He’s too busy waking up to realise where he’s landed himself.

“He’s coming to.”

“T-that’s good! O-oh, that’s very good-- K-Kazuichi, can...can you hear me?”

That tinny wail of a voice is all too familiar, and between that and the lights, it’s hard to decide what’s more unbearable. Kazuichi manages a pained grunt, processing the idea of being in the hospital. How the hell did he get here? He remembers a little bit before now. He’d not realised it in the moment, but his memory of getting tunnel vision is vivid in his mind. How scary, being able to see darkness creeping in like that. He remembers Gundham’s face too, unusually perturbed by something, and then...nothing.

The thought spurs him to pull his arm down, squinting through the agonising light to burble, “G-Gundham?”

He can’t see worth a damn like this, his eyes not adjusted enough to make out anything but bright white, but a comforting voice replies from about a foot behind him. “You’re awake? Hm. That’s…” Whatever word is said there is too muffled for Kazuichi to hear over the sounds of Mikan bustling around the room. He trusts she’s performing her duties as the Ultimate Nurse, but it’s an unfortunate coincidence that the noises of her working sound a little like someone walking through a mirror maze with a blindfold on.

“K-Kazuichi, l-let me see—” she pauses to yank open one of his eyelids, causing him to yelp. Before he can make an adequate protest, she’s holding his jaw open and sticking something inside his mouth, muttering, “A-and your tongue is-- oh my! O-oh, it’s...I see…”

Assuming the role of Kazuichi’s advocate, Gundham asks, “What is it?”

“W-well, it’s-- it’s very good news! N-nothing fatal, i-it’s nothing to worry about, but he is r-really, really, really d-dehydrated. I-if you want, I could get an IV--”

Gundham cuts off Mikan’s rambling with a dismissive slash of his hand, and Kazuichi begins to openly cringe, knowing full well where this is going. He braces himself for the rightful abuse he’s about to receive. As Gundham provides Mikan with a forceful suggestion of something to drink, her tripping out of the room precedes a horrible, ringing silence that serves to highlight Kazuichi’s idiocy. To spare himself the torture, he emits a knowing hiss through his teeth, hoping it might take the edge off what he’s assuming is a very narrowed pair of eyes bearing down upon him.

“This is a fantastically new low for you. If my suspicions are correct, and I believe they are, then you may be the only mortal I’ve ever met who has actually cried himself to unconsciousness. All your bawling finally caught up to you.”

Kazuichi begins to whine, but it soon tumbles into wheezy laughter. In the confines of a silent room, his chuckling rings so clearly, and when he pulls his arm down to brave the brightness, a lopsided, upside-down view of Gundham treats him to the sight of a small but amused smile.

Sighing, Kazuichi murmurs, “S-sorry...about that. I wasn’t expecting to pass out so suddenly. A-and I don’t cry that much!” It’s a defensive proclamation, but even he knows it’s untrue, and a grin begins to spread over his face as he clocks Gundham’s indignance.

“You must be joking,” Gundham snorts. “You’ve even got that whiny little brat beat, even if she is faking it half the time.”

“Alright, alright, I get it! I’m a total loser who cries all the time,” Kazuichi huffs. His amusement doesn’t fade despite his own harsh, self-deprecating assessment. At this, however, Gundham quirks a brow, his lips pulled to one side with a touch of thoughtfulness.

“Now you’re just twisting my words. I never said that.”

Kazuichi moves to cover his eyes again, and as his world is plunged into darkness once more, he contemplates Gundham’s words. Is that supposed to imply he doesn’t think of him as a loser? Mockingly, he wonders how that could be possible, but before he can ask, Mikan tumbles back into the room with an armful of sports drinks and water bottles. She dumps them unceremoniously onto the bed in the space between Kazuichi’s legs, causing him to prop himself up onto his elbows with a dizzy groan.

“Yeesh, mind where you’re droppin’ those things, Mikan. The situation is enough of a ballache without it being literal, y’know…”

“E-eek! I’m-- I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just...o-ooh, please drink some of these! Y-you need to rehydrate yourself! Try not to drink too fast! H-here, let me—”

Batting her away, Kazuichi snatches a bottle of something orange flavoured from her shaking hands, popping off the cap and taking a long, much-needed swig. The refreshing, sugary liquid is like a hit of molly, and he can’t stop himself from caning a good two-thirds of the entire bottle, much to Mikan’s fuss. Fending her off with one hand and holding the bottle in the other, he manages to shimmy himself upright. A deep breath makes air surrounding him smell faintly of artificial orange, and he seats himself comfortably against the wall.

“M-Mikan, I’m fine, would you stop-- get out of it! I can drink on my own, you know!” Kazuichi snaps. Her help is appreciated, but it’s hard not to seem ungrateful when she’s this invasive. She stumbles back, pale and shivering, unable to muster a sliver of coherency. In a manner debatably described as kind, Gundham lightly taps her on the shoulder before she can dissolve into a puddle of apologetic anxiety.

“Ignore this idiot. He stepped on something sharp the other night, so could you take a look at his foot? For reasons beyond even my cosmic comprehension, he simply refuses to seek your aid.”

Mikan’s eyes bulge, wide enough to see how bloodshot they are around the edges, and her usual brand of crippling concern is replaced by disbelief. Kazuichi is too distracted by the sheen of sweat already forming over her forehead to pay attention to her, as she squeals, “W-what?! K-Kazuichi, that’s-- that’s very serious! If left untreated, it can turn into—”

“I know what it can turn into!” Kazuichi grouses, tuning into the conversation just in time to defend himself. “I did get it treated, and by that idiot no less!” He points an accusatory finger in Gundham’s direction, though Gundham seems largely unfazed. “I-I wasn’t trying to put it off, I just-- agh, whatever! Just do whatever. I don’t care.”

It’s a good enough reason for Mikan, and she begins to fiddle with the shoelaces of Kazuichi’s trainers, tugging them off to search for the afflicted area. Immediately, her brows knit together, accompanied by a flash of stern disappointment. It’s a rare sight to see on such an inoffensive face, so when it disappears as quick as it came, Kazuichi is left blinking, wondering if he’d seen that right.

“W...w-why aren’t you wearing any socks?” Mikan asks, with a lot less of a wobble to her voice than usual.

Kazuichi shrugs. The same reason, he thinks, that he didn’t go to dinner or breakfast, or bother to take a shower, or brush his teeth, or change his underwear, or…

“I dunno,” is all he ends up saying.

“W-well, you...you’ve got sand under your bandages. That’s not-- it’s not very good, s-so I’ll have to give the wound a thorough clean. T-this might...it might hurt a little.”

Well, that would explain why it’s been feeling so itchy and uncomfortable as of late, though it’s a little hard to tell when it’s so dull and consistent. As Kazuichi flops back down with a huff, looking up at the ceiling grants him an unwanted view of Gundham’s darkened features. He stares down at Kazuichi with a glare growing in intensity by the second, stopping only when Kazuichi begins to look appropriately apologetic. From behind the layers of his scarf, Gundham emits an exasperated sigh.

Kazuichi assumes he’ll just throw one of his usual wordy insults out into the open, but the following pause is long. Not necessarily awkward, but long. Kazuichi tries not to flinch when Mikan begins to apply the disinfectant, but the sting is unexpectedly sharp. His teeth clamp down over his bottom lip. His eyes water, glimmering like beads under the harsh overhead lighting, and before Gundham can resume their idle chatter, a faint squeak interrupts him.

“...I’m sorry.”

The room delves into silence after that point. The only sounds to be heard are the atmospheric buzzing of electricity and Mikan quietly mumbling to herself as she applies fresh bandages to Kazuichi’s foot. Kazuichi keeps his eyes shut, feigning relaxation, when in reality he’s simply trying to avoid gauging Gundham’s reaction. As Mikan’s touch becomes more infrequent, the clearing of her throat precedes the completion of her work. He doesn’t know how, but his foot already feels a million times better, and it pushes the pain in the rest of his body out into a more noticeable spotlight.

“T-that should do it, but i-it might help you to-- to get some painkillers from the pharmacy. Come back here in a few days, and I’ll-- I’ll change your dressings again. I-if it starts to hurt or feel erm, sort of-- well, unusual, then...then come find me. P-please.”

Kazuichi gives a sullen nod, his body contorting into an impressive slouch as he sits himself upright. Placing his hands onto his legs causes an involuntarily flinch to run up his arms, stifled poorly by his lagging brain function. He unscrews another bottle of water as Mikan continues.

“I-is there anything else? I know you were on the b-beach, but-- but if you hit your head when you collapsed, then-- oh, y-you’ve also got… I-is that blood on your clothes?”

Without a hint of tact, Kazuichi clamps a hand over the spot on his leg that demands Mikan’s attention, his flat mutter resonating within the plastic bottle as he insists, “No, I’m fine now,” before taking a drink. Mikan’s mouth hangs open, toying with the idea of pushing the issue, but one sharp look from Kazuichi renders her silent. She shuffles back, looking ready to drop everything and flee.

“Look, I’m alright,” Kazuichi sighs, deciding amiability is the best way to go about quelling her concerns. “I don’t think I hit my head or anything. I barely got any sand on my clothes. I don’t think I-- well, I don’t think I was passed out for that long...but if I managed to wake up all the way out here—”

“O-oh, that...might be because Gundham carried you. W-whilst it’s not recommended to ever pick up an unconscious patient like that, it’s...it’s a good thing he s-sprinted here so quickly! S-since you seem to be feeling better already, I don’t-- I don’t think there was much to worry about. I-I’m so glad!”

Despite the rosiness of her cheeks and the slight, uncertain twitching of her smile, her words only serve to darken the atmosphere, and unbeknownst to her, Gundham shoots her the most murderous glare. In a bid to keep himself composed, he clenches his fingers so tight it leaves pale impressions of his rings around his palms. Kazuichi’s quiet observation of them both is...shrewd.

With not much else to say other than a garbled mess of advice, Mikan bumbles out of the room with the first aid kit tucked under her arm, and she politely shuts the door behind her. This leaves Kazuichi and Gundham alone in a kind of room they’d both be keen to get out of. It’s not like he has to stay here, he’s not an overnight patient, but Kazuichi wisely decides to allow the echoes of his headache to subside before he makes any moves.

He stares down hard at the bottle in his hands, resting comfortably in the space between his legs, kicking idly to satisfy his urge to fidget. Holding his breath, he anticipates Gundham’s departure, but the guy doesn’t move a muscle. The longer time goes on, the more awkward it’ll become to just suddenly walk out the door, so...what gives?

Gundham may have done him a huge favour yet again, but that doesn’t dissuade Kazuichi’s usual cheekiness. As he dares to glance up at the only other soul occupying this deathly quiet space, he cracks a smile far more sly than is sensible.

“You...sprinted?”

“Why is there blood on your clothes?”

Fair play. Kazuichi hangs his head, feeling that it’s a respectable exchange of blows. He won’t push any further if Gundham won’t, regardless of whether he wishes to find out more, but the thing about Gundham is that he always, always does exactly what he wants. He’s beautifully obstructive, and in such a way that Kazuichi doesn’t get that familiar tingle of anxiety when Gundham pointedly kneels down in front of him. His eyeline level with Kazuichi’s abdomen, he looks up at the pale mess of his face, growing in fond despondence. For, Kazuichi, wondering where the hell this guy gets off is somewhat calming. As he takes a sip of his drink, he doesn’t bother to hide from Gundham’s eyes what he’d hidden from Mikan’s.

“You’re still injured,” Gundham says slowly.

Kazuichi says nothing.

“And...if you haven’t bothered to pay attention to your foot, then I imagine...you’ve not bothered to take care of anything else.” Gundham’s eyes skim over where the small beads of splotchy brown fan out in thin lines, some darker than others. He tries not to stare like there’s something wrong with what he’s seeing, but there’s not much point in reeling anything back. Kazuichi wouldn’t expect tact from a guy who says exactly what he thinks, so he finds himself surprised time and time again.

“You don’t have to do that,” Kazuichi tells him quietly. “I thought you were done babysitting me. Not that I needed you to do that to begin with…”

“Avoiding Mikan, I can understand, but are you going to let me help you?”

“I don’t understand why you would—”

“Just answer my question.”

“No.”

Gundham sits back on his heels, a wave of something crossing his face. It’s hard for Kazuichi to tell. It’s not abject exasperation, he’s steeled himself with a bit more patience than that, but it’s something like...resignation. Reluctance. Perhaps disappointment? When Gundham really tries to black out what shows on his face, it makes talking to him ten times harder. Seeing that little breaching through his expression fills Kazuichi with guilt, but he won’t relent on this point. Before Gundham can come to his own conclusion, Kazuichi cuts in with the intention of making himself understood.

“I’m not...going to let you for the same reason that...that you won’t show me your arm.”

He’s not trying to dish it out as some punishment, but he thinks he’s within his rights to adopt that same stance. It’s a lot of trust to place in someone to not just tend to an injury, but to a part of your soul. Stepping on a screw is one thing, allowing the neglected facets of himself go unfed to the point of destruction is something else entirely. In Kazuichi’s mind, an accidental mess is endearing, but a mess made on purpose is just ugly.

To his surprise, Gundham’s voice is laced with dull satisfaction as he plainly replies, “If that’s your decision, then that is reasonable. It’s perhaps not entirely...wise, but,” he pauses for a moment, suddenly looking rather apprehensive, “it is not my place to disagree with you.”

Kazuichi tries to swallow, but finds himself unable to. He wrestles with himself for a moment, the plastic of the bottle crinkling beneath his tight grip, and his weighted exhale mingles smoothly with Gundham’s; the two of them sighing in blissful unison. Is he being cruel to deny something like this? Not just to Gundham, but to himself too? There are parts of himself he’d much rather chop off and bury six feet under, but the wistful concentration he can see in Gundham’s eyes is...alluring. This kind of predicament breeds humiliation, but under the right gaze, it feels like it could be so pleasant.

When Gundham looks up, Kazuichi knows his uncertainty has been caught. He can’t even attempt to hide it, the way his brows form an uncharacteristic little arch, bringing with it a crease of longing. He’s looking for something, but it won’t be found on Gundham’s face no matter how hard he tries. He wants to apologise. He wants to be able to concoct a better excuse than feeble embarrassment and more spite than you can fit in a human psyche. He wants to be able to concoct a better lie to placate himself.

It must read on his face far more than he could’ve anticipated, because Gundham’s expression begins to change. Eyes flitting back and forth, his jaw shifts indecisively, but it takes pulling up the thick layers of his scarf over his nose to let any words come forth. Daring to let a very small, very powerful thought ride the stagnant air in this hospital room, both of them understand that if it isn’t heard, then it simply will not be.

“I...do not wish to...see...you...unhappy...either…”

Kazuichi’s mouth gently, gradually, falls open. His eyes naturally drop to the motionless state of his own thighs, spurred into stillness by the sombre veil that falls upon the room. If he had the capacity to think, he’d wonder if he’d heard that right. Instead, the inside of his head just looks empty and grey, but not the hollow, desolate grey he’s come to know quite intimately. Instead, it holds all the comfort of a peaceful, cloudy day; mildly warm and passive in atmosphere. Thoughtless to such a soothing degree.

It’s curious to be able to make a decision with no real forethought. If asked why, he wouldn’t be able to give an answer, as Kazuichi’s shaking fingers begin to tug at the fabric over his legs with something like frantic impatience. An attempt to send a message where words fail. Finally, he’s able to gulp down the lump in his throat, and doing so allows a breathy gasp to escape him.

It’s a slow but kind endeavour. Unzipping his overalls feels akin to opening his own body in front of Gundham, pulling his shirt down and shuffling the legs of his suit off. He purposely says nothing on the view he blots out by unfocusing his eyes, staring lazily into the middle distance. He wonders if Gundham is doing the same thing, aid administered blindly in a refusal to admit what’s true and right in front of him. This expectation is more of an admission of himself than of Gundham’s moral fibre.

The moment he feels the slightest touch, Kazuichi realises it’s nothing like it was the other night. Before, his foot had ached, the sharp sting dampened into a pulsing throb, but the feeling of being gently held had imbued his wound with a polite warmth. Nothing too intimate, but pleasant enough to pull contentment from him. Here, however, the faintest contact simply blends with the harsh burn, making it difficult to differentiate the two. Gundham could be raking his nails down his leg and he’d be none the wiser.

Prisoner to that silly thought, Kazuichi cracks an eye open to make sure that’s definitely not what Gundham is doing. It’s obvious he isn’t, but Kazuichi isn’t sure that it makes him feel any less uneasy. Watching him work so gently makes him feel awkward and dissatisfied. He has the capability to take care of this for himself, but…

Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? He’s got nothing more to add to it. If he’s allowing this to happen, then it must mean to some degree that he wants it. Even if it’s humiliating, even if it’s shameful, even if it’s selfish.

Or, more appropriately, especially if it’s humiliating, especially if it’s shameful, and especially if it’s selfish.

It occurs very loosely to Kazuichi in that moment that trust isn’t just tolerating exposure. It’s not just having some unspecified amount of faith in another person. He thinks it might not even be a pact of confidentiality, or a lifelong bond that’s forged sacred boundaries. Feeling so skewed under the eyes of another person, his flaws, his frustrations, things he considers to be sins and the lack of knowledge that boils them, all mixed up with no real justification to what is right or wrong. In that moment, Kazuichi wonders if perhaps trust is wanting someone to see every little scar he’s got.

Watching the reflection of his own blood in Gundham’s eyes is something of a perversion. Neatly wrapped up in pristine white dressings, being treated in this manner is as much of a punishment as it is a pleasure, and when Gundham finally pulls away to look up at Kazuichi’s unreadable face, Kazuichi’s breaths become shallow. Each inhale fails to take in enough oxygen, and each exhale longs for just a little something more. Constantly on the border of speaking, his tongue flittering with indecision, Kazuichi can only hope Gundham will be able to reach into him and pull out something worth understanding.

Inching down his thigh, where Gundham’s hand has yet to pull away, Kazuichi snakes his own under the crease of his knee, allowing the side of his little finger to imperceptibly brush against the closest thing it can touch. His eyes can’t help but follow the lines of bandages over Gundham’s knuckles, fading into a dirty cream colour as they wrap around his wrist and disappear beneath his sleeve. Upon contact they both reel back, and something deeply unfamiliar flashes in the atmosphere between them.

Gundham doesn’t look at him right away. Watching him, Kazuichi traces the journey his eyes take. First lingering on his knee, then crossing over his thighs in sharp zigzags, stopping just short of his hips. Slowly ascending. Tentatively. It follows the open, curving line of his zipper until there’s nowhere else left to go but up. A short, sharp jump takes him there.

The pressure collapses when their eyes catch each other, a shy approach to contrast the bold decision to meet firmly in the middle. It’s an unreal kind of collision. Against either vivid imaginations, there’s not very much to see. A pair of eyes is a pair of eyes. It’s nothing they’ve not seen before, yet it’s sickeningly captivating. Their uncertainty is shared, melding together with an attempt to feel out what the other is thinking, and the blossoming realisation of their intentions becomes mutual. With his heart racing like ocean waves in a storm, Kazuichi realises something that he’d not noticed before.

Feebly, he swallows. The opening of his mouth draws a warning look from Gundham, as if he’s somehow wary of what’s going to be said next. A dare to keep going. Reservation does not shine in his eyes, but what does is a tiny speck of something that Kazuichi can’t make out. It burns brightly, as if trying to catch his attention.

Perhaps this is what he’d been missing all this time. Something he’d known wasn’t quite right, yet something that kept passing him by. Hard to grasp. An evasive kind of feeling. The more time he takes to be quite sure, the hotter he feels inside, until his voice crackles from within his throat. The push he’d needed to get a precious thought out into the open.

“Are you…still wearing my contact lens?”

It builds from there. Something palpable, visceral, enough to freeze every muscle he has in place. He can feel the prickling behind his eyes, where his face wants to break in two and sob because something, something wants him to collapse into a heap of fire. When his question is met with a tentative bite of the lip, hidden like a treasure behind a closed mouth flattening into a fractional smile, he realises that contact lens is one stepping stone away from finding something he’s been looking for.

For now, it'll sit in his throat, and until that sensation boils over, he's willing to savour every minute of it.

Chapter Text

The hour is late by the time Kazuichi is ready to leave the hospital, still run-down and dizzy, but content. For reasons entirely unexplained, Gundham had opted to remain with him, idling the time by disposing of empty water bottles and helping pour the sand out of Kazuichi’s shoes. Neither of them say anything significant, their dialogue bare and infrequent, but not lacklustre. Gundham lending a bit more of a helping hand than usual does not pass Kazuichi by, and he wonders if some changing fraction of himself is equally as visible to him. He might not know what the differences are specifically, but he can feel something new thudding away at him from the inside.

However, before they leave, Kazuichi suggests tying up one last loose end. A matter of business that still needs attention, and hesitant as he is eyeing the clock, he makes sure to be as quiet as possible as he peers through a crack in the door of the neighbouring room. A sleepy but smiling face greets the unmissable flash of bright pink hair.

“Oh, Kazuichi? What’re you doing here so late?”

Sheepish despite being greeted warmly, Kazuichi pulls open the door and shuffles in. Gundham follows, the clinking of his jacket echoing in the otherwise silent hospital. This place is pretty creepy at night with nobody but Mikan around, and with a touch of amusement, Kazuichi absent-mindedly wonders if Mikan’s recent string of accidents has anything to do with her proximity to Nagito. These two alone in a building can only be a recipe for disaster.

Nagito looks a little better than he had done days prior, and the way he shuffles to sit upright is some indication of his improving health. He still winces noticeably every time he moves a certain way though, and Kazuichi shoots him a sympathetic but awkward half-smile.

“I, erm...passed out on the beach. I was just getting ready to head back to my cottage, but I thought I should check in before I go. How’re you feeling?”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you,” Nagito says with a smile, though still somehow lacking in any discernable emotion. “And, Gundham’s here, too? Don’t tell me you got injured as well. Hahah, maybe my bad luck is catching.”

Gundham blinks quite placidly in the face of what’s actually a threat, though not intended to be on Nagito’s part. He stiffly begins to drum his fingers against the crook of his elbow, showing no sign of jumping into the conversation. Kazuichi waves off the remark with a small laugh.

“N-nah, he’s just, erm...helping. Mikan, I mean, he’s helping-- look, we actually came here to talk to you about what happened the other day.”

Nagito raises a thin brow, too much knowing on his face for a guy who actually knows nothing at all about what happened. “Is this about the fabled missing door? Hey, did you really manage to figure it out? Good for you, Kazuichi.”

Unintentionally patronising, but that’s fine because it makes Kazuichi feel a lot less guilty for blurting out, “Nagito, it was actually you who did it. Are you aware that you sleepwalk from time to time?”

Nagito’s procession of facial expressions is gradual, and secretly quite entertaining. Complete vacancy morphs into incredulous suspicion, which then ties itself up with a wave of resignation. Embarrassment, almost. Nagito begins to laugh to himself uncertainly, tucking stray, wiry locks of white hair behind his ears. His smile borders on apologetic.

“Suddenly,” he admits, “a lot of things are starting to make sense. Especially waking up to find all that sand in my bed. I take it that’s where that bite on my ankle came from, too? And, the bruise on my side?”

Clearing his throat, Gundham replies, “My Dark Devas of Destruction witnessed your unexpected presence outside my cottage, and I must admit they responded rather...impatiently. Since their attack on you is what led to the predicament in the first place, truly, I must accept that it is largely their fault and not yours, especially considering they...attempted to conceal that fact from me in the first place. I do not condemn their actions, but...I am willing to apologise on their behalf for causing you unnecessary harm.”

Nagito begins to wave insistently, chirping, “Hey, there’s no need. To be honest, I see it as your abilities as an Ultimate working to keep you safe. It’s actually pretty impressive that they went to such lengths. I’m a little jealous. Still, I suppose it’s good to know that I’ve been doing that. I don’t suppose, Kazuichi, that you’d be willing to help me out with a new lock for my door?”

“After all the trouble you’ve put me through, your cottage is gonna be looking like fucking borstal by the time I’m done with it.”

Nagito’s snicker whistles through his teeth, a hiss of acknowledgement that Kazuichi likely isn’t joking. He hangs his head in silence for a moment, a grin playing at his lips as he processes the absurdity of it all. When he finally throws his hands back down into his lap, he says, “I should really apologise to you guys, huh? All this time, I actually didn’t consider the possibility that it was me. Normally, abnormal occurrences like that do tend to...coincide with me being around.”

“Actually, there is one thing about it all that I still don’t get. When you brought the door down, the door still moved from the cottage out onto the pathway. What was that about?”

From next to Kazuichi, Gundham adds, “I’m curious about that as well. I asked the Devas what happened, but that is the part they’re most baffled by. According to them, Nagito took it with him. He supposedly got up and just...carried it away.”

“Oh, you know what it might be,” Nagito perks up, far more cheerful than he really should be considering the circumstances. “I guess it must’ve been that night-- I had this dream, a pretty vivid one at that, where I was trying to, like...escape the island. This island.”

Kazuichi and Gundham share a squint of confusion in a synchronicity that does not escape Nagito’s keen eye. He glosses over it.

“It was pretty wild,” Nagito explains with budding unease. “It was, we were, like...trapped on the island. We were made to play out some sort of death game, kind of like the ones you see in movies. You know, a big group of people get trapped together and have to murder one another, that kind of thing. It struck me as pretty weird because after a while, everyone suddenly disappeared, and I was the only one left. It was...kind of scary, actually.”

“But, what has that got to do with the door moving?”

“Oh, well, at the end of my dream, I tried to sail off the island on a raft. I think...you can kind of guess what happened from there.”

Gundham’s sigh is so deep, it feels as if it’s shaking the entire room. Kazuichi doesn’t want to be so impolite to the guy sitting in a hospital bed, but he can’t stop himself from slapping a hand over his face with the wish that he’d left that question alone. Not just that, but what the hell kind of thing is Nagito dreaming about? Is this some kind of deep-rooted, subconscious wish of his? For the sake of what fragile trust he has in this guy, he’ll leave that thought be.

“I...yeah, okay, I-- we just came here to...to let you know about that,” Kazuichi begins to babble, waving his hands dismissively. “Sorry for dropping by so late.”

“Don’t be. It must feel pretty good to have this whole thing wrapped up. I hope I was able to be of some help to you, Kazuichi.”

Thinking back on his advice, Kazuichi realises it’s been more applicable than Nagito might realise. Or, perhaps he knows perfectly well, and had been anticipating something like that right from the off. Such precognition wouldn’t surprise him from this walking anomaly. Still, he does have to thank him for it. It was a pretty useful thing to share.

“You...you were, man. Of course. Erm. Hope you...feel better soon? You sure are lookin’ a little less beat up now.”

With a flash of his eyes, Nagito smartly replies, “And, so are you.” The following pause hangs in the air for just a few moments, before Nagito adds, “Mikan said I should be good to go in a day or so. I really have a lot to thank her for, huh?”

Through passing concern, Kazuichi nods amicably, and agrees, “I’ll say, but at least you’ve been keepin’ her busy. I s’pose we can let you rest now. Maybe, um...yeah, I’ll see about a stronger lock for your door. Maybe some...some tripwires as well whilst we’re at it.”

“I-I don’t think you need to go that far.”

“For peace of mind, y’know?”

“Whatever you say, Kazuichi,” Nagito laughs nervously, waving them off as Kazuichi and Gundham begin to pace in the direction of the door. “I’ll see you guys around.”

Offering their exhausted goodbyes, Nagito is left to get some sleep, and the pair manage to escape the hospital without tripping over a bustling Mikan. Once out into the cold air, Kazuichi gets a familiar jolt of rising nausea similar to earlier, but it quickly subsides with a few deep breaths. His body is manageable, he’s sure he can lug it back to his cottage at least, but there’s still the muted but consistent fussing of something beneath his skin. It’s all in his head, he knows, but that’s exactly where the problem lies.

The island is gorgeously quiet at this time of night, the tranquillity is unmatched. He’s never experienced anything like it, having grown up in the usual busy backstreets of suburbia. The lack of background noises, the faint rumbling of cars, is little daunting at times, but it’s remarkably invigorating when it’s just the two of them standing out here. All the solitude of being miles and miles away from the rest of the world, but none of the loneliness.

He can’t stop the grin from pulling his lips apart, revealing a shy glint of teeth as he repeats that thought in his mind. His company is unexpected, he can’t really imagine Gundham loitering beside him, but in this moment, he truly isn’t lonely. Not a literal sense of loneliness either. Feeling lonely and being by oneself are two very different things, and right now, he’s experiencing neither.

Stepping out into the dark, where the intrusive illuminations offered by the hospital do not disturb, the grizzle of Gundham’s voice melts into the shivering of the swaying leaves. In this kind of silence, the faintest inflection indicative of a stifled smile shines through.

“What are you smiling about?”

Kazuichi doesn’t look up, but his smile curls inwards, resulting in the gentle scrunch of his nose. He keeps his eyes fixed on the concrete beneath his feet, watching how his body is barely able to cast a shadow in the dim lighting. He mulls over his response, and realises that taking his time feels incredible. Since when did pauses in the conversation feel so...important?

Coy in his tone, Kazuichi whispers, “It’s...it’s hard to explain. It’s, like...mortal stuff, y’know?”

In order to sidestep a protruding slab of pavement, Kazuichi winds up inching closer to Gundham’s side, where they maintain a mutually slow pace past a cluster of trees that blot out the soothing moonlight from above. A scoff is heard, but injected with no derision. No malice.

“Is that so?” Gundham mutters. “Then...try me.”

For some reason, a voice leaps into Kazuichi’s head with all the force of a freight train, carrying with it a delightfully obscene response of ‘I’d love to’. It stops short at the front of his mind, lingering where his attention fails to catch up, and when the idea permeates, his hand shoots up to his chin. Hesitant in slapping a hand over his mouth so blatantly. Too taken aback by a joke that he thinks Ibuki is somehow responsible for despite not being anywhere in the vicinity. The only part of his body he can pay attention to is the heat pulsing at the base of his neck, dripping down into his chest.

Now, just why did he think something like that?

He’s pretty good at making fun of himself, spring-boarding off other people’s remarks to do so. It’s a jovial kind of relationship that can sour very quickly if his mind decides to turn against him, but that always comes with a flood of something awful. That tidal wave of unpleasantness is nowhere to be found here though. It’s just...warm. Hot, even. His body is cold, but he can feel the slick of sweat clinging to his underarms. He feels somewhat outraged by his own suggestion. Outraged by the suggestion, and even more outraged by his own reaction, whether it’s really a joke or not.

“I don’t, erm...oh,” he mumbles, remembering he’s got an answer to give. A real answer. He tries to keep up with the demand of the conversation, slow as it is, but every time he goes to speak, he’s caught in an open-mouthed smile. Disbelief, aided by a sliver of guilt. Guilt for something he can’t pick out. It snags on his nerves, but the result isn’t painful. It’s like a shock of lightning, the intense heat fading into a cold tremble. Not comforting, but thrilling in feeling so unsettled.

Eventually, Kazuichi confesses, “I just...realised how quiet it is out here. No cars or anything.”

“Hm? And here, I thought you favoured that kind of needless background noise,” Gundham hums, a twig snapping beneath his foot as he trudges through a flat patch of overgrowth. “Aren’t the work of engines your very lifeblood?”

Kazuichi’s laugh is a quiet chitter, the notion of Gundham’s idea of him bringing unsteadiness to his heartbeat. It doesn’t take great observational skills to figure that one out, but the fact he noticed is nice. A tiny shred of attention that has Kazuichi buckling at the knees, not just because it’s Gundham, but because it’s somebody. Somebody who just...happens to be Gundham.

“I mean, you’re right, I do feel way more comfortable around them. At first, it was a little hard to get used to, not...not having all that-- I mean, you really notice it when it’s not there! I’ve never really, like, left my town either, so even in the few bits of woodland we had, I could still hear it.”

Gundham’s expression of surprise is practically audible, and he asks with curiosity, “You’ve never ventured beyond your home?”

“Nope,” Kazuichi replies passively, albeit a little sadly. “Never had money to go anywhere. Never had time to either, what with the shop. I didn’t...until coming out here, I didn’t realise how quiet the world could be. Not just that, but the stars!” He punctuates this point by grinding to a halt, pausing to look up at the stream of twinkling lights flowing above them. “Light pollution is a hell of a thing. I had no idea that stars could look like this. It’s...amazing.”

Gundham comes to a steady halt beside him, joining him in observing the thick clouds of blue and purple above, bringing with them sparkles of all shapes and sizes, like a cluster of fish caught in a net. The sky is clearer than one could ever imagine, and so full of colour compared to the usual dark expanse Kazuichi is able to see from his bedroom window.

The silence seems to grow thicker between them as they enjoy the peaceful moment, making Gundham’s voice feel even more powerful when he speaks with a low, hushed tone.

“I was once sought out to aid an effort to proliferate a species of cat native to the areas around Lake Baikal. That was...maybe a few years ago now. That quest took me through parts of Siberia where there is no light pollution at all, and...the sky looked very much like it does here.”

Kazuichi is too distracted to remember his urge to avoid looking at Gundham, and with awe in his voice, he whispers, “You really went that far? All the way out there?”

“I did,” he replies with a small smile, and an equally soft voice. “The silence out there is much different from here though. I’m not sure I could accurately describe it for you, but...well, you felt an incredible sense of isolation despite being surrounded by more life than you could possibly imagine. Miles upon miles of it.”

“That’s...amazing.”

With a confident chuckle, Gundham remarks, “It’s truly no wonder that mortals throughout many ages believed in the existence of gods. A sight like this is truly a work of divinity.”

Kazuichi has to agree. It seems such a shame that a sight like this is a part of the world when he’s forced to live in a place unable to see it. It certainly possesses a godlike quality, and with less knowledge of the curiosities of space, it seems obvious that people would see no other explanation for such a thing than something far beyond their power. Still, there’s something equally fantastical about the idea that everything before their eyes is the work of mere chance. A cosmic roll of the dice.

“D’you believe in stuff like that?” Kazuichi asks, perhaps a little irrelevantly, but satisfying an urge to know all the same. “Like, gods and things, do you...like, do you really believe in it?”

“I don’t need to.”

An answer that silences him, sharp as a crack of a whip, and Kazuichi’s grin begins to bloom once more. Why, a few weeks earlier, he might’ve made fun of such a pompous answer, but something about it enthrals him. There’s a lot he could ask from that response alone, but he thinks the magic might be lost if he presses on it. He takes a moment to observe the slight smirk that passes Gundham’s features, finding it intriguing.

Breaking out into a quiet shudder of mirth, Kazuichi slyly asks, “How did your ma feel? Letting you go off to some foreign continent to work-- mine wouldn’t even hear about it!”

“Well, it’s not foreign to her. Naturally, she had some reservations, but she trusted I would be fine. Despite her clinginess, she does believe in children making their own mistakes. Sometimes...sometimes perhaps a little too flippantly.”

Kazuichi blinks in surprise. “Really? Either she has a lot of faith in you, or she has a lot of faith in the rest of the world.”

At this, Gundham suddenly looks down, and in a hurry to conceal his face, he lets slip a smile that hikes his lip up over his canines. The defeat of admission puts awkward creases around the parts of his face that Kazuichi can just about make out, creating the image of an uncommon expression. Intensity on a face that rarely shows it, or when it does, it’s false bravado.

“Somehow,” he mutters from behind his hand, “I think you might...be right. Her faith in me is frankly unwise. Not that I’d ever let myself fall into the claws of danger, but...even so…”

It’s times like this that Kazuichi realises he’s hearing less and less of the dark overlord dialect he’d grown so used to tolerating. He’s unsure how to form an opinion on that fact, because even thinking about it makes him feel like he’s being swept up in something unstoppable.

With a grin, Kazuichi replies, “I guess that might say more about your ma than about you. Seems like she thinks the world of you, even...even if she does make you eat total crap for dinner.”

“Hahah. One woman’s labour of love is another man’s punishment, it seems.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Kazuichi doubles over with a disbelieving guffaw, declaring, “Man, isn’t that the truth?! Jeez, when you say it like that, it sums up me and mine perfectly. Though, even if that’s the case, I still don’t see why she had to burn my porn stash-- and out in the garden too!”

Gundham shakes his head with disdain, a sigh into his palm turning into an awkward cough. “That’s...mortifying, but I imagine the fault lies with you if she was able to find it in the first place. Mothers are not to be underestimated.”

Kazuichi throws his hands up with an indignant sort of defeat, sighing, “Well, alright, okay, fine, where do you suggest I hide them? Think I should bury them under the patio or something? It’s porn, it’s not a dead body! Oh, but I think a dead body would be a lot easier to explain.”

“That has literally never been a concern of mine, and I don’t understand why you don’t just use the internet like every other mortal living in this century.”

“Hey, I thought you were s’posed to be a Luddite type of family! Like, some step below being Amish or some shit—”

“Where did you get that idea? I have a phone and a computer, you know! I’m not technologically incompetent.”

“Okay, but then you’ve still got your browsing history—”

“I refuse to believe you don’t know how to delete your own search history. I also refuse to believe how, after commenting so gracefully on the beauty of the natural world, you’d immediately start rabbiting on about your perverse habits. The dissonance is astounding.”

Kazuichi begins to shuffle in place, a bashful expression spreading over his slightly reddened face as he clasps his hands behind his back. “I don’t...I didn’t-- I’m not always like that, y’know.”

With a sigh that is so clearly exasperated, yet painted with a faint shade of fondness, Gundham says very quietly, “I...am aware.”

The conversation quickly fades into silence, with not much more left to be said. That’s not to say neither of them want to stop there, but it’s hard to find any loose threads to pick up. Not when Kazuichi feels the breath knocked out of his lungs by such a genuine acknowledgement. He wrings his hands, feeling now that his feet are rooted to the ground, showing no intention of going back to his cottage. What’s worse is that the more he loiters around here, the more obvious that fact will be to Gundham, who also doesn’t seem in a huge hurry to return.

“I’m...I guess I might be a little jealous,” Kazuichi murmurs, in an attempt to reignite the conversation with a point that still grabs his attention. “I guess doing what you do really takes you all over the place, huh? Me, I’ve always been the one who builds the things you travel on, not the one who actually does the travelling.”

With his thumb, Gundham gently begins to twist the ring sitting on his middle finger, causing it to gleam lightly under the moonlight. Watching him is like watching the cogs of a machine all work in tandem, the way he’s so prone to fidgeting through his thought process. He moves so smoothly, yet his posture is so stiff and clunky, and Kazuichi imagines what it would be like to take him apart and put him back together again. That’s probably not a thought he should say aloud, but its presence does stir something within him. Something that feels not quite wrong, but perhaps...forbidden.

“My opportunities to traverse this realm have all been bestowed upon me, whether by suggestion or by active request. They aren’t as frequent as you would imagine, but they were all quite intense. It...it was work, after all.”

“Is it...is it, like, scary? Going off to do stuff like that in some country you’ve never been to before? I mean, I speak English pretty well, so I’d probably be fine, but even still, it’s a little nerve-wracking. O-oh, I guess I know some German too, but that’s just ‘cos of all the car manuals I read…”

Gundham considers the question for a moment, and carefully replies, “Whilst I can imagine where you’re coming from, I have no real need to be afraid. I suppose I’m fortunate enough to be linguistically adept, but my work is not with people. So long as I have the necessary space to do what I wish, there is very little that bothers me.”

“Hm.” Kazuichi clicks his tongue. “I gotta admit, I’m pretty jealous. I worry way too much about fucking up in a place I’m unfamiliar with. I s’pose I could find reason to go abroad, but even on commission, my work is easy to do at home so long as I get sent the parts I need. I guess my world is small enough to fit inside a garage. It’s...not really exciting when you think about it, is it?”

“And, why do you feel it has to be exciting? You have found one small corner in this gargantuan world that you can claim entirely for yourself. That is something countless people long for. Travelling may offer many unique sights, but those sights are fleeting. You can...never really call anything your own.”

“And here, I thought you had world domination planned.”

“I do not covet this realm,” Gundham tells him, cracking a small smile. “Or if I do, it won’t be materially.”

“Not even for the Tanaka Empire?” Though it’s said teasingly, Kazuichi shoots him a soft look to convey some sincerity. Not a lot, but some. Enough to maintain their banter, if that’s what you can call it.

“The Tanaka Empire spans far more than just this world,” Gundham warns, a wolfish smile spreading across his face that matches the way his voice rumbles within his throat like thunder. “The power I seek is far beyond mortal comprehension. It is not simply a matter of being the ultimate, dominant power. That would be far too boring.”

“Could it be that you’re looking...for somewhere to call your own too?”

He expects Gundham to reel back, to bluster his way through a wordy excuse as to why that’s a feeble endeavour, but that doesn’t happen. A smooth, stark contrast to his growling tone, his voice suddenly becomes pale and gentle, as he says, “Well...there could be some truth to that, but belonging doesn’t always come in the form of a physical place. You’ll find it more in the souls you connect with. You may find creatures out in forests or deserts, but those are places to survive, not places to belong. Their strength will always come from the others around them. A place does not inspire much belonging if you’re the only one in it.”

A flash of an empty shop, seeing the barest trickle of customers, and the back of a father who he cares little about working with passes by. Every day, it feels like that place gets smaller and smaller, and no amount of noisy work will fill the place with any life. What kind of Ultimate is the kind of person who can’t even help keep a business going? Though, bitterly, he wonders about seeing it run into the ground. It spurs no intelligence, but a mindless resentment for a house that occasionally struggles with feeling like a home.

“What...what about solitary creatures? The kind that go off on their own, and don’t really have anyone else around them.”

“There are those with their reasons. Often, that is the best way of working things out, but I can’t profess to understand it in great detail.”

“Then what about you? Aren’t you kind of...alone?”

Gundham’s eyes gradually widen, but not out of surprise. His face remains quite flat, his gaze skimming over the vague details of Kazuichi’s face. Kazuichi can’t imagine he’s said something wrong, but he’s perturbed by the intensity he’s feeling.

“You may have misunderstood me. I spoke of kindred souls, not people. I am very rarely alone, even if I am the only one of my kind.”

Of course, that makes sense. Being constantly surrounded by animals, Kazuichi wagers he never feels truly isolated from the world at large, but is that really the same? He’s not learnt well enough to hide the apprehension on his face, because Gundham seems to take pity on his concerns.

“If...it interests you,” Gundham begins, somewhat reservedly, “you might find some intrigue in the history of the Four Dark Devas of Destruction. Their lineage is well-recorded.”

Kazuichi squints for a moment, taken from his thoughts by a very absurd notion, but he’s swiftly led to a conclusion that isn’t totally unbelievable. “Lineage? You mean-- have you been breeding generations of those hamsters?”

“The Four Devas are all direct descendents of the four beasts I started out with some years ago,” Gundham states with a proud smirk. “Though that seems like quite some time ago now, I have a tome dedicated to the progress of every one that has passed through the Tanaka household.”

“That’s actually pretty dedicated of you,” is Kazuichi’s praise, but he can’t quite shake his mind from its unease. “Guess you’re really good at taking care of those little critters. I mean, I s’pose you’d have to be. Ultimate Breeder and all that…”

Quite suddenly, Gundham’s mouth snaps shut, and he recoils behind the makeshift shield of his scarf. Kazuichi’s seen this before, the erratic journey of his eyes, too lost in thought to settle in one place. He’s struck something, but as for what it is, he doesn’t know. It feels familiar. A hesitance. A gap between them that requires a bit of a leap. Snapping back to stoicism curiously doesn’t suit Gundham in Kazuichi’s eyes, and if he’s going to sate the irrepressible burn in his chest, perhaps it might help to be a little selfish.

Daringly, Kazuichi mumbles, “What is it? You can tell me. It’s...it’s okay.”

Gundham watches him with keen eyes, reminiscent of a cat reluctant to get close to a human. In a weird way, it’s like befriending an animal, and Kazuichi wonders if Gundham really finds it so hard to connect with people. With this in his mind, he expects a bit of a fight, but is pleasantly surprised when Gundham swiftly drops his visible opposition.

Folding his arms, his stiff posture dissolves with a sigh, and he mutters, “I suppose since you did so earlier, I can afford to...bare something of myself. Truthfully, it brings me no joy to recollect it, but...those four certainly weren’t the first creatures I kept. Hamsters, if we’re being precise.”

“You had others?” Kazuichi ponders aloud, though thinks in silence about what could be so hard to recall.

“I did. I had...one. To start with, I had one, when I was much, much younger. It came into my life at a point where things were...unpleasant.”

Kazuichi listens intently.

“I’ll omit those details, but...I was rather pleased to have it. However, it didn’t end quite as I would’ve liked it to. Not that I feared its death, but...for that first time, I found it difficult to connect with it. I understood quite well what it needed, but there soon came a point where I couldn’t figure out what to do.”

“About caring for it? I sort of thought things like that came naturally to you.”

“That would be foolish to assume. I may possess greater ability to communicate with animals, but that means very little when there is no trust. Something I...soon discovered. That lesson cut that creatures lifespan far shorter than it had to, to which the fault lies entirely with me.”

Kazuichi can’t pretend to act surprised, even if he really is. Trust, or lack thereof, have driven him into all sorts of corners, though its never occurred to him how deep it could really cut. What must it be like for a lack of trust to drive one to an early grave? To refuse everything, even when it’s handed to you.

“It seems unwise,” Gundham then says with a small tinge of hope to his voice, “but I found the one way to help build up that trust is to make the first move. To trust wholly in the other will help lay a foundation that need not be shaken. Of course, this is...vastly different when it comes to mortals. There’s a lot more to lose in those circumstances. I imagine that’s what held me back the first time.”

Kazuichi breaks out into a humourless, breathy laugh, wiping at a portion of his face he was sure would be covered in tears, but is surprisingly dry. It’s not a habit that inspires much confidence in himself.

“It-- it always seems to come back to that, doesn’t it? Every problem I have, it’s always the same thing. I-I’m sure you’re right about what you’re sayin’, but...I dunno, it feels like it’s just been chipping away bit by bit. I guess it’s a thing that’s easier said that done, huh? Just my luck.”

Gundham takes a silent step towards him, closing the gap between them. The sober, nighttime breeze drifts around them now, instead of through. Kazuichi doesn’t look up, but instead takes in the comforting sight of the motif on Gundham’s shirt. How strange that it’s become so familiar. That picking it out in a crowd would bring him more than just idle, passing recognition. Instead, it would serve to catch his eye, and draw his attention to...well, something he’d likely want to pay attention to.

“For someone who cries so earnestly, who wears his heart on his sleeve like you do, I would’ve never expected you to be so guarded. Once upon a time, I might’ve called you foolish, but you’re far more keen that I’ve given you credit for.”

Kazuichi grows flustered under such a glowing assessment. He’s balanced between the alluring call of misery, and the simmering pool of excitement. He could try and let the two experiences duke it out, waiting patiently to find out which one demands his attention the most, or he could just do what his body is telling him to. He looks up at Gundham with the confidence of knowing full well that it’s his wish, but not bothering to wonder why. Not out of negligence, but out of a sense of preservation. A moment he’d rather keep where it is.

“Well, you wouldn’t be wrong,” Kazuichi tells him quietly. “I mean, I ripped the piss out of you for not talking to the rest of us normally, but what right do I have to do that? I mean, I can pretend to act normal, but...it’s not like I really feel that way. Pot meet kettle, I guess.”

“You know, you might not have realised it, but you did do it. Risk yourself to trust somebody, despite the troubles of the past.” Gundham’s voice is barely a whisper, and Kazuichi can’t help but notice his eyes are so bright and round when he’s not frowning. It suits him in a way he can’t describe. Though he’s staring right at him, Kazuichi feels as if his gaze is passing straight through and into the endless sky above.

Tentatively, shivering all the way down to his fingertips, Kazuichi replies, “So did you.”

Gundham says nothing, but his eyes ask what he means by that. A soft curiosity, not at all stained with his usual stoic scepticism. The thickness of condescension. It’s as steely as ever, but light as feather, carrying none of the weight he carries around during the day. It’s hard not to inspect a sight that feels rare. Surely, the only thing more precious than the experience of a godlike entity within the body of a teenage boy are the rare moments of normalcy he really shows. How Kazuichi is feeling like the abnormal one between the two is beyond him, until he realises that Gundham likely feels the same.

“Why...are you still wearing my contact lens?”

Kazuichi allows his face to do whatever it likes. If he’s going to be so blunt about the question, he’ll have no part in concealing anything else. If he expects truth from trust in Gundham, then he shouldn’t feel so restrictive about doing the same. Though, in his own sordid way, he hopes his face is as interesting to Gundham as Gundham’s is to him. Subconsciously, he winds up mirroring what he’s seeing on the other teens face. A slight rolling of the jaw, causing his bottom lip to stir.

The growing pause is not indicative of indecision on either of their parts. Gundham doesn’t look lost for an answer, but leisurely in his business of giving one. Kazuichi watches the way his eyes run over the features of his face, and he can feel a gentle heat of diffidence growing under his cheekbones. Habitually, his fingers clasp together, nervously picking at the fraying tips of his nails.

It’s only when Gundham finally answers does Kazuichi feel a spark of something he’s sure he’s felt before. Stumbling through a patch of foreign territory, only to wind up in a place he’s already been. The suspicion that grows alongside the trembling of his knuckles, the hairs of his arms standing on end, and more intrusively, the way he can’t seem to take his eyes away from a sight that once repulsed him.

And what truly bothers him, is the fact he’s certain he’s known about it all this time.

“Because I wanted to.”

The only honesty he can offer, when it’s so obvious he has no idea why. A somewhat sheepish, apologetic upturn of the lips suggests it to be so.

“Even after what happened?”

Gundham doesn’t move a muscle, but his eyes flit down to the empty space over Kazuichi’s shoulder. Kazuichi feels a sting of dissatisfaction, wanting selfishly to remain under the spotlight of his attention. Wanting. He’s come to know that wanting often doesn’t come with a reason, even if there is one. It’s tedious work to have to go searching for it, but in this instance, it feels like a journey to be savoured.

“Then, it seems...despite what occurred, I still...had trust in you.”

Somehow, it looks like Gundham can’t really believe what he’s saying, but it settles into kind acceptance. It takes a few moments for Kazuichi to realise his mouth is hanging wide open, and his hands fly over his face with such force it almost hurts.

Even with the thought of him attached to that lens, Gundham would really make the decision to use it. It results in the knowledge that their fiery spark of an argument wasn’t enough to extinguish what value he held in it, and subsequently, the action Kazuichi took to give it to him in the first place. Trusting someone is hard but comes with great reward, and Kazuichi soon realises how little he might’ve been trusted by other people in his life. Not that he was special enough to warrant it, but perhaps these occurrences are far rarer than he’d ever thought.

Which makes this something worth desperately holding on to.

Reflecting in his shining eyes, the starry skies above glitter like a celestial ceiling that makes the universe feel so much smaller. Wondering if this is somehow Gundham’s doing, Kazuichi’s knuckles grow white with his nervous grip. It’s as if he’s physically resisting, stopping just outside the boundary of something phenomenal and enormous, and peering in with juvenile, endearing curiosity. It’s safe to say he’s intelligent enough to realise where he’s going, but it’s hard to tell what part of him is responsible for purposely withholding the destination.

All the while, Kazuichi suspects that this is something he should be afraid of, but not a trace of unease is able to stick when the stirring flame of genuine faith found within Gundham burns it away with the kind of might he’s always alluded to possessing.

Chapter Text

Drawing away from the little pause beneath the trees should’ve resulted in a peaceful stroll back to the hotel, returning to their cottages, and past that, Kazuichi can’t really figure out. Not that there’s anything left to do this late into the night, but he still feels distinctly unfulfilled. Maybe it’s a bit of a boring ending, deciding as he takes his first step that despite his exhaustion, he’d rather continue to potter around the island with appreciated company. However, when he shifts his weight onto the unsteady, punctured heel, he sways and buckles, knowing his wish is a little too much to hope for.

He tries not to crumple so pathetically, emitting a hiss like a wild cat as he clamps a hand firmly around his shin, far from the afflicted area, but close enough to ease the throb. The roots of the nearby trees twisting through the earth puts strain on the muscles in his ankles, shooting up his legs as a firm indication of the stress laid upon his body. He stifles a whine, but really wants to complain out into the open.

“What’s...what did you do?” Gundham tilts his head quizzically, and the feeling of his hand gently brushing the back of Kazuichi’s shoulder sends a jolt up the mechanic’s spine. Kazuichi frantically shakes his head, biting at the inside of his cheek with exasperation

“F...foot. Maybe that was too long of a break,” he grins painfully. Walking through the ache is alright once you get used to it, but when the pressure is taken away, it’s hard to readjust when getting back on your feet. Guess it’s going to be a long, awkward limp back to the cottage. Pain or not, it’s still a better choice than an eerie, empty hospital with a clumsy ghost for a nurse on-call.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you’d done what I asked in the first place,” Gundham scoffs unsympathetically, but his hand doesn’t stray from Kazuichi’s back. It taps tentatively, never settling in one place, but is there all the same. Like a dog, Kazuichi wants to lean into the warmth of it, but he refrains.

“I get it! How long are you gonna hold that over me, dude? You think I’m not dealin’ with the consequences of my own actions?” Kazuichi spits, perhaps a little delighted by the banter, but ultimately stroppy over the fact that consequences seem to be all he’s involved in recently. It’s not like Gundham needs to salt the wound when it’s already akin to a miserable mineral deposit.

Gundham just rolls his eyes, a lacklustre show of patience reserved for all mortals, but it takes Kazuichi by surprise when he kneels down beside him with the posture of a bird ready to take off. When Kazuichi stares blankly at him, Gundham gives him a hasty flick on the knee. His eyes flutter with insistence.

“I’m not down here for fun, you know. You can drag yourself back to the hotel if you like, or...you can get on.”

The vacancy lasts a few more seconds before it sinks into Kazuichi’s brain what Gundham’s offering. He reels back so suddenly that he nearly topples over, but a sudden pang of warmth from within keeps him balanced. Is Gundham really offering to carry him back to his cottage? The heat brushing over his cheeks takes a brief pause to his mechanical mind wondering how cumbersome it’s going to be in that stupid, tight-fitting jacket, but who is he to complain? He could probably make it back to the hotel, it’s not like a sore foot is really gonna kill him, but what might do him in is the regret of not taking up this incredibly rare offer.

He’s started to get used to wanting things without bothering to reason why he would. It’s so not beneficial, but as if that really matters right now. He might not get to extend their walk together, but the sudden change in proximity is a different kind of blessing. With a timid smile hidden behind fingers curled over his face, Kazuichi gives a small nod. Managing to shuffle himself over with minimal pain, he gingerly runs his hands over Gundham’s shoulder, pressing himself closer into the curve of his back until there’s no gap left between them.

He holds his breath, awaiting the moment his stomach lurches with the sudden movement. Feeling himself rocking forward, his head slowly sinks its weight against the crook of Gundham’s neck as his legs are hoisted up away from the ground. It’s hard not to squeeze so tightly. He stays mindful of the grip he has on the person beneath him, if only to make sure he doesn’t choke. Then, as Gundham begins to set off into a steady pace, Kazuichi melts bit by bit into a kind of relaxation that ironically sets every nerve alight.

The moment the faint, nightly breeze begins to caress his cheeks, a vivid memory rears its head of a similar occurrence not too long ago. This kind of pervading warmth he remembers now from the wheelbarrow race, where in a fit of stubborn, competitive drive, Gundham had swept Kazuichi up into his arms and pelted through the sand to a well-deserved victory. The afternoon had been hot, but the wild wind he’d kicked up had felt light and refreshing, highlighting the distinctive heat of human touch even through thick layers.

It takes a few minutes for Kazuichi to pluck up the courage to fully rest his head against Gundham’s shoulder, the bobbing in his step creating a pleasant rhythm that plays with his fatigue. All the while, he’s worrying to himself that he might get a little too comfortable, that Gundham might snap and exert some distance, but that tense moment never comes. Though such a thing would be a devastating result for Kazuichi, he can’t help but savour the moments of ambiguity. The building of thick uncertainty. It paints for him a large difference between his infatuation with Sonia, and his infatuation with Gundham. Where his clinginess had begged the princess for affection, for immediacy, and a relief that would cool his overblown emotional desires, he finds the journey with Gundham to be a long, winding route. More enjoyment found in the anticipation. Less thought on what the future could yield, and more time spent in the present, wondering why this idiot is so compelling, and noting all the details that begin to illustrate a far more detailed picture of a person than the mask of a self-proclaimed god.

And, those details are so much more rewarding for being found than anything he could’ve seen from Sonia. She may be a princess with a few private facets of life, but her duty is to be open and perfect in every way, and perfection is easy to predict. Being beautiful, being talented, being polite, intelligent, interesting, when the role expects sublimity, it’s not much of a surprise to find those are the results. He could easily compare her to a princess in a fairy-tale, and such a thing had once delighted him. However, learning her odd little quirks had created a bizarre hurdle that he just hadn’t the emotional bandwidth to jump. It had scared him away, and made itself a difficult thing to celebrate even from someone who claimed to love her unlike any other. A disruption to a fantasy of flawlessness.

Gundham is different. He thinks he’s predictable. He tries to create a predictability to his lordly actions that will keep people safe in their assumptions of him, and whilst it’s likely he uses that advantage ambitiously for his own benefit, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s too much of a mess to ever maintain perfection. Even as Kazuichi buries his nose into the collar of his jacket, he can smell the slightly lazy intention of covering up the scent of animal feed and hay with a liberal spray of sharp deodorant. The fact it’s not really working is endearing, and the fact he even attempted it in the first place makes Kazuichi grin into the coarse fabric beneath him.

“What are you smiling about?” comes the deep voice from merely a few inches from Kazuichi’s ears. At this range, the rumbling of its resonance strikes Kazuichi’s senses in a peculiar but enthralling way.

“Nothing,” Kazuichi mumbles, peeking upwards to get a glimpse of the smooth, pale plane of the side of Gundham’s face. He can’t discern any expression from where he is, but what does catch his eye is the tinge of purplish skin on his earlobe where a piercing once was. This prompts Kazuichi to ask, “What happened to your other earring?”

“Lost to the aether,” is the simple reply. “No doubt sealed away in darkness by the forces of the universe.”

Well, that could mean just about anything from ‘I lost it on the walk to school’ to ‘I accidentally dropped it down the toilet’, but Kazuichi is content with allowing some mystery to remain. Silly as it is, the view from up here really gives him this sense of giddiness that comes with discovering something exciting. Everything he sees is just normal, albeit in varying degrees, but still nothing truly out of the ordinary. Ironically, normalcy hidden under eccentricity is incredibly compelling, and much more than just being a unique kind of person. What makes Gundham so attractive in this manner is the complete opposite of what he’s actually trying to accomplish with his behaviour. The fact he tries to hide it makes it even sweeter, and that’s not because being normal is better than being unusual. It’s simply that being so mutually mundane in the day-to-day is really quite nice.

“I pierced my ears myself,” Kazuichi states quietly, not looking for any real response. “With a safety pin.”

He’s met with a low, wisp of laughter. “Is that so? That explains why they’re sitting at different heights.”

Kazuichi suddenly lurches up, indignantly crying, “Wait, really?! Is it that noticeable?”

“Only to people who are looking at you closely.”

It’s a tempting offer, but Kazuichi neglects to unravel the thread that would lead him to an answer of whether or not Gundham has been doing just that. Nice as it is, the idea of it just flusters him, and he returns to burying his face into Gundham’s shoulder. For a moment, there’s a ripple through Gundham’s body, as if he’s chuckling.

After a brief pause, as the two begin to cross the bridge back to the first island, Kazuichi asks, “What about you? Where did you get yours done?” He half-expects Gundham’s answer to be the same, given how much effort he puts into his bewildering appearance, but he’s met with some surprise.

“Oh. At home. The arch--…my mother...did them.”

Kazuichi shimmies himself further so his head is resting comfortably beside Gundham’s, as he says, “Huh, really? Is she good at that kind of stuff? Like, a professional?”

“No, nothing like that. She just said there’s no point paying to get it done when she could just do it herself with a sewing needle and some saltwater.”

“Okay, I feel like that’s surpassing Luddite and going into, like, rejecting modern convenience. Why does it sound like your ma is just afraid of technology? Is she a witch?”

Gundham suddenly scoffs, muttering, “Sometimes, I think so. And, no, it’s not as if she’s afraid of technology. She just...isn’t so accustomed-- it’s not her usual way of living. As I said before, she’s incredibly stubborn, but it’s not like I mind living that way. Earthly life is all the same to me.”

Earthly life. It’s a term that gets thrown around by Gundham a lot, but never with any real clarification. Kazuichi can imagine the hurdles of the modern world, caught in its hyperactive evolution, is something of a struggle for someone so stubborn and unconventional, but it does make him wonder. Is there a life that Gundham actually yearns for? Or, is it just a lack of contentment? A sort of alienation. Kazuichi can identify with the dissatisfaction, but it seems as if Gundham knows there’s something better out there.

“Hey,” Kazuichi murmurs, gently running his fingers of the seams of Gundham’s jacket. He drags with it a line of peach-coloured pet hair, partially woven into the tattered fabric. “What’s...what’s life like away from Earth?”

The timbre of Gundham’s footsteps changes as he steps off the bridge, wood turning to sandy concrete. The lights of the hotel are blindingly close, causing Kazuichi’s view to distort through his astigmatism. Ears pricking for an answer, his eyes turn unfocused, taking in the blurring of hazy colours around them. Gundham doesn’t reply with any haste. In fact, he’s so quiet that Kazuichi wonders if he’d heard him at all. Swallowing, he bites his tongue and exerts his patience.

It’s not a question he’s asking in the hopes of receiving a detailed, fantastical reply. In fact, any answer at all would give a massive insight into what it is about life on Earth that Gundham seems to have so much trouble with, but the wind grows a little cold in anticipation of a response. It’s as if the atmosphere itself is able to replicate Gundham’s mood. Something in the air drops, and Kazuichi feels it through the tingling hairs on his arms. As they pass through the hotel gates, arriving at the familiar sight of a cluster of cottages suspended around a decking, Kazuichi finds himself gripping on a little tighter, unhappy to be let go so soon.

Wary of his foot, Gundham is careful when letting him down, kneeling forward awkwardly to allow for safe disembarkation. Kazuichi’s trainers tap lightly against the flooring as he settles onto solid ground, wincing upon contact with his heel. He’s not sure what to say. The panic of saying something wrong, of screwing up what he’s built, begins to creep in as it had done the day before. It’s a slow but steady slide, and he nervously tugs at his rolled-up sleeves. However, when he dares to look up at Gundham, who is poised motionlessly in front of him, such anxiety disappears in a way he’s never felt before. It’s a kind of relief that feels like magic.

Gundham’s eyes flit back and forth, evidently searching Kazuichi’s lost-looking face. Eventually, they settle on a spot just shy of his nose, not quite able to connect with his wide, curious stare.

“Life away from Earth….I don’t remember, but...I know it’s better than here.”

It’s a solemn answer, dripping in isolation and longing. Just when Kazuichi thinks he’s hearing the last of what Gundham has to hide, he’s always surprised by something new. However, as novel and delightful as it is, it strikes Kazuichi as intensely sad. Empathetic when he cares to be, he can feel the sting in his jaw that precedes tears. It tightens the muscles in his face, leaving him clenching his teeth desperately in the hopes of stifling everything.

When he’s so self-assured, it’s hard to remember how lonely he must be when scorned by the world. In order to defend against the people around them, they’d both changed their plumage, fostering a desire to be left alone, but out of necessity, out of survival, not a need to be secluded. Kazuichi still isn’t convinced that the company of animals is truly enough to sate Gundham’s need for companionship, finding it too easy a convenience. If it were so simple, Kazuichi would’ve found his own solution a long time ago.

“Surely, there’s some good things about it,” Kazuichi mumbles shyly, unsure of who he’s trying to persuade here. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s a shite state of things, but...don’t you think that there’s something to it?”

At this, Gundham smiles softly, but with no humour. “You misunderstand me. I’m not saying there is no value in life on this Earth. Far from it, it’s proven to be a rather fascinating place at times. I simply believe that...this is not where I belong.”

Kazuichi looks down at his feet. Chewing his lip, he quietly replies, “I...guess I feel like that too, from time to time. It kind of feels like the world goes on around me.”

Gundham doesn’t respond, but hangs his head in thought. Somehow, though neither notice, their restless shuffling pushes them closer together until only a few inches of space remain between them. Kazuichi begins to fiddle with the zipper of his overalls.

“I mean, there’s probably more to it than just that.”

“This is a temporary life,” Gundham tells him wisely. “In the grand scale of things, time here is but a brief annoyance. When it ends, I’m sure I’ll be able to find something better.” He pauses for a moment, observing Kazuichi’s slight frown, before adding, “And, you might be able to as well.”

Immediately, Kazuichi shakes his head. “I don’t think I could do that. I’m not...I’m not sure that’s something I really want.”

Gundham eyes him with surprise, but not a wild amount. His lips flatten into a hard line, making it difficult to read his reaction with any accuracy. “And, why is that?” he asks. “If you feel as if this world holds nothing for you, wouldn’t you rather find something that does?”

“It’s not that,” Kazuichi sighs. “It’s...I mean, doesn’t it sound tiring? What if I go somewhere else and it’s just the same? I’d just be...hopping from place to place. I don’t think I’d have the energy to keep doing that.”

“Important things are not easily achieved. It might not be a simple path, but don’t you think it’s worth it for your sake?”

“Not really,” Kazuichi grins. “Uprooting myself for new things isn’t really like me. Not when I could just stay here and...fix things up as much as I can. If I went somewhere else, I’d be leaving behind everything I’ve built. I’d...I’d be all on my own again.”

“It depends how much you are willing to sacrifice for your opportunities,” Gundham replies. He sounds somehow unconvinced, but it’s hard to tell by what.

“But, aren’t you the one that said belonging isn’t found in a place, but with other beings?”

Gundham slowly breaks into a wider smile, folding his arms tightly as he shifts his weight forward to lean ever so slightly over Kazuichi. “I did. I believe that is the case in this world, but that is not something that bothers me. Know that the souls I surround myself with have a limited time in this world. A time far shorter than my own. I am accustomed to losing what I’ve worked for.”

“So, then what about me?” Kazuichi suddenly breaks into a stammer to correct himself, babbling, “I-I mean, like...mortal humans. I know you’re not a huge fan, I’m not either, but...I-I’m something that would live about as long as you. Erm, well, if I stop accidentally huffing brake fluid, I probably will. I think…”

He’s met with a wide, unblinking gaze, and he waves his hand to try and rectify his words.

“N-not that I’m...like, I get it, I’m not powerful or anything. I’m just a guy, like--...a-and I know it’s probably dumb of me to not want to try, but...I just—”

A soothing whisper fills the air as Gundham presses a single finger to his chest. Kazuichi gulps.

“Stop,” Gundham tells him, barely audible. “Think of what you want to say. Don’t ramble.”

Kazuichi nods lamely, clusters of incoherent words bubbling within his mouth that his body naturally wants to expel, but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t like the pressure that comes with speaking, and it’s daunting to be observed whilst he racks his brain for an answer. He watches as Gundham pulls his arm away, letting it rest at his side. If Kazuichi were to inch his fingers just a little further forward, he might be able to touch him.

“I’m...I’ve always been good at working on things,” he finally says. “Like, projects...building stuff, things like that, but never really...people. Normally, things get ditched before I ever actually have time to work on them, and the only people I ever did put time into ended up betraying me. It’s...it’s not that I really minded that, either. I don’t mind working through things like that if it means we can still be friends at the end of it, but...I can’t really do that now. I get to a point, and then I just end up drifting away.”

As he speaks, his fingers begin to twitch, wondering if they’ll dare to reach out.

“I guess I shouldn’t complain about not fitting if I’m not willing to try and look for things, but...I...I still like it here. I’m not like you. I don’t think I could just go wherever I want. I couldn’t run away somewhere just ‘cos I didn’t like where I was. I know it sounds defeatist…”

“It isn’t defeatist. It’s just...different,” Gundham tells him with an appreciative nod. “It’s simply the nature of creatures. An approach to problem-solving. Where I am happy to journey to find what I want for myself, you are happier to stay and work until you’re able to make what you desire. If I were to say that was a foolish endeavour, I’d be incredibly wrong.”

With a bashful smile, “D’you think so…?”

“It’s not about what I think. The thing about these methods is that...truthfully, they can bring as much pain as pleasure. You might stay and work hard on something ultimately futile in the same way that I might search for something that cannot be found. Neither of us will know what will work until it does.”

To sit and work tirelessly on something that is fated to break no matter how many hours you keep at it is something familiar to Kazuichi, surrounded constantly by broken machines and tattered relationships. There’s always been an element of hopelessness to his dedication, or at least he thinks so, but perhaps it’s not always such a lost cause. It’s knowing what to work on, isn’t it? Sonia was an enormous project he’d undertaken with the hope for an end result, but despite over a year of his efforts, it culminated in nothing. Well, not nothing. Their talk from earlier is still something that sits in his mind. It might be more accurate to say the outcome was vastly different from what he’d wanted. It’s sunk-cost fallacy on an emotional level, but he doesn’t want to say his time was wasted. He’d actually figured a few things out through it. Giving up on her hurt, but it really had to be done, and knowing that much really takes the edge off.

Now, it’s just a matter of figuring out what to work on next.

“You’re...probably more of a worker than you think you are,” Kazuichi murmurs. “I mean, you make yourself sound non-committed, but it’s not like you’re wasting your time here. You’re just...doing what I do.”

“I have no other choice here, but I work on these things expecting them to be temporary. Transience is more of a factor for me than it is for you. I wait for these things to end so that I may move on.”

“But, that doesn’t mean things have to actually end just because you’re not there any more.”

With a flushed face, Kazuichi stares hard at the darkened portion of decking between his feet. His fingers itch a little, begging to be used, to tinker with something to keep them occupied. As he chews his lip, a curled grin forces its way through his attempts to remain stony.

“It’s...it’s like you said, you might not end up finding what you want. So, if that happens, and you’re...you don’t know where to go, then you could...always come back here. Even if it’s just for a little bit, I’ll...I’ll be here.”

Hesitantly peering upwards, he’s able to make out the inky, backlit face that looks down on him with wide, mellow eyes. They watch him with the same intensity as they had earlier in the hospital. Searching. A glimmer of something large set to bloom. Almost a realisation. Something calls out to Kazuichi, and bizarrely, Kazuichi feels like he can call back. With words dead in his throat, his frazzled brain running on fumes with no hope of returning to anything highly intelligent, he makes use of his resourcefulness. A skill of his gone neglected over the past week.

Trembling, he extends a restless finger to reach out for the closest thing it can find. Merely an inch or so away, the smooth texture of foreign skin feels cool against the side of his knuckle. His held breath burns in his chest awaiting a response; he’d assume rejection, but his confidence grows with every second Gundham doesn’t pull away. Against his fingertip, he feels a sharp sting of cold metal jewellery, slowly followed by a clammy sensation enveloping it.

He can’t help the shuddering breath that forces its way out of his mouth, his body nearly buckling under its own weight. He’s held hands before, with his parents, with little kids from elementary school, so why does it feel so startlingly different? The lack of refusal doesn’t feel real until he realises his hand is moving on its own, reaching out to allow his fingers to be gently woven between Gundham’s.

His hands are freezing, his rings even more so. When their palms touch, Kazuichi can feel a flicker of body heat coming from under Gundham’s sleeve. It makes him wonder if Gundham is cold, or if his own hands are boiling hot. The details are hard to feel through callouses and blisters, but his legs shake under the sensation of Gundham’s thumb softly running over the sensitive skin on the backs of his knuckles.

All Kazuichi can do is stutter, his eyes captivated by Gundham’s face. It’s as if through touch alone he’s able to see through the obscene amounts of eyeliner, and the single contact lens that renders his gaze distant. What he’s able to find is not something he can describe, but it’s something he instinctively understands. An outdated part of his brain twitches with the suggestion of shutting everything down, of refusing, denying what it is he wants, but truthfully, he’s far too intelligent. He’s smart enough to see through himself, and enough to know that lying has never been his strong suit.

What surprises him, however, is how good it feels to deny yourself a common behaviour. Spiting what your body demands, fighting against what’s kept you in line for years, and to find that this sordid, unthinkable thing makes you feel like puking in the most marvellous way. It’s not a morally wrong action, but it provides a sting of betrayal to a past self that you can look upon with fond sympathies as you move into a better future.

With that fiery desire spurring a bout of confidence, a thought as to what the point of throwing everything away could’ve been for if not to earnestly seek what he wants, Kazuichi shuffles forward until the heat pooling from behind Gundham’s shirt is bleeding through his overalls and against his chest.

“You offer yourself as an anchor,” Gundham whispers, a smile budding on every movement of his lips. “A beacon to my wishes?”

“If you like, but if I’m being totally honest with you, I think you’re strong enough to make a place for yourself here.”

“I...have no intention of submitting myself to this realm.”

“Who said anything about submission? Surely, you can have more than one world to yourself.”

Gundham grins. The burst of wild excitement on his face causes his cheekbones to hitch. His grip on Kazuichi’s hand tightens, and close enough for his breath to be felt over Kazuichi’s nose, he says, “An ambition worthy of my empire. Were I to conquer this world, would you be willing to hold it for me?”

Kazuichi mirrors Gundham’s borderline maniacal smile, cheeks hot and red as he cheekily hisses, “Is this your way of promising me the world?”

“Do you underestimate my power? This realm is but a meagre gift, and my promises are not reserved for weak gestures. Not when I could promise you a stretch of the universe yet to be created!”

Noses almost touching, Kazuichi’s disbelievingly wide, open grin has their breaths mingling. His eyes sparkle even in the dark, reflecting the ferocious glare of a zealous creature who looks up him with utter reverence. Gundham’s stance jerks oddly, reminiscent of a stalking predator pouncing upon prey. Kazuichi feels his other hand being taken, his fingers slotting between bandaged digits, and with one uncertain pull, the silence begging this promise to be made with sincerity, Kazuichi is swept into a wave of warmth.

Clinging on, his knees give way, and his open mouth is captured by a cool, chapped pair of lips, and an amateurish but affectionate tongue.

Chapter Text

A foreign breath is held in Kazuichi’s mouth long after he and Gundham part ways for the night. From the point of gently letting go, a vacant kind of wonder shared between them, nothing more was said until the doors of their cottage were shut. Finding it hard to settle on words, they’d shyly kept an eye on each other right up until the moment they’d disappeared from each others sight. Having never felt anything so warm, dripping from his mouth to his stomach, Kazuichi had closed his cottage door, but his hand could not be ripped away from the handle. He’s too fizzy inside. His clothes are drenched in sweat. Somehow, he’s so in tune with the most minute details of the present that he swears he can hear his own organs toiling away within his body.

There’s not a chance in hell he’ll be settling down to sleep right now. After waiting three seconds that feel like three minutes, he reopens the door and skips all the way down to the girls’ cottages, grinding to a nimble halt in front of one door in particular. What follows is incessant knocking with absolutely no regard for anyone within trying to get some rest.

Ibuki answers blearily, hair askew, makeup smudged, and in all her bare-legged, underwear-clad glory. Her squint is so disoriented that it’s like she’s staring right over Kazuichi’s head, and as she reels back to scratch her ass with a truly ladylike grace, she greets him with a lethargic moan.

It’s hard to hear his words with his hands clamped over his mouth, but Kazuichi manages to sputter out, “You knew. You actually knew. This whole time, you...you knew everything.”

“I sure did,” Ibuki grins lazily. “Wait, what did I know?”

“A-about Gundham!”

“Oh, is this about the pube thing? Yeah, Ibuki figured he dyes ‘em—”

“N-no-- what? No! Although...no, no, no, that’s not what I’m talking about! I-I mean the other thing! The...the thing with me.”

Ibuki slumps away from the door, leaving it open as a sort of invitation for Kazuichi to come inside. Bouncing with energy, he hops over the threshold and shuts the door behind him, thrown slightly by the sudden stench of perfume and open packets of crisps. Ibuki shuffles back to her bed and throws herself down onto the mattress, kicking her slippers across the room. One sails narrowly over Kazuichi’s shoulder.

“The thing with you? Oh, wait...hold on, it’s comin’ back to me now.”

“I-Ibuki! I...I kissed him!”

Nothing grants her greater clarity than gossip. She bolts upright, running a hand through her fringe as her expression gradually morphs from disbelief to an enormous beam. Seeing her excitement grow causes Kazuichi’s nerves to spike in the best way, and he hops from foot to foot in a bid to burn off some of the excess energy. His smile is nervous and trembling behind his hands, and he gives Ibuki frantic nod as further confirmation.

“See? Ibuki always knows! I had this pinned from day one! Or...well, more like...year one. Wait, did you kiss him on purpose, or was it like...like one of those romance manga clichés? Did you run into each other holding toast in your mouth? Ooh, or did you accidentally fall on top of him, causing you to sort of...meet in the middle.”

Kazuichi is too giddy to find her rambling annoying, and he just shakes his head, unable to find anything to sate his moving hands. Watching the way Ibuki emulates two people kissing with a sock-puppet-like gesture is making his fingers tingle. “No, it-- it was on purpose! He carried me-- this is after I went to the hospital, and I—”

“W-woah, what the hell happened since I was gone? What’d you go to the hospital for?” Ibuki’s eyes begin to bulge, too wrapped up in interest to really be indignant about being thrown out of the loop. “Ibuki leaves you alone for a few hours and you wind up in A&E?!”

“I-It’s not like that!” Kazuichi begins to wave his hands defensively, knowing very well that it very much was like that. “I...I solved the whole mystery whilst you were gone. I told Sonia everything, and she, well, she told Gundham, and I went off to the beach to cr-- I mean, to think . A-anyway, I fell asleep, and when I woke up he was there, and we talked, and...um, I kinda...passed out.”

“You solved the whole thing without me?! Wait, that’s kind of a good thing! Was Gundham pleased? Wait, why did Sonia tell Gundham? What’d you pass out for? Gah, this is too much! Are you some kind of novel protagonist?!”

Kazuichi begins to pace in circles, avoiding the stray pieces of sheet music and packets of guitar strings as he goes. “I-it’s complicated! I think your plan worked though! We talked it out, and...he actually apologised to me. I mean, it’s not like he even had to do that, I was kind of-- whatever! It worked out-- or at least I think it worked out, and then he carried me home and...and…”

“Then you totally got your smooch on!” Ibuki cheers, clapping ecstatically and bouncing a little on her spot on the bed. “No way, it totally worked! See, I knew it would. You and him just have that vibe, yeah?”

“What...what vibe?”

“Gay.”

“N-no, I don’t! I still like girls, you know!”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with Gundham?”

Kazuichi stops like a deer caught in headlights, before neatly smacking his lips and murmuring, “Okay. Alright, fine. T-that bit isn’t important. What is important is that I...I do not know what to do. Ibuki, what do I do? I kissed him, but now what?!”

Ibuki then proceeds to make an obscene, detailed suggestion, complete with gestures, of what should reasonably follow a kiss between two people who haven’t even established a relationship yet. Of course, to Kazuichi’s pure ears, this is nothing short of scandal, and he’s torn between swiping the very idea out of the air and palming his hands over his bright red face.

“I-I mean before that! Idiot! I mean what should I do about...about us? What do I say?”

Ibuki taps a finger to her chin, pursing her lips in thought for a moment. “Well, do you wanna go out with him? Do you wanna take him on a date? What do you wanna do?”

Kazuichi continues to pace for a little longer, but soon buckles and collapses to his knees in a heap of emotional exertion. With a sullen pout, he whines, “I...I don’t know. I guess I do kinda...like him. I-I didn’t even think about kissing him until it happened! I mean, sure, I thought about him a little. I like talking to him too! It’s...it’s not like I’ve ever felt this way about a guy before! What am I s’posed to do?”

“Same thing you do with a chick.”

“I’ve never done anything with a chick! The only chick I’ve tried anything on is...Sonia, I guess-- b-but look how that turned out!”

“That’s different,” Ibuki scoffs.

“Is it?!”

“Sure! You were totally head-over-heels for the princess the moment you set eyes on her! You got all girl-crazy, and to be honest, it waaasn’t your finest performance. Gundham is completely different. You guys didn’t like each other at first. In fact, you guys...didn’t really like each other up until, like, three days ago. I mean, I know you like to move quick, Kazuichi, but damn!”

“Alright, fine, I get it! It’s not like I fuck on first date, so quit makin’ fun of me!”

“My point is, you guys have like...you guys have had this mega-intense journey! It’s like a romance movie! You got to know each other! You had an up and a down, and...actually, you had quite a lot of downs, but he’s still there. After all the barf, blood and tears, he still kissed back!”

When phrased like that, Kazuichi feels a warmth unfurling in his chest. Surely, every hidden, clenching feeling within him should’ve been found and coaxed out of hiding by now, but it seems there’s still a few more heartstrings to pull. He’s been nothing but his worst self this past week. He’s shown nothing but his ugliest, darkest sides, and Gundham still came to find him. He still held value in him. He still kissed back.

He’s always had reservations about pursuing things like this, fearing an end before it’s even begun. So worried about ruining something good that he’s willing to scrap it before it’s ever had a chance to prove itself. Those concerns have never ceased to be intrusive even when he was in love with Sonia, prompting him to wonder if he ever would’ve taken her up when given the chance.

However, what soothes that anxious thought is the knowledge that he’s ruined it already. He’d sat amongst the broken pieces, sifting through what little he could, and been able to put enough of himself back together to keep going. He’s seen what the boundaries of their relationship looks like, peering over the very edge into a vast and unknowable future. Whilst he truly does not wish to repeat a single moment of that, having seen for himself what it is, there can’t be much more for him to fear. If he crumbles now, will there ever be a way he could settle into intimacy, governed as he is by avoidance?

Even if he can’t think of a concrete answer, his heart can. The memory of the kiss sits on a fervent replay in his mind, and every time it loops, his smile grows until he’s forced to conceal it by pressing his face into his knees. His first kiss had just occurred. The real thing. Granted, it was a little later in life than he’d been hoping, and with a completely different person than he’d been expecting, but if anything, it adds to the perfection. Even with the countless fantasies he’d knocked together in the hopes of predicting what that one moment would be like, the complete left turn gives it a delicious kind of abruptness. A sparkling new dream to explore.

“Man,” Ibuki whistles. “What a song lyric that would be! Hmm….da, da, da~! La, la, la, laaa….”

Through a wide grin, Kazuichi snickers, “You can keep it, then. That one’s on me.”

Ibuki continues to hum a loose melody, tapping away at her mattress to sustain a beat. He’s not entirely sure how blood and barf gets her in the mood for writing love songs, but he’s too manic right now to show any kind of sarcastic disdain. His elation seems to be fuelling her musical flair, but as nice as that is, it doesn’t solve his immediate problem. Is this technically even a problem? Whatever it is, he’s definitely lost and out of his depth.

“Oh! Oh! Oh, oh, oh, oh, Ibuki has got it!”

“Got what?” Kazuichi murmurs, now feeling his sudden spike of energy beginning to fade away. With every burst of excitement he gets, it only adds to his looming backlog of exhaustion. At this rate, he might pass out before he can make it back to his cottage.

“How to solve this whole thing! Okay, Kazuichi gets to solve a mystery, and now it’s Ibuki’s turn!” Ibuki suddenly rockets up from her bed, marching over to grab Kazuichi by the shoulders and pull him upright. She then proceeds to push him in the direction of the door, barking, “Go to bed! Y’gotta get some rest for the big day tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry, Ibuki has totally got this! You two are gonna be the kings of the make-out scene by this time tomorrow!”

Kazuichi would really like to fight back, but he’s honestly curious about what she’s got in mind. In any other scenario, he might be seriously worried, but her recent calls on his car-crash of a love life seem to have been doing him some good. After all the bitterness, he’s kind of happy to have something to look forward to. If not that, then it’s a good enough excuse to get to bed.

“Don’t do anything weird,” he warns her, wobbling out into the cool nighttime air. “I’m...I’m trusting you, Ibuki! Whatever you’re planning, don’t be weird!”

As she pulls the door shut, Ibuki cracks a grin dazzling enough to blind him, chirping, “Sorry, Kazuichi! But if I wanna make this work, then I’m gonna have to get as weird as I can be!”

For once, that doesn’t sound like a threat.

Okay, so it absolutely was a threat.

Naturally, due to how unbearably hectic and tiresome the day before had been, Kazuichi had wound up being one of the final stragglers to make it to breakfast. Waking up an hour late had resulted in him pulling on his filthy clothes from the day before, and sprinting full speed to the hotel restaurant, nearly falling into the swimming pool in the process. The ache in his foot is minimal, his head feels clearer than it has done in days, and this is the first morning in a while that he’s sat down with a real appetite. It’s a rushed start to the morning, but not an unpleasant one.

Hunger puts love at the back of his mind, a new thing he’s come to learn about himself, so when he dashes in to grab himself a bit of breakfast, he bypasses Gundham’s table with the unrivalled force of his one-track stomach. When the quest for food is complete, he finds himself still too shy to openly approach him, so he timidly seeks refuge with Hajime, but not without giving Gundham a polite and gently adoring smile. He doesn’t pause to gauge a response from it either, instead burying his face into his meal with flushed cheeks.

He gets about three mouthfuls into a beautifully fried bit of mackerel before Ibuki, with all the grace of a brick through a window, leaps onto one of the empty tables. He’d expected that weirdness was on the horizon, but in the middle of breakfast? Couldn’t she have waited?

It seems her announcement is far more important than routine sustenance. As all eyes fall on her, brows appropriately raised in suspicion, she throws a hand into the air and begins to yell as if addressing a rowdy concert crowd. The only thing more bewildering than her unexpected speech is the fact she’s wearing what looks like a repurposed, pink nurses uniform, decked out with spikes, shreds and can tabs pinned around the hems.

“Hello~! Gooood morning, everyone~! Ibuki here with a huge, huge, huge announcement! The curriculum of life demands we all learn a little somethin’ about love, so for today, we’re ditching school! That’s right, we’re screwing it up like a crappy homework sheet and banging that mess straight into the trash!”

In that moment, Kazuichi looks understandably distraught.

“Tonight, hosted by yours truly, we’re gonna have a wet ‘n wild, totally wicked night of romance! A huge party to get us all pumped up! You guys have all day today to prepare for it! I wanna see kick-ass outfits! I wanna see some crazy make-up! I wanna see the true, uncensored, unadulterated you! We’re gonna party ‘til we drop! Aaaand, I’ll be performing for you my brand new song, ‘Kiss Me Through the Barf in My Mouth!’. Oh, and this is totally mandatory, by the way!”

This abhorrent declaration hangs in the air for a few seconds after Ibuki is finished screeching, and it’s met with some obvious backlash. Mostly, it’s just mutters and moans about how much of a pain in the ass it sounds, but there are some notably loud protestors.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Fuyuhiko glares, slamming his empty glass down onto the table with the unspoken threat of getting up to fix this noisy problem himself. “What gives you the right to decide what’s mandatory this early in the morning? I ain’t going to your dumbass party, moron! I had plans for today.”

“It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?” Mahiru pipes up, an uneasy frown on her face. “Shouldn’t you have given us a little more time to prepare? I mean, if you’re wanting us to dress up-- which, by the way, you’ve not really told us much about. What are you expecting us to wear?”

“Fear not, everybody!”

The only appearance even less appreciated than Ibuki’s in this moment is Usami’s, and she joins Ibuki on the table in order to address her lovely crowd of students. A party in the theme of love seems very much like her kind of motif, and Kazuichi feels a wave of expectation and understanding overcome him. It doesn’t do very much to quell the brewing exasperation though. Ibuki must have roped Usami into helping her plan this whole thing. The little rabbit begins to wave her sceptre around as if to aid her speech.

“I-Ibuki was, I think, a little, um...raunchy in her description of this party, but it’s one that I’ve completely signed off on! Whilst schoolwork is very important, your youth is, too! It can’t just be all work and no play! You’ve gotta have fun. Live a little! I think having a big, glamorous party to get ready for is a great way to spend your day. Romance is all well and good, but the love for yourself is just as important! Treat yourself once in a while. We’ll have food, drinks and music, it’ll be a terrific time! Hee hee, I think I might get myself dolled up for it, too~!”

It’s actually a pretty rousing speech. Their time on the island has been solely dedicated to improving their talents, but a little party once in a while isn’t a bad idea. Ibuki might have something pretty wild in mind for this unexpected shindig, but how often is it that everyone truly lets their hair down? Kazuichi glances over at Gundham for a moment, figuring him to be the kind of guy that rarely lets loose and yet lives chaotically as himself. He’s unsure whether or not this kind of thing really appeals to him, but he’s offered no answer when Gundham’s face remains staunchly unmoved save for a gentle crease of perplexion between his eyes.

“I see, how exciting!” Sonia titters, clapping her hands together. “It is a party to truly be ourselves at! I am rather used to servants preparing my clothes for me, so I am eager to make my very own outfit! How fun!”

When phrased so earnestly, the rumbling of disagreement begins to subside, mellowing out into a jovial hum. People are starting to consider the idea, though Kazuichi feels it might’ve been better received if Ibuki hadn’t just interrupted breakfast to strong-arm everyone into her shenanigans. Speaking of, this isn’t at all what he’d been anticipating, and he’s starting to fear what she has planned for his immediate future.

“So, I guess the dress code is whatever we want? That sounds pretty interesting!” Mahiru smiles, her fingers already tapping away impatiently at her camera. “I guess this is a pretty good opportunity to wear something I don’t normally get to. C’mon, Hiyoko, don’t pull that face. You know you’re gonna have a good time.”

With a haughty sniff, Hiyoko swallows a dainty mouthful of rice, and turns her nose up. “Way to give us no notice at all, but I guess Ibuki’s parties are alright. If we’re going all out though, I’m gonna bust out my best kimono! Not that I have any intention of getting wild with any of you uggos, but someone’s gotta bring some class to the party!”

“Pfft,” Fuyuhiko scoffs. “Well, I guess it doesn’t sound unbearable. Getting yourself sharp is something I’m pretty good at. Don’t expect me to start dancing, though.”

“It’s a little heavy for someone fresh out of the hospital,” Nagito laughs uncertainly, “but I’m not against it at all. I’m pretty bad at dressing up fancy, so here’s hoping I don’t totally embarrass myself.”

“That’s the spirit, everyone!” Usami cheers. “Let’s use this as an opportunity to have fun! Let’s go all out!”

With a mighty wave of her wand, she hops off the table and begins to babble about making preparations, leaving the room buzzing with chatter of what to do. Kazuichi takes this moment to scarf down the rest of his fish, knowing he’s going to need the energy for it later. As he stops short of choking on a fish bone, Hajime gives him a neat elbow in the ribs.

“You’re looking a little better today,” he says kindly. “I don’t really know what Ibuki has planned, but it sounds like it’s gonna be good. You’re gonna go, right?”

Kazuichi nods, torn between a huff and a grin. His eyes flit to the space over Hajime’s shoulder where he can see Gundham and Sonia chattering away to one another at their table. Even the Devas look to be in good humour, peering out of Gundham’s scarf with great intrigue at the bustle around them. Kazuichi can’t help but wonder what’s being planned on their end of things.

“Yeah, I...I think I have to. Ibuki came up with this idea last night whilst I was at her cottage. I-I mean, I didn’t know she was gonna do this, but...I’m not exactly surprised.”

“People seem to be pretty excited about dressing up for this. I’ve never actually done anything like it before, so honestly, I have no idea what I’m gonna do. All my clothes are pretty plain.” Hajime begins to chuckle nervously, running a hand over the back of his neck with fidgeting fingers. The look he shoots Kazuichi seems to be pleading, and with Ibuki no doubt busy setting up for the big night, Kazuichi figures Hajime might be his companion for the day.

Of course, he could march over right now to Gundham, bid him good morning, maybe get a few ideas of where things stand between them and sort out what their plans are for tonight, but the suspense is far too exhilarating. Wouldn’t it be better to wait and let it all come out in one big reveal? Maybe this is the perfect opportunity to completely stun him through his own means. Surely, that’s the sort of thing Ibuki has in mind. He’s equally curious as to what Sonia plans on wearing too. Maybe letting them go off together for the day is a good move, and in a burst of enlightenment that delights him to no end, he realises he has no issues at all with that being the case. No cloud of misery. No rumbling of discomfort. No sting of jealousy on either parts, though he’s really quite keen to talk to Gundham again. Letting it sit like this feels like torture, but what would he even say?

Maybe in exchange for a few costume ideas, Hajime could help him out a bit.

Chapter Text

As the morning begins to make its steady approach to midday, the sun grows wonderfully warm, not at all too hot. Despite the fact it’s only been the sixteen of them on this island, the place feels so much busier than usual. Everyone running around, working hard, really gives the illusion of an island packed full of people.

“You totally picked the right person, dude,” Kazuichi beams, the pair wandering in the direction of the supermarket. “I’m pretty good when it comes to fashion! Especially party gear.”

“I hope to god that’s true,” Hajime mutters, stifling his scepticism behind a cough. His clothes may be plain, but they’re plain out of a subtle sense of taste and outright apathy. If Kazuichi thinks he can force him into anything luminous, he’s going to have another think coming. “It sounds like some of the girls are actually making their own dresses. I saw Chiaki with a sewing kit earlier.”

“That’s brave of her. What do you think she plans on doing? She’s not a glitz and glamour kind of girl, is she?”

“She’ll wear anything if it’s comfy enough,” Hajime laughs. “She was looking pretty determined about it though. I dunno, maybe all that dexterity that comes from playing video games will make her handy with a needle. Speaking of, you’re not so bad yourself when it comes to sewing, are you?”

Kazuichi grins bashfully, folding his arms comfortably behind his head as he strides with his usual display of laid-back confidence. “Oh, you knew about that? Yeah, well, these things are pretty expensive if you’re buying them for quality,” he explains, tugging at the front of his overalls. “My family has been in the red for a while now, so I spent a lot of time fixing my clothes up instead of buying new ones. I haven’t bought new clothes in years, come to think of it. The only thing I buy now is underwear.”

Hajime has already had the pleasure of being blinded by the heinous colours of Kazuichi’s unfortunate undergarments, the brief flashes of them in the locker room having been enough to induce retinal trauma. He’d always noticed how clean they seemed compared to the rest of his clothes, so it makes sense that they’re just the newer garments. Kazuichi is pretty resourceful when it comes to what he uses day to day, but it seems even he likes to splurge a little on something nice. Hajime remembers seeing the ad campaign released alongside the garish line of underwear, and the price wasn’t quite as low as he’d have liked. Not that he would’ve ever thought about buying them for himself.

“Y’know, I think Gundham does the same thing,” Hajime remarks without much thought. “I catch him sewing his clothes up a lot.”

Kazuichi blinks, trying not to stumble when he blurts out, “Y-you do? He does?”

“Sure. Some evenings, he’ll sit out in the barn at the corral and patch his jeans up. Usami sometimes asks me to go feed the chickens, so that’s when I see him. He must be pretty good, ‘cos I can barely see any marks on his stuff. He works on that jacket of his, too. I guess he’s adding to it bit by bit. I’ve never done anything like that with my clothes, but I think it’s actually pretty cool. Y’know, being able to customise your clothes like that.”

Somehow, it feels almost immoral to be hearing such details about Gundham from a different source. He’s become so used to just asking Gundham outright that everything Hajime says feels like a deadly secret. Still, that’s some common ground he’d been unaware of. It makes total sense. Gundham’s work probably lands him with torn and shredded clothes on a weekly basis, but Kazuichi can’t help but wonder what he’s been doing on this vaguely animal-less island to wind up in that state on the regular.

“I wonder what he’s gonna wear…” Kazuichi mumbles aloud.

“Hm?”

‘N-nothing! So, what...what are you thinking in terms of an outfit? Surely, you can’t be thinking of going all bland like you usually do. Now’s totally the time to give in to your sense of adventure!”

“I really don’t have a sense of adventure when it comes to clothes! They’re...they’re just clothes. I wear them, they prevent me from committing acts of public indecency every day, and that’s just about the long and short of our relationship. Clothes is clothes.”

Kazuichi begins to cackle, watching the way Hajime chuckles through his own explanation. “Okay, okay, I get it, so you’re not a guy big on his threads. That’s okay, we can work with that. I mean, Ibuki wants us to wear something for us, right? What kind of colours are you into?”

“Erm...brown?”

“Dude, no, that’s our school uniform colour. Try again.”

Hajime squints at him, knowing full well he’s never worn the Hope’s Peak school uniform a day in his life. With a meagre shrug, he suggests, “Well, I like green too. Not a bright one. I like it simple, man, what can I say?”

Kazuichi just shrugs, pocketing his hands as they stroll into the supermarket where other students are roaming the aisles in search of a little inspiration. “Maybe simplicity is the best way to go, then. If we keep the clothes simple, maybe you could spruce yourself up with something else. Hey, maybe we could dye your—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what, why not? You’d totally rock a lime green-- ooh, or maybe red! Hah, what if we just dyed your hair bright white? Can you imagine? You’d look like an asshole!”

“Real fucking helpful, dude,” Hajime grunts, giving Kazuichi a playful kick to the back of the knee, causing him to trip over. “Maybe I could find myself a nice watch. That sounds pretty good to me. I’m way more about functionality than looks.”

As they begin to mosey through the aisles packed with racks of clothes, bypassing a hasty Akane who’s clutching something far too small to be any kind of garment in her hands, Kazuichi smiles and says, “Guess you and Chiaki make a pretty good match then. It might be hard to pin down any consistency with you, but I guess your comfort is what you prioritise most. You’d look real snappy with some good shoes, I think.”

“Yeah? That’s not a bad shout. Do you think they’d have any good pairs here, though? I mean, the supermarket has a lot of high-value stuff, but do you think they really have anything good quality that isn’t, like, tactical?”

“It’s a simulation, dude. It’s not like you have to deal with the hassle of importing things, shit just gets programmed into the system. They tried to accommodate for everything, so that’s why they filled this place with so much crap, but y’know, a little secret from me to you, you can actually get Usami to put a request through to the outside world if you ask nicely enough.”

Hajime meets Kazuichi’s sly gaze with a look of genuine surprise, and he asks, “Really? You can do that? I mean, I know the team running the system can watch us in real time and get status reports, but can you get them to...I guess program things in for you specifically? Is that it?”

“Sure is!” Kazuichi grins wickedly. “For better or for worse, I’m pretty involved in a lot of Miu’s projects, and since I helped build the machine that runs this gaff, I get all that insider knowledge. Miu’s pretty strict about abuses of the system, mostly ‘cos she’s a lazy piece of shit, but if you put something through that’s funny enough, she’ll probably do it. Everything else she delegates to Chihiro.”

Hajime has had the misfortune of laying eyes upon Miu exactly one time, and one time was truly all he needed. Chihiro is a much more agreeable sort of person despite how quiet she is. Between the three of them, Hajime can’t imagine a more bizarre team, but he can’t deny how incredible their combined efforts are. It’s like something out of a science-fiction novel. A world far beyond his own.

“I totally forgot you worked on this thing, too,” Hajime says, sifting through a pile of smart-looking shirts. “To be honest, this whole thing is still a dream to me. I know that Nagito is supposedly the lucky student, but getting picked out of the reserve course to join you guys is still something I can’t believe. I don’t exactly have much of a talent to hone, but I’m learning a lot just by being here. It’s amazing.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t chalk that up to luck. You were already pretty friendly with most of us in class, so that probably swayed the decision. I mean, I know they said it was a lottery, but fucking as if. How awkward would it be to have some other twat from the reserve course here who doesn’t know a thing about us? You might not have a concrete talent, but you’re kind of a jack of all trades, y’know? And since we’re all buddies, you’d do way better learning from us than any other guy.”

If you were to ask Hajime how he’d managed to worm his way into the social circle of this class in particular, he wouldn’t have an explanation for it. It was simply something that happened, a result of all the right chances and all the right circumstances. He’d suspect running into Chiaki for the first time would’ve been the slippery slope down into this odd little congregation, and they’d taken to adopting him as an unofficial member of their group, or perhaps the class pet. Either way, whether he can boil it down to luck or not, he’s pretty happy to have found himself here.

Hajime pulls out an even-toned grey button-up shirt, and he spends a moment tugging out the collar to see how it sits. “This is nice,” he comments, holding it up for Kazuichi to see. “If I rolled the sleeves up, I think it’d look pretty good.”

“Not bad! That’d be a pretty good fit on you,” Kazuichi grins, his hand rooting through a selection of brightly-coloured shirts. With a ceremonious flourish, he pulls one out to show Hajime with a snicker of, “Okay, what about this bad boy?”

The shirt is luminous green with lemon yellow pinstripes, and a front pocket dyed a conspicuous, eye-bleeding magenta. It looks like it could set off a Geiger counter. Hajime doesn’t even wince at the sight of it, he just goes slack-jawed in utter disbelief that Kazuichi could ever find it any amount of appealing.

“If you wear that to this party, I’m going to file a report on you through Usami.”

“Wh-what? Why? What for?!”

“Terrorism.”

“T-terrorism?! How the hell is this thing terrorism?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna wait to find out. Put it back.”

“No, but what if—”

“Put the shirt down, Kazuichi, and nobody gets hurt.”

Kazuichi scowls and throws the shirt back on the rack where it sits messily on top of all the neatly aligned clothes. With a pout, he stomps past Hajime, making sure to mouth the word ‘asshole’ at him with great disdain. Hajime just rolls his eyes, satisfied in the knowledge that a few points knocked off of their friendship is an easy price to pay for the fate of his vision.

“Jeez, not everyone wants to dress like a librarian, dude,” Kazuichi moans, continuing his hunt for a shirt that truly speaks to him. “Aren’t we supposed to dress how we want? Even if it sucks balls?”

“So, you admit the shirt is awful.”

“Of course, it is! I have eyes, dumbass! That shirt looks like seven shades of shit, but I like things like that! Wearing things that stand out really pisses people off, and it’s super funny to me. Imagine actually giving a shit about what people wear. It’s a total waste of time.”

At this, Hajime laughs, holding out the leg of a nice, neat pair of trousers from one of the racks to inspect it. “I actually envy you for that one. I’ve never been all that good at standing out. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’ve...always liked the idea of being like that, but I don’t think I could actually do it. I even get a little jealous of Gundham sometimes. He really doesn’t give a crap what people think of him, but he does what he wants anyway. That’s a lot of strength to have. I just blend into the background way too easily…”

“You’ll always stand out to the people who are looking for you.”

Hajime pauses, tilting his head to eye Kazuichi, but he can’t get a glimpse of his face from where he’s standing. What a sober thing to hear from someone so laid-back. He’s in no way out of the loop regarding Kazuichi’s history, but it still brings him some intrigue when it comes out into the open. He waits quietly, deciding that he’s got nothing to respond with at this time.

Kazuichi eventually turns back to him, running his fingers over the thin, scratchy fabric of a bright pink mesh shirt. “To the good and the bad,” he adds sombrely. “I mean, we found you, didn’t we? You might not stick out, but it’s not like you had to.” At this, he looks up with a grin that feels like it had to be reminded to show itself. “And, I could easily spot you in a crowd, dude. It’s like I’ve got a Hajime sixth-sense!”

Hajime thinks on it for a moment, and it sounds as if everyone has vacated the supermarket with sudden urgency. You could hear a pin drop in this ringing silence, so the squeaking of his shoes on the linoleum sounds twice as loud. He carefully drapes the shirt and trousers he’d found over the crook of his elbow, shuffling over to Kazuichi’s end of the rack to pull out a mustard-yellow button-up shirt. Not too bright, exuding an unusual elegance, but flashy enough to irritate the kind of people who feel they’re entitled to an opinion on somebody else’s state of affairs.

“This one I think would work.”

“Y’think so…?”

“It reminds me of you, so...yeah.”

Kazuichi plucks the shirt out from the rack, holding it up with a feeling he can’t quite describe. He has none of the satisfaction of finding it for himself, yet all the contentment of knowing it’s for him. As he eyes the clothes in Hajime’s arms, he emits a hollow but amused laugh.

“Man, you really didn’t need my help at all, did you? You’ve got it all in hand, dude.”

Hajime’s smile is wide, and with a gently sheepish sigh, he replies, “Maybe I’m better at this than I thought, but you’ve given me some pretty good advice. Maybe keeping it simple is a good thing, but it’s not like everything has to be coordinated. I could get a pretty wicked pair of sunglasses to go with, don’t you think?”

The pair dissolve into laughter, their quest for the right outfits taking them through the winding aisles of the supermarket, poking and prodding every scrap of fabric that looks like it could fit the bill. From trying on stupid hats, to laughing at each others ideas of what good fashion is, Kazuichi feels himself starting to understand what Usami might’ve been getting at. The whole process of getting things together like this is a lot of fun to have with a friend, and it somehow helps to build the wonderful anticipation of the oncoming party. Of course, it also stokes another matter that has Kazuichi nervously biting his lip as he approaches Hajime somewhere around the beachwear aisle.

“Hey, Hajime, I, uh...could I get your help on something?”

Having found most of his bits, Hajime is now mostly on the lookout for things that might appeal to Kazuichi, and as he tries to tuck a particularly brazen-looking Hawaiian shirt behind a cluster of swimming shorts, he meets Kazuichi’s query with a placid expression. However, upon seeing the tremble of Kazuichi’s lip, nerves bared on his face, his brightness falters.

Carefully, he replies, “Of course. What do you need?”

Kazuichi’s fingers begin to fuss with the slightly rough fabric of the shirt he’s holding, his eyes dancing over each button, unable to settle on anything with confidence. “Y’see, it’s…well, we’re scrubbing up nice tonight, right? And...there’s someone I want to impress. Could...could you help me figure out what to do?”

Because he doesn’t look up, not even to plead with shining, puppy-dog eyes, Kazuichi doesn’t catch the flash of scepticism that Hajime is unable to stifle. The tinge of slate in his eyes grows rather dull in hearing such a request, but not enough to radiate exasperation. Hajime opens his mouth, mulling it over right up to the point he finally speaks. The sigh that winds its way around his words is loose but fond.

“Kazuichi, I think everyone here knows you too well for you to be able to impress them any more. Of course, I’ll help you, but I don’t think you really need to try so hard.”

Kazuichi squints, looking up at Hajime with pursed lips. “What does that mean?”

“Well, impressing someone, that-- that’s for, like, when you first meet someone. That’s when you’re putting out all the good stuff first so people will take an interest in you. Everyone in class has known you for a year now, I don’t think there’s a lot more you can do that they aren’t already expecting. I-I don’t mean that in a bad way, I mean that more in...more in the way that you should try and enjoy yourself tonight instead of trying to look good.”

Hajime is very kind in his attempt to keep Kazuichi on the easy road, especially considering that in his mind Kazuichi is still very much infatuated with Sonia. He doesn’t really want to involve himself with any grand plans to try and swerve Sonia’s blunt opinion on the matter, but Kazuichi slumps with a distinct huff of frustration. He waves a hand, unable to readily get an explanation out in time.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, dude! I want this night to be good, that’s what Ibuki is doing this for! Okay, maybe impress was the wrong word to use. I don’t...I’m not looking to impress, really, I think I’m just trying to...okay, I wanna look good for someone. I mean, really good. Like, drop dead gorgeous.”

“I figured that much,” Hajime replies uneasily.

“I wanna actually look smart for once! Not turn up looking like I’ve been working all day. I-it’s really important to me, dude. If this night is gonna go well for me, I wanna...I wanna really put my all into it! I’ve spent this entire week looking and acting like a complete dick. I can’t afford to do that tonight.”

Kazuichi finishes his rant with a ferocious pout, glaring down at his feet as if to show disdain for his own presence in this world. It’s an unusual amount of initiative towards something that isn’t mechanical or blonde, so it snags Hajime’s astute attention. Kazuichi’s deflating posture gives the impression of a guy who’s seriously fed-up, but there’s such an alluring glimmer of determination somewhere behind it. One that Hajime considers himself a little bit aligned with.

“I’ll help you however I can,” Hajime eventually tells him, allowing enough gentle exasperation to ring through his tone to keep Kazuichi in line, “but you do remember what I said to you the other day, right? I know it sucks, but trying to force things to—”

“I-it’s not her,” Kazuichi cuts him off quickly, slowly growing a deep shade of scarlet. It’s hard for him to figure out if he’s embarrassed by the unmentioned person in question, or embarrassed that Hajime considers him to be so underdeveloped. “I’m...I’m doing this for someone that...I kissed last night.”

Hajime gapes.

“Okay, so I picked out this fabric-- see, Chiaki showed it to me! Isn’t it lovely?”

A graceful flourish sends a thin sheet of deep blue, starry-looking fabric billowing out over Gundham’s head. Perched on the pristine sofa in Sonia’s cottage, Gundham fondly watches the way Sonia spreads out the material over her bed with a satisfied smile. She gets very energetic when her desire to try something new takes over, and it’s pleasantly evident in the way she bounces on the tips of her toes.

“Very fitting for you, I believe,” he replies jovially. “I suppose you are rather used to dressing like you own every star in the sky.”

“Oh, don’t,” Sonia giggles with a swift flick of her hand. “I simply wear what I’m given, though I must say, this fabric is really quite magical. Though, perhaps I’d like to steer away from replicating the same dresses I wear at home. It would be rather boring, don’t you think?”

“If it is in your interest to make those changes. I believe the siren’s ambition was to have us masquerade in the kind of garments we’d wish for only in our wildest dreams. There is no need to limit yourself.”

“You’re quite right,” Sonia beams, and her voice rolls into a purr, blotted with the foreign inflections of her native tongue. “I shall do my best. I do not wish to follow the expectations of a princess whilst I am here. At least not all the time. Isn’t that the thrill of being here?”

Gundham catches each word with a kind of surface understanding, the language of Novoselic being wedged geographically between a cluster of countries, only one of which he’s familiar enough with through his mother. The passing knowledge, the vaguely shared dialect, gives him a reliable place in Sonia’s most trusted cabinet. He cannot reply to her in the same way, but just his ear alone is enough to bring her a small, homely comfort. The feeling of being listened to.

“If you require my aid, all you need to do is ask,” he says agreeably.

Their relationship is somewhat closer behind closed doors than is suspected, but not quite how people might imagine it to be. Very few people possess the privilege to take up Gundham’s time like this, and Sonia is both a noble personality and a person that shares a lot in common with him. That’s not an unusual thing on its own, certain subcultures and animals being a popular sort of interest in the modern world, but she conducts herself in these pursuits with the kind of temperament that Gundham can’t bring himself to hate.

It really highlights the kind of anomaly that Kazuichi is, comparing him to Sonia. He lacks patience, he lacks civility and he lacks self-respect, and that much is still true even now, but their conversations have been rather enlightening in regards to those flaws. More so than Gundham could’ve ever been anticipating, and being thrown for such a loop had become an unexpected anchor. How had he landed himself in this predicament? It’s not like his initial assessment had ever been wrong, and yet it was so off the mark that he almost feels guilty. Kazuichi’s got no refinement to him. He’s a blistered, uncut diamond, but still a diamond nonetheless. Beyond an unsightly shield lies a sparkling expanse of potential. Something beautiful, and to an unparalleled degree.

The conversation aligns neatly with Gundham’s internal train of thought, and as he sinks his flushed face into his hands, Sonia asks, “What about you? What will you wear tonight? You seem rather like you’ve been wearing exactly what you like this entire time.”

“Then,” he mumbles tepidly, “I’m lucky I don’t have to worry about it.”

Sonia doesn’t look convinced, and frankly, neither does he. He peers at her from over the tips of his fingers, feeling the gentle rustling of soft fur burrowing around his neck. At the risk of revealing the lilac tint of his cheeks, he shifts one hand to gently pet at the largest bulge of fabric under his scarf where Cham-P has yet to fall asleep alongside his comrades.

“This may be rather tricky,” Sonia sighs, planting her hands on her hips and looking down upon the fabric with regal hostility. “Whilst I am adept at needlework, it’s really only for decorative embroidery. I have never sewn real garments such as these, and this is just one piece of fabric. What am I going to do?”

She doesn’t mean it as an elbow in the ribs to him, but her lament makes him smile nonetheless, as he tells her, “I have no problems guiding you, but with the time you have, I would suggest finding a dress to use as a base. Decorate that instead of starting from scratch.”

“A good idea! I will do that, but what about you?”

Gundham tries not to sigh too loudly when he replies, “It is as you say, I wear what I like already. There is no dream of mine to fulfil, and I cannot rid myself entirely of my armour lest my curse wreaks havoc upon me.”

Sonia beams, having understood that to mean ‘I can’t remove my bandages, I need my scarf for the hamsters, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking out my earring’. He’s awfully particular about his presentation, and whilst his comfort is important, Sonia can’t help but wonder if there’s some way for him to branch out past those hurdles.

“I’m sure we can make the necessary arrangements,” she tells him cheerfully. “Though, if you have no dreams to fulfil, then...what do you plan on doing tonight?”

An obscene thought quickly runs through his mind, evident only by the barest twitch of his knuckles. A wandering consideration to the likeliness of hot pink pubic hair. Why is it that tender, innocent romance will have him hiding under the bed-covers, but carnal desires are able to fill his head without the slightest bit of shame? Self-consciousness can be a dastardly thing sometimes. Can the world not just make sense for once?

“That...remains to be seen,” Gundham chokes out. “I suppose I may have some matters to attend to.”

Watching him carefully, Sonia folds up the starry fabric and asks, “Did you end up sorting things out with Kazuichi? I didn’t see you return after dinner.”

And this is exactly what he likes about her. She’s this ungodly force of perfect perception. Her judgement is ridiculous, marred only by the cultural barrier that keeps her a few paces behind everyone else, but it doesn’t quite stop her from being able to see through him. Is she doing it on purpose or accidentally? He’s unsure which option is worse, and taken so aback by her question, he can’t hold it in. He’d held firm all through last night, letting barely a hint of weakness slip out, and now she’s kicking down the floodgates.

He drops his head into his hands, able to feel the warmth of his cheeks seeping into his palms.

“...sort of,” he admits meekly, trailing off into an awkward chuckle. “Though, perhaps...not...the way you would expect.”

He hopes Sonia won’t goad him into explaining because he’s having a hard enough time trying to justify it to himself. It’s been a complete whirlwind of a week, and the broken door seems to be the least bizarre part of it all. He can’t ever say he hated Kazuichi, finding himself indifferent at best to his meagre personality, but how was he to know the mechanic would be hiding so much? Not just secrets of days past, but pain and intelligence, a sense of self rarely revealed to the world at large. Humans are so much more complex than he’d ever wish to admit, and whilst he much prefers things upfront and easy to read, hypocritical as he knows that is, he finds himself a little attracted to the mystery.

In many ways, Gundham is softened by the knowledge that he shares some innermost experiences with at least one person on this island, even if he’ll never speak about such things himself. The fact it happened to be Kazuichi is ridiculous, but there it is. The only other person he’d ever spoken to about his mother is Hajime, and that’s only because he appreciates the fact that Hajime is something like a brick wall. He would’ve expected a little more secrecy on his part, remembering that Hajime was the one to tell Kazuichi in the first place about the issue of his mother’s heinous cooking, but if he’d not let that slip, where would he be now?

For a start, he probably wouldn’t be looking as forward to tonight’s party as he actually is.

He meets Sonia’s wide eyes with a knowing, apologetic look, and her mouth snaps shut like a mousetrap. She’s no fool, and he wasn’t about to make it difficult for her to guess. The less he has to openly speak about it, the better, but he doesn’t mind a few silent implications. He just hopes she’ll keep it hushed.

“G-Gundham, you…? You mean…” she slaps a hand over her mouth, the harsh whispers of her native tongue making the entire thing feel like conspiracy as she hisses, “You and him? What did you do?”

He responds thickly in what he knows from his household, and Sonia’s broad linguistic capabilities gives her no trouble with it. “What do you think? It...sort of just happened.”

“What just happened? Weren’t the two of you fighting? How did you get to that point?”

There’s a tiny sliver of hurt in her eyes that he can’t help but feel responsible for, knowing that her affections for him, whilst not heartbreaking, are fond and hopeful in a way that he cannot reciprocate. He runs a hand over his pale face, feeling as if people are listening in on them, and sits back with a sigh.

“We were fighting, because...it’s complicated. He was...being-- he was trying to be nice. It didn’t work. I got angrier than I should’ve. Before that, it was sort of…hmph. I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

“He was helping you fix your door, wasn’t he?”

“That might’ve had something to do with it…”

“Do...do you like him?”

Gundham doesn’t wince, but his lips flatten into an uneasy line. He can’t say he doesn’t know. He did kiss him, after all. Surely, that’s indicative of something. He’s not even sure where it had come from in the moment. All he’d been able to see were the reflection of stars in Kazuichi’s eyes, and the fervent desire to take him somewhere new had swept over him. Almost bratty in his demands, he’d wanted to claim his lips for himself before anyone could have a chance to. Is that what he’s supposed to be feeling? He’s unsure if love is supposed to feel so selfish.

Sonia looks grey and worried for a moment, but like sunshine peering through clouds, a warm, gentle smile begins to bloom on her face. She drops the fabric onto the table, and leans down to tell Gundham, “So, is this what you’ll be dressing up for? In that case, this is very important. You very much do have a dream to be fulfilled tonight.”

“Rather a bold statement, my queen. Keep on down this road and your soul will be forfeit upon the very moment of your death.”

“True, but I’m sure you’ll take good care of it,” she beams. “And, don’t try to change the subject. This is very much what Ibuki was talking about, wasn’t it? A chance to wholly be yourself, and with no restrictions.”

“I’ve never ascribed to be anything but myself, princess,” he grits out through a wolfish grin, pulling himself out of his seat to stand tall before her. “And, no amount of your meddling will change that. Bat your eyelashes all you like.”

“Princesses don’t need to bat their eyelashes to get what they want,” Sonia replies with a dry smirk, but she can’t hold it for long without it falling into her usual rosy-cheeked sincerity. With Gundham standing there, she begins to inspect him, tugging gently at the front of his jacket and pulling at his sleeves. Straightening him out. Smartening him up. Making keen observations about just what she’s going to do with him, and as her eyes make a long, perilous journey up to his face, she reaches up to pull the obfuscating parts of his scarf down.

“You are...you’re—you are really quite...handsome. You mustn’t hide your face tonight. If I am to make a demand of you, it would be to let him...see you. Properly.”

“I think he’s seen enough of me.”

As if to prove him otherwise, Sonia’s grip on his jacket sleeve drifts down, and her fingers neatly insert themselves within the bandaged palm of his hand. The sharp expression suits her, but he feels somewhat regretful for being the one responsible for it in this instance.

Rolling his eyes, he’s forced to tack on, “I don’t see what good will come of it.”

“What good?” Sonia reels back with surprise. “Why must it only be good? It is not good you are looking for, it is...oh, what is the word? Acceptance, perhaps? If you are to dedicate yourself to a person, you must show them all of you, not just the parts you think are worth looking at. No understanding will come of it otherwise.”

When Gundham continues to look unconvinced, Sonia then says, “Does it not fill you with joy? The idea of revealing something so guarded?”

“And, if it goes wrong?”

“Then it was not meant to be, and you will live with no regrets.”

This draws a sly smile from Gundham, who hikes up a brow and murmurs, “Is this your idea of revenge, your highness?”

Sonia frowns, and she really frowns. Her usual admittance of disdain is often a small, polite crease that knits her thin brows together, and the faint downturn of her lips. Here, aggressively, her forehead wrinkles, and her nostrils flare with a huff of irritation. From just behind her lips, he can see the movement of her biting at the inside of her cheek.

He can’t help his widening smile, and he draws up a hand to gently pull a lock of platinum blonde hair over her forehead. He’s well aware of how insensitive he’s being, but she really does bring him an inexplicable kind of cheer.

“If it is,” he whispers, “it’s devious beyond measure. You should be proud. How often do you think I allow mortal beings to pry into my interests? To boss me around? I do not look forward to the day you find your soulmate. I fear I may find myself in trouble.”

She watches him, brows still furrowed but eyes careful and observant. “These platitudes do not bring me much comfort, you know.”

“Well, they should. You are far too mighty for me, and the world is large.”

“It’s not as large as you think it is.”

At this, he grins, and rather condescendingly. “No, princess, it is far bigger than even you know. The world you occupy is small. Beyond that, lies so much more. You just need to start looking down.”

Her face becomes soft, but still lacks its usual light. With a sigh, she murmurs, “I suppose I am rather foolish in your eyes, aren’t I? My connections to the world are grand, but my scope is...really quite small.”

“And, what about that displeases you? Princess, you have an entire world to explore, and all the means to do so. Don’t be unhappy that you’ve been missing out, be happy that you’re about to see it.” He punctuates his sincerity by gently gripping her shoulders, leaning down a fraction to look properly into her eyes. “Don’t settle for me, who just happened to be passing you by. Go and find what you want for yourself.”

Sonia then dissolves into a half-hearted but genuine chuckle, drawing a hand up to her lips, and the words that are spoken behind it are, “But, how often does a character like you pass one by? Your unearthly magnitude…”

“Such magnitude doesn’t matter very much here on Earth then, does it?”

“Oh, don’t tease me.”

“You were the one teasing me!”

“Yes, but what would you care about that? Now, there’s no need for you to get so serious. I’m not some dainty maiden in need of your attention,” she scolds him, giving him a light slap on the arm. “Honestly, I do hope you don’t look down on Kazuichi in this way.”

With a growl of laughter, he admits, “I think he likes it.”

“How awful. If you don’t start taking this seriously, I might have to snatch him up from you instead!”

“Ohoh! The spiteful approach! I wasn’t expecting that from you, bratty little princess.”

Sonia suddenly bursts into peals of laughter, guffawing, “No, that isn’t like me at all, is it? Of course not, I would never do such a thing, though there is some benefit to keeping you on your toes. A labour of love, isn’t it? A duty of friendship.”

“And, I’m painfully aware of your utter inability to shirk your duties. How irritating. You’ll make a fearsome queen, I’m sure.”

Her smile is sunny, as she says, “Well, every step I take here is practice for the future, isn’t it? If it is my duty to lead people, then here is where I shall start. Though, I do wish you wouldn’t make me out to be some sort of devil. I am trying to help you, you know!”

“And, to any normal person, that would be an incredibly gracious act. I, however, am far from normal…”

“Yes, to you, this is more like a threat,” she laughs. “Hee hee, if my grace is a threat to you here, I can only wonder what kind of havoc Kazuichi might wreak. You are rather remarkable, Gundham. Don’t waste that. Now is the most perfect opportunity for you.”

With a soft sigh of admission, pushing his hands lazily into his pockets, he mutters, “I am well aware, whether I like it or not. I suppose this is something I’ll have to face sooner or later if I am to become the ungovernable, celestial force I am fated to become. Avoiding problems won’t serve me well.”

“An empire is a rather large ambition. I imagine even the darkest of overlords require people by their sides.”

He’d never considered having Kazuichi be any part of his plans for the distant future, but the thought of it is pleasantly absurd. He’s not the greatest hurdle in the world, but he’s certainly tricky. The kind that has Gundham constantly thinking, and he’s starting to figure it might be a good thing. Practice into the taming of humans, far from his interests as that is. Still, he’d wasted all his sincerity on the night before, and if he’s going to venture out into the unpredictable events of tonight, he’d better save some up. No use wasting it on this wonderfully informal conversation between two very close souls.

“Sure,” he smirks. “Maybe...concubines, or something…”

“Ah! I’m going to tell him you said that! You awful, awful—ha ha ha!”

“I-I should hope you don’t!”

Chapter Text

Party time arrives just around the point where the sun is setting past the horizon, sending sprawling, orange beams of light through the thick clusters of darkened trees. On the dusty trail wrapping around the music venue, students begin to gather and travel in packs, tentative in their eager excitement as they inch closer to the doors. It’s a baffling sight from the outside, but the groups of smiley faces imbue the atmosphere with a thrilling kind of acceptance.

Everyone is keen to catch the first glimpses of each others outfits, the opening act to what is looking to be a pretty good time, but unnoticeable to all are the two distinct factions that keep one another at a distance.

The first is Ibuki and Hajime, polar opposites in every way and mutual only in their fretful enthusiasm over Kazuichi who is wedged safely between them. Ibuki has added more spikes and handfuls of sequins to her recycled nurse’s uniform, whilst Hajime has kept cool and slick with low and easy tones, contrasted by an orange-lensed pair of sunglasses perched on his head. Kazuichi looks like a perfect mix of the two, bright in his yellow and pink tones, but ultimately snappy. Over the mustard-coloured shirt is a deep magenta waistcoat with sharp black buttons and silky, black back piece. He’s recognisable at a distance, but perhaps less so up close, his worried frown peering over a pair of unfamiliar, gold-rimmed glasses.

The opposing faction hides out behind the venue, similarly anxious for the events to come. Sonia’s gorgeous, galaxial fabric has been pinned with sparkling glass fasteners to a dress coloured so deeply blue that it looks almost black. It doesn’t pair at all well with the unusual purple belt and blood-red necklace she’s picked out, but she liked the look of them, and that was reason enough for her. Gundham looks comparatively better put together, as Sonia wouldn’t have settled for less, and as they linger out of sight of the others, she continues to make minor, fussy adjustments. She tugs insistently at the sleeves of his blazer, pulls the fabric of his purple tie out straight, and makes sure his hair sits as perfectly as possible, slicked back with only a few suggestive locks hanging loosely around the side of his face.

“It’s fine, stop fussing with it,” Gundham hisses, their foreign dialogue giving their situation an added air of secrecy. It’s the perfect way to speak to one another without being overheard, and Sonia finds the very idea of it delightful. She grins up at him mischievously, but does what he asks.

“My apologies, but you must know, every position of power comes with being fussed over like this. You must get used to it if your vow is to become a ruler. My, the choker certainly was a nice touch, wasn’t it? I thought it might look rather out of place…”

As Gundham shoots her a withered look, he’s entirely unaware of the fact that Kazuichi is doing the very same thing, holed up in the little storage room behind the stage and watching Ibuki with apprehension. Ibuki paces back and forth in preparation for her stage performance, babbling to the room whilst Hajime sits beside Kazuichi and gently rubs his shoulder.

“You got this, dude,” Hajime says, uncertain even through the smile he’s obviously biting back. “You look great. I told you the shirt was a good fit.”

Kazuichi nervously scratches at the shaved portions of the side of his head, somewhat irritated by having his hair half-pinned back. Hajime absent-mindedly slaps his hands away from Ibuki’s hard work as he says to the musician, “Right, Ibuki? If this doesn’t work—”

“If this doesn’t work, Gundham is a bigger dumbass than I thought!” Ibuki huffs, more stirred by pre-performance nerves than Kazuichi’s predicament. Rattling all the tension out of her head with a shake, she adopts a stunning smile and bends over to meet Kazuichi’s eye level. “Kazuichi, you look super, super hot! I seriously had no idea you could scrub up so nice! You’re gonna knock him clean off his feet! Ibuki has never steered you wrong before in love, and I’ll eat that entire stage if your cottage ain’t rockin’ by the end of the night!”

Ibuki emphasises her promise by pointing at the door leading to the stage, hanging ajar and allowing the bustling sounds and scents of Teruteru setting up food outside to waft in. Kazuichi cringes at her words, flapping the very idea away with reddened cheeks.

“I-I told you to hold off on that bit! We’ve not even held hands yet!”

“No, but that didn’t stop you from snogging each other, did it?” Ibuki pauses to tell Hajime rather seriously, “With tongue, as well. Open-mouthed. Gundham really doesn’t hold back.”

As Hajime nods sombrely, Kazuichi explodes into incomprehensible stuttering, squawking, “I-it was one kiss, Ibuki! It’s not like we made out! And, there wasn’t that much tongue, it was...just...a little. I had my mouth open, okay?! I didn’t know he was going to do that!”

“There is such a thing as protesting too much,” Hajime snickers, clapping a firm hand over Kazuichi’s back as he pulls himself to his feet. “I think Teruteru’s almost done with the food, so I’m gonna see if he needs any more help. I think everyone else is here already. I’m pretty sure that’s Hiyoko I can hear screeching outside.”

Kazuichi suddenly clutches onto Hajime’s arm, and with eyes that threaten tears, he pleads, “No, no, don’t leave me by myself! Ibuki’s gotta go on stage, and I can’t do this on my own!”

“You managed to get this far, dude,” Hajime reminds him, a flicker of judgement in his eyes. “I don’t think you’re as incapable of this as you think.”

“I-it’s not that, it’s just...w-what do I say? If we hadn’t kissed last night, this would be so much easier, but we did! Where does that leave me? What am I s’posed to say to someone I kissed, and then avoided all day?”

“I think you’re making things up to be nervous about. You didn’t have to avoid him…”

“I...I thought it would be nicer if I did.”

“It would’ve thrown my plan out the window if you had,” Ibuki pipes up, tapping her foot like an impatient mother. She begins to wag a finger in Kazuichi’s face, telling him, “It’s a good think Ibuki can read you like a book! I even wrote my new song for you! You two are gonna dance to it, right? That’s the end goal, right?”

Kazuichi’s eyes bulge, and so do Hajime’s, both staring at Ibuki with slackened jaws. They both scramble their words together at about the same time.

“W-wh-- wait, hold on, who said we were--?!”

“Woah, wait a second, that song was about them? This entire time?”

Ibuki throws her hands up with exasperation, as if she’s the only intelligent person in the room. “Duh! Of course! This sap breaks my door down in the middle of the night to tell me all about how Gundham Prince Charming’d his ass to the hospital after he passed out, and how it went all smoochy from there! So, of course, Ibuki had to devise a plan to give them the most romantic get-together possible! What’s more romantic than a couples dance to a song written just for you?”

Kazuichi wants to argue that an unexpected couples dance with Gundham is both awkward and troublesome, seeing as most people are still of the idea that the two of them are rivals and not possible boyfriends. He’s not sure he could last two and a half minutes under the eyes of every person in his class, but his protest is stopped by the mental image of it. It...it is kind of romantic, isn’t it? If he could dance with him at a point where nobody is watching, able to enjoy the moment of it than the anxiety of appearances, that might suit him just fine.

Hajime watches his friend stumble over the blissful thought, and he assists his wordlessness by pointing out, “Okay, you could’ve said something to him about it though. Does...does Usami know that’s why you did this?”

“Heeeell no! I don’t want her meddling with my plan and stealing my thunder! Ibuki works alone, but...I did have to rope her into the idea to get her to agree with the organisation. I mean, it’s a lot to sort out on my own, so I was pretty happy to leave her all the complicated stuff to do!”

As if perfectly on cue, the squeaking of a door opening has their collective attention snapping to the small gap occupied by Usami’s fluffy, little head. As she peers into the room, she pushes the door just enough for them to see the pink, frilly mess she’s wearing. Her usual tutu has been replaced with a darker pink dress made of mesh fabric, frilled in thick layers at the hems. Perched upon her head is a silvery crown that crinkles suspiciously like tinfoil, glued with little plastic gems. It’s hard to hate the getup when she looks so elated with it.

“Ibuki! Teruteru has finished setting everything up, and it seems like everyone is outside! Are you ready to start the party?” she squeaks, positively trembling with excitement.

Ibuki holds her hands curtly behind her back, as if hiding physical evidence to the fact they’d just been talking about her. “I sure am! Let’s go start this party, miss teacher! The boys have gotta finish powdering their noses or whatever, so let’s leave them to it.” With that firm dismissal, Ibuki goads Usami out of the door like an unruly toddler, pulling the door to and allowing the boys a few more minutes of preparation before the big night begins.

“Oh, man…” Kazuichi whines, dropping his head into his hands. “What if I fuck this up?”

Hajime gently puts a hand on his shoulder, and when he leans down to speak softly into Kazuichi’s ear, he murmurs, “From the sounds of it, you have, and it’s done nothing but work in your favour. Now, go out there and fuck it up some more.”

Kazuichi grins into his fingers, nerves urging him to bite them to soothe the buzzing beneath his skin, and conversely, he, too, has no idea that Gundham is feeling the very same way, watching Sonia through his uncertainty as she tells him that even if this does turn out to be a mistake, it’s very much a mistake worth making, for both him and Kazuichi.

Teen parties usually start out a little awkwardly, but everyone had decidedly to go so unapologetically ridiculous with their approach that it tears all tension out of the air. The stoic Chiaki takes the first steps into the venue and begins the party at her own leisurely pace, allowing everyone to follow behind in varying levels of excitement. Her lack of self-consciousness paves the way for an impeccable start, and as she stands by the table of food, munching away on a steamed custard bun, and wearing a glittering black dress with paper cutouts of Tetris pieces safety-pinned to the skirt, she surveys the hubbub with a satisfied smile.

“You didn’t waste any time, did you?” Nagito comments, cat-like in his sudden appearance by her side. He leans over to get a look at what she’s eating, and with a placid smile he adds, “I’m impressed! You really weren’t afraid to go the handmade route for your dress tonight. Couldn’t go without the hoodie though, could you?”

Chiaki munches nonchalantly, making Nagito wait for her to finish before she mutters, “It’s a different hoodie. Look, I put Space Invaders on the back.” She turns around to allow Nagito to inspect the shoddily embroidered pixel art woven into the soft fabric. As she finishes the last mouthful of her bun, she shrinks cosily into her comfortable choice of clothes and says, “You weren’t kidding about not being good at this. Not that I’m much better.”

Nagito just laughs, doubling over with a newfound burst of energy after his lengthy stint in the hospital. He’s certainly tried, but as to how hard, that’s anyone’s guess. Skinny jeans and loafers don’t stand out terribly as a dream image of one’s self, but he’s managed to forgo his own hoodie in favour of a cream-coloured shirt, the collar of which pokes messily out of a large, olive, woollen jumper. Chiaki decides that it doesn’t matter how smart Nagito really dresses when it’s constantly offset by the fact his limbs are so long it gives him a perpetual look of not knowing what to do with himself.

“I thought I’d play it safe,” he smiles. “If I indulge myself too much, who knows what will happen? I’m not trying to invoke my bad luck on such a nice night.”

“You can control it to that extent?”

“Nope, but it would be rude not to try.”

“I’ll say,” a harsh voice interrupts, and a small shadow is cast over Nagito where Fuyuhiko steps through the beaming lights coming from the stage. Backlit by a vibrant but invasive blend of pinks, blues and yellows, he squints up at Nagito and huffs, “Watch you don’t burn the place down, yeah? Mikan’s about eighty-five percent hairspray right now, and we can’t lose our only medic.”

Peko appears in the gap over his shoulder, hair pinned neatly into a bun, and offers the group a polite smile. The pair of them are not only looking sharper than a tack, but despite wearing contrasting colours, their outfits match perfectly. Peko looks shockingly demure in a white halterneck shirt and bottoms, the silken fabric and sparkling adornments flashing wildly under the buzzing lights of the venue. Fuyuhiko hasn’t ventured far past the colour black, but the gold button-up shirt and embroidered tie brings a royal feel to the otherwise flat arrangement. Even the soles of his shoes are aureate. How’d he manage that?

“We’re five minutes in and she hasn’t tripped over already, so that’s a win for us,” Nagito chuckles, peering through the darkened room to find the poor soul made to nurse him for the past few days. Mikan is tottering by the bar, trying to pick out a cocktail without Teruteru breathing down her neck. For someone so polite and self-conscious, her dress is alarmingly brave. It’s more like a few pieces of neon string draped strategically over her body, stretched to full capacity by the rippling bulges around her hips and thighs. How she hasn’t toppled over yet is made even more of a mystery by the hot pink, death-defying stilettos she’s got on her trembling feet. Nagito can’t hide the wild surprise on his face, which is caught immediately by Fuyuhiko.

“Yeah, bet you weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“W-well, I’m not exactly...ignorant of her bids for attention, but it’s not like it’s doing any harm. A-at least, not to anyone else,” he adds on fearfully, wondering how much of her circulation is being cut off by such a tight, skimpy dress. He barely even wants to call it a dress. It’s more like a hair tie.

“If you think that’s bad, you should take a look at Akane,” Peko suggests with a dry lick of humour to her thin smile. She gestures further down the table to where Akane has set up her base of operations, and is embarking on an extraordinary culinary quest with Byakuya. Byakuya is looking as smart as ever. Not much has really changed with him, his unusual talent being something of a redundant force in moments of self-indulgence. Akane, on the other hand, has to be the first bout of craziness Nagito has seen all night. He’s not sure if the leopard-print garbage she has stretched forcefully across her chest is meant to be a garment – or if so, he’s unsure if it’s a garment meant to be worn on the top half – but what occupies the bottom half is a loose-fitting, studded pair of jeans that keeps riding down her hips. It doesn’t clash horribly, but it sure does stand out, especially considering she’s barefoot.

“She said it was strategic,” Peko informs him dutifully. “She said her usual uniform is too tight when it comes to...overeating, I suppose. I must respect her diligence in following the dress code. She certainly did consider it.”

Nagito eyes the way her hair has been tied up into a sort of topknot, accompanied by bright red hair-clips, and he mumbles, “Her hair is nice,” as if it could make any real bearing on the conversation.

“That’s Nekomaru’s work. He said he was tired of her getting sauce in it all the time. We could hear them fighting from the other side of the hotel,” Fuyuhiko sighs. “He was yelling so loud, it was starting to remind me of my dad.”

“I thought this party was meant to be relaxing,” Nagito jokes, smiling but unmistakably perturbed. As the conversation continues around him, Fuyuhiko’s gruff nattering and Chiaki’s slow diction fading into the background music, he catches a glimpse of Hajime from across the other side of the room, and begins to wonder what he’s up to.

It’s not that Hajime looks suspicious, but he does look purposely inconspicuous in the way he’s tucked himself behind the far bit of the bar, huddling beside a pale, sweating Kazuichi. Kazuichi has managed to get his hands on a drink that looks like toxic waste, glowing green and pink in a smart Martini glass. He swills around the drink stirrer, the faint tang of citrus fruits hitting his nostrils, wondering if his reflection looks as miserable in real life as it does upon the surface of his drink.

“Stop sulking, dude, the night hasn’t even started yet,” Hajime scolds, nudging him playfully. “I think I saw Sonia and Gundham by the door. I don’t suppose you’re just gonna go up to them, are you?”

“I’m getting to it!” Kazuichi snaps, his spike in temper dissolving into a bashful bite of the lip. His face is so flushed it’s almost matching the colour of his hair. Impressive as it is, Hajime just rolls his eyes, slumping against the bar with his own drink cooling the palm of his hand.

“Why am I the one you get so shitty around?”

Kazuichi responds by leaning intimately into his side, resting his head comfortably onto Hajime’s broad shoulder, mumbling, “It’s ‘cos we’re soul-friends, and you never get that mad at me-- which I totally appreciate, by the way. A lot.”

“Yeah, you’d better. I was a little surprised to hear about Gundham though. I knew something was up the other day, but I didn’t think it would lead to this.”

“Neither did I!” Kazuichi yelps, taking a hasty swig of his drink and slamming the glass back down onto the bar. Teruteru, drying glasses a few feet away, watches him with knowing amusement. In a tacky Hawaiian shirt, he blends seamlessly into the wall of brightly-coloured bottles behind him, and though it’s in his deeply invasive interest to investigate, he thinks he’ll sit back and watch the fireworks from where he is.

“What is it you see in him, then? What is it you like about him?” Hajime leans over the bar, watching Kazuichi out of the corner of his eye with glittering intrigue. He’s not about being a shit-stirrer, but he still hasn’t wrapped his head around the details of Kazuichi’s roller-coaster of a week. Silently, he finds great humour in the aftermath of Nagito’s unintentional carnage, and even greater humour in the idea of Kazuichi falling into the arms of his self-proclaimed rival. Maybe he didn’t have all that much to worry about after all.

Despite his whining, Kazuichi looks to have this exchange in the bag if they’ve kissed already, but it doesn’t stop him from flopping down onto the bar and moaning, “I...I don’t know! I really don’t know! I-I guess he’s kind of, y’know...h-hot.”

It’s an interesting display, seeing his disgustingly verbal affections for Sonia reduced to a timid assessment of attraction to a man that even Hajime has to admit has a remarkable jawline. Regardless of anxieties, Hajime isn’t going to let Kazuichi spend the better part of this party wallowing in misery. Necking his drink in one swift gulp, he grabs Kazuichi by the wrist and begins to pull him away from the bar.

“W-wh...what are you-- hey, let go!”

“I want to go talk to Sonia. C’mon, let’s go see what she’s wearing. And, if we so happen to bump into Gundham then, oh well, happy accident,” Hajime hums flippantly, his grip on Kazuichi like iron. No amount of pathetic wriggling will break him free, and before he knows it, he’s being dragged towards where Sonia and Gundham are talking with Hiyoko and Mahiru. What an unlikely combination. Kazuichi feels himself shrinking when he’s thrust out under Hiyoko’s sharp, mocking eye.

It goes without saying that she looks beautiful. Her usual orange attire has been replaced with a prim, delicate, peach-coloured kimono with the most exquisite white patterns inked into the fabric. The bouncing, juvenile pigtails have been transformed into an intricate but elegant hairstyle that Kazuichi can’t find a name for, adorned with fluffy hair-clips and dangling silver beads. She’s even wearing makeup, though only a respectable smudge of pale pink over her lips and under her eyes.

As always, her tone utterly defies her looks, and she snarks, “I told you Kazuichi would rock up looking like he’s just swan-dived into a nuclear reactor. Can’t you give our eyes a break? I already had to spend all day watching Mahiru trying to shove pig barf over there into that elastic band of a dress.”

Kazuichi curls in on himself, his eyes glued to his feet as he tries to map out the best way to conduct this conversation without looking outright at Gundham. With a bright chirp, Mahiru tells him kindly, “The colours are a little unusual, but you look pretty smart, Kazuichi! I have to admit, I was kind of worried about what you’d turn up in. Thought we might have another Ibuki on our hands.”

“Hey,” Kazuichi protests weakly, “have some faith in me.”

It’s a pointless thing to say to a force like Mahiru, and she’s done herself up very nicely, which Kazuichi considers spectacular if she’s been torn between helping Hiyoko and Mikan all day. She’s wearing a daring, strapless, maroon dress, but over the top is a nice, comfy, little cardigan that stops just shy of her midsection. Her hair is too short to do anything ambitious with, but it’s swept to one side with a fierce shot of glitter and hairspray, giving her an unintentionally smouldering look. Spying the camera hanging reliably around her neck, Kazuichi wonders what happened to the photo she’d taken of him and Gundham at the beach house, and envisions what pictures she might take on a night like tonight. It’s certainly incentive to get closer, despite his own nerves, but there’s still so many people around. He’s standing no more than a few feet away, so why is it suddenly so hard to face up to him?

Oh, that’s right, he’s some kind of anticipation junkie now. He swivels on his side, the urge to fidget keeping him light on the balls of his feet, and as he turns to throws a sigh out into the open where nobody will catch him, he’s startled a foot into the air.

“Kazuichi!”

Sonia’s voice has never put him so on edge before, and he totters around to meet her with an unsteady smile. She looks so radiant, he’s almost knocked backwards by the sheer brilliance of her aura. Somehow, it does well to blot out Gundham’s darkened shadow looming behind her, but the mystery of his presence only serves to send Kazuichi’s heart-rate skyrocketing. The moment he meets his eyes, accidentally catching the flash of white glinting in the dim light, his body goes cold.

There’s something remarkable about the sight. All the busyness of Gundham’s usual attire is good at hiding how filthy, scratched-up, and dishevelled he actually is, so seeing him here with a neatly-pressed shirt, an impeccably clean face, and the only hint of scruffiness coming in the form of his hair sitting gorgeously unravelled over his forehead leaves Kazuichi starstruck. His mouth falls open, and if his pale cheeks are anything to go by, it looks as if the only thing set to leave his body is vomit. Again.

Politely, Kazuichi manages to give Sonia an up-and-down look, taking in the sight of her hard work, and his hand splays into an OK sign. “Nice work, Mis--...Sonia. You look real pretty! And, erm...uh…” He chokes quietly to himself, only able to give Gundham a very flushed grin.

Gundham’s lips silently hiking up on one side is a response that sends Kazuichi into palpitations. He can’t help but stare, knowing now what that mouth tastes like. Granted, it wasn’t anything magical. Faintly coppery, the slight sting of stale toothpaste, but mostly a flavour that Kazuichi can only describe as ‘mouth’. Dull as it is, he’d give anything to taste it again, but if he starts reminiscing about the events of last night, he’s going to start getting light-headed.

In the background, Ibuki begins to strum languidly on the guitar, setting up to break out into song whenever she feels like it. The reminder of a tune written about his ridiculous love-life hangs over Kazuichi’s head like a rain-cloud. He’d forgotten that was coming up tonight. How obvious did she make it? Are people going to figure him out from her esoteric lyrics?

“Thank you! You look very dashing yourself,” Sonia beams. “It was very fun making my own clothes, though I could not sew them from scratch. Gundham gave me a hand with some of the final touches.” She gives Kazuichi a testy flourish of her dress, but he’s too focused on the incongruous belt and necklace to take any of it in. He looks up with flat eyes, wondering if that had been Gundham’s contribution, but the flash of exasperation he catches on Gundham’s face tells him it hadn’t. Kazuichi almost feels sympathetic.

After showing off her labour, Sonia runs a hand over her forehead, and puffs her cheeks out with a sigh. Her voice is somewhat stiff when she murmurs, “It is rather warm in here. I should really get a drink. I really hate to be a bother, but...Kazuichi, could you go to the bar for me?” She knits her fingers together, mustering up the most pleading look she can.

“Um. O-oh, sure! No problem!” Kazuichi gulps, feeling some uncanny sense of déja vu about the whole conversation. Something about it seems odd, but he chalks it up the change in his feelings towards the regal young lady. However, out of his field of vision, Sonia gives Gundham a hard nudge to the ribs.

“Go with him.”

“W-what?”

“I said go with him! Quickly!”

“But why do I have to--?”

“Gundham Tanaka, if you do not follow that boy, I will bar you from ever setting foot in Novoselic, and you will never lay eyes on the creatures native to my homeland.”

“Fine! You-- fine! I was wrong about you. You are by far the most fearsome of demons, you devious princess.”

Sonia grins with utmost satisfaction, watching with a prim posture as Gundham stalks away, following the ripples of Kazuichi’s shadow through the lights cast onto the floor. It’s not like he’s unhappy to encounter Kazuichi, the day has been leading up to it after all, but to be strong-armed into it by that meddlesome princess is a fond kind of tiresome. As the distance between the two boys grows shorter, Gundham feels his temper melting away, as if stepping into a barrier that dispels all discomfort. Kazuichi’s very own aura.

He sidles up beside him at the bar, gesturing loosely to Teruteru for a drink he wants. If he’s going to do this, he might as well act like he’s here for good reason. Not that the pure pleasure of speaking with Kazuichi is an inadequate endeavour, but...well...ah, whatever, he can’t talk himself out of that one. At the very least, a drink will help hide the rosy tint spreading over his cheeks.

“Something for the lady as well?” Teruteru grins, gesturing to Sonia with a neat flick of his head. The shrug he gives is somewhat indifferent, but Kazuichi knows the gleam in his eye disturbingly well. “I’ve got just the thing. How’s this for a bit of flash, eh?”

Upon the bar he plonks down two drinks, one brown with a blackened bottom and one sparkling blue, shimmering with swirling liquid. He slides the brown one towards Gundham, and tells him in a low voice that it’s coffee. Kazuichi eyes the other drink pushed his way with knitted brows, and whilst Teruteru isn’t looking, he sneaks the quickest sip.

Gundham watches him with a bemused squint, and Kazuichi is forced to hiss, “Testing for poison. You never know what he’s gonna put in these drinks, dude! Especially for her!”

As Kazuichi ferries the drink back to Sonia, clutching it in his careful, trembling hands, Gundham allows his eyes to follow his bright yellow figure through the crowd. It’s a pretty chivalrous move, though even Teruteru wouldn’t risk fucking up his culinary delights with suspicious substances. He’s about to follow him back, but is drawn into unwanted conversation by the tutting of the barman.

“So,” Teruteru sniggers, “how’s it going? Made your move yet?”

Gundham glares. “What?”

“Y’know, you and—” he pauses to point rather obviously to Kazuichi, “I mean, I wasn’t expecting that, but hey, the world is full of surprises!”

The urge to grab him by his ridiculous pompadour and drag him clean across the bar becomes almost irresistable, and Gundham is left white-knuckle gripping his drink as he wonders how and why this walking abortion of a human being is privy to his personal secrets. It couldn’t be Sonia. Even with her lapse in language she’d never spill something so important. Did Kazuichi tell him?

To answer the question radiating from his face, Teruteru rests his chin on his hand and says, “Ibuki told me. Said to keep it a secret, mind, but asked me to help out with her little plan. So, you gonna ask your little lover-boy to dance tonight? That is the reason she’s thrown this party, right?”

He can’t even maintain his lordly vernacular in the face of such social devastation, and the only thing to fall curtly from Gundham’s lips is, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Teruteru reels back, and he begins to mop up the counter like the past five seconds hadn’t happened. With a neat whistle, he mumbles, “Okay, maybe I misjudged that. It’s not like she told me anything specific, but-- well, my point is, drinks for you two are on the house tonight!”

“Everything’s on the house tonight, fool, it’s already free. I don’t know why you thought it wise to intrude on my business, but take one more unwanted step in my direction tonight, and I won’t even sic the Four Dark Devas of Destruction upon you! I’ll just rip you to shreds with my bare hands, and scatter the pieces all four corners of the void!”

There’s a twinkle of fear in Teruteru’s eyes, but as he leans over the bar and watches Gundham storm away, taking a hasty gulp of his drink, he mutters, “Yeah, okay, I can see why Kazuichi likes you so much. That damn masochist would give even me a run for my money. Jeez.”

Sonia looks wildly dismayed when Gundham returns a minute or so after Kazuichi, giving him a silent look of questioning. A demand to explain himself. Was that not a perfect opportunity to strike up conversation? With her own drink in hands, she leans behind where Kazuichi is standing and throws up a brow. Gundham grumbles darkly into the noise of Ibuki’s shredding guitar.

“Got trapped by that idiot chef. Surely, that’s a pitfall you could’ve foreseen.”

“Oh! Right, my apologies. What did he want, anyway?”

“From the sounds of it, a long and painful death, but I neglected the request. I’ve got better things to do.”

“Yes, but that thing seems to be getting away from you. What’s he looking for?”

They both eye Kazuichi, who is gazing over his shoulder out into the crowd of people on the dance-floor. His forehead wrinkles with visible concern, and Sonia gives him a kind tap on the shoulder.

“Are you alright? If you need to go outside for a moment, I’m...I’m sure Gundham can accompany you!”

Gundham nearly drops his drink, and Kazuichi stands with an open mouth for a full five seconds. Though it’s nice to have Sonia in on the plan, her intelligent, keen face does well to cover up the fact that she’s about as subtle as ten tonnes of concrete. If she’s going to go this far, she might as well just tell Kazuichi everything and let Gundham stew in the embarrassment of it. Dragging it out this much is something he’d consider to be a cruel and unusual punishment.

Caught between a very nice idea and his current concern, Kazuichi is forced to shake his head frantically, wiping a bead of sweat from the back of his neck as he says, “N-no, that’s-- I’m just looking for Hajime. He’s sort of disappeared. I was...hoping he’d stick around with me for a bit tonight.”

He feels like a total coward saying it out loud like that, and he evades gauging even the slightest hint of acknowledgement on Gundham’s face, hoping not to give him the wrong idea. They’ve already kissed, so how hard is it to just relax with this guy? This is a question that Kazuichi keeps asking himself, and he worries he won’t find an answer until Hajime, ever the expert best friend, spells it out for him. Jumping ship with Gundham sounds really quite pleasant, but he can’t help but feel a little guilty in having to refuse.

He paces towards Gundham, close enough to be able to be heard, and with a sheepish smile he admits, “Sorry, I-- that sounds really nice. The thing is, Ibuki set this whole thing up, so as much as I’d like to ditch, I’ve gotta stay.” He decides not to mention the special song Ibuki has lined up, and he’s got to be quick on the draw to pull the power cord if even a whisper of his or Gundham’s name crops up in it.

“It would be a waste to leave now after spending so much time getting ready,” Gundham agrees placidly, draining the rest of his drink. The way his throat bobs as he swallows sends a shiver up Kazuichi’s spine that can’t be explained. How the hell is that supposed to be hot? It’s just someone’s neck! No wonder he’s having such a hard time plucking up the courage to blurt any feelings out, he feels like if he finally admits the truth aloud for the world to hear, his heart will just stop.

But, it’s no excuse. Shy as he might be, all the danger that comes with stepping out of his comfort zone is still so hot and exciting. He’s here to have a good night. Hajime can’t be around to rescue him all the time. If he wants to spend this moment with someone he likes, he shouldn’t need the buffer of another person to keep him sane. Ironic to think that now, remembering how desperately smitten he’d been with Sonia. Hajime had been his ball and chain back then, but with the target of affection switched, he’s suddenly floating on his own.

“I’ve...never been good at these things. Not really,” Kazuichi begins to mumble, hard to hear through the shouting and singing. “I turn up, eat food, and then fuck off back home, y’know?”

Gundham takes this as a comfortable invite, and closes the gap between them, replying, “I never went to things like this in middle school. It’s never been a particular interest of mine.”

“Sooo...not a dancer then?” Kazuichi grins awkwardly, trying not to sound like he’s hopeful about it.

He’s met with a pointed look out onto the dance-floor, where the sight is an abomination. Hiyoko’s gentle dancing is very beautiful, but against Ibuki’s throttling music it’s an absurd sight. Mahiru’s torn between dancing and taking photos, not hugely light on her feet doing so either, and Mikan is just sort of wobbling between the two. Akane looks like she’s trying to start a beat-down far too close to Fuyuhiko for anyone’s liking, and Nekomaru isn’t helping in the slightest. It looks like a fight is going to break out under the guise of dancing, but knowing Ibuki, she’d consider that a win for her wicked party.

“Okay, point taken,” Kazuichi huffs, breaking into a giggle.

“There’s a time and a place for dancing, and this is neither of those things,” Gundham tells him sagely, watching Sonia stride off to jump into the chaos. “Which is why Sonia is...joining them. Of course.”

“Brave. Who do you think is gonna get hurt first?”

“Mm. The healer, if she can’t even stand properly, but if that meat-headed gymnast spills that drink over the back of the Fuyuhiko, then that prediction might be subject to change.”

“Has it ever dawned on you that our class is really fucking weird?”

Gundham stares at him incredulously, and Kazuichi gets the passing realisation that he and Gundham might actually be one of the most normal students here. He thinks he might feel sick if he wasn’t smiling so hard, and though the urge to reach out and grab his hand is strong, the fourteen other pairs of eyes in the room keep him still.

The night isn’t passionate or exciting, but it’s deeply enjoyable. Loitering on the sidelines, inching closer together when nobody is watching, Kazuichi spends his time with Gundham chattering leisurely and trying out the food. He can’t give in to throwing himself so earnestly into the party like Ibuki had been planning, but it’s not as if her idea isn’t working. It’s a few hours into the night before Kazuichi realises this might even be a date. Several hours of snidely commenting on people’s dancing together, watching Sonia from afar like a couple of proud parents, and holding their breaths the moment a shadow obscures them from sight, the feeling of being alone in a room full of people is almost too much to bear.

Several times, Kazuichi entertains the idea of asking Gundham to dance in the shadow of one of the speakers onstage, if only for a minute or so. It’s not something he gets around to doing, but the thought doesn’t abandon him despite the hopelessness. Every now and then, he glances around beside the stage to see if the plan is still tenable.

Even if he’s not making the leaps and bounds he wishes, he hasn’t stopped smiling all night. It’s not like he’s in a rush, things like this are supposed to be taken slow, and even if he is, there should still be enough time after the party to indulge in another slow walk back to the hotel. It might not be an intimate dance at an awesome party, but he’ll take what he can get.

Or, as is more usually the case, he’ll take what’s very forcefully thrust upon him. Ibuki, once again, comes to his ire over his aid as she begins to address the crowd through the microphone. Her voice bounces from floor to ceiling, shrieking and deafening in this confined space. It’s so loud that the drinks begin to rattle in their glasses.

“Hey! You guys enjoying the night? Okay, well it’s about to get even better! Let’s grab ourselves a partner and get on that dance-floor for my newest song! I mean it! I’m serious, everyone pair up-- I’m not gonna start the song until everyone has a partner. Teruteru’s behind the bar, I’m up here, and I know the numbers are even. Ibuki can count, you know! Hurry up, c’mon!”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding,” Fuyuhiko spits, glaring daggers at Ibuki and her ridiculous commands. “You’re making us do this?”

“I am making you do this! I am invoking my power as party goddess and part-time cupid to make you pair up for at least one song! And, it’s gonna be this one! So, hop to it~!”

Like the idea of the party itself, it’s met poorly but complied with with a little bit of a smile. Akane stops just short of jumping onto Nekomaru’s back, as if somehow that’s an appropriate start to a dance. Hiyoko is quick to grab Mahiru’s hands, making a loud joke about dancing on the other girl’s feet like she occasionally does with her father. Then, there’s Peko and Fuyuhiko, who both wear rosy but stony expressions, eager to get through this harrowing experience alive. They look more like they’re going to war than dancing at a high school party. Is that what makes them such a good match?

As people begin to pair up, it leaves them with a problem that grows bigger by the second. Kazuichi realises he hasn’t breathed since Ibuki made her demands, and he can’t quite bring himself to turn the three inches to the left it would take to put him in front of Gundham. He’s too busy trying to swallow a lump in his throat the side of a baseball. Would it be weird if they danced together? He can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy for everyone so quick to make their matches, but it’s not like it means anything if they’re being forced, right? People would just assume that it was an unlucky pairing. That’s...okay, isn’t it?

From within the crowd on the dusty dance-floor, Sonia shoots out and skids across the room towards where the storage cupboard is. Watching her dash, Gundham feels a wave of relief wash over him, realising that she’s smart enough to pair herself up with someone else to avoid getting in their way. He’s got to hand it to her, she’s pulling her weight. Scanning the sea of heads in the room, the most he can make out from this far away is Sonia chattering animatedly to a mop of burnt brown hair.

“Sh...should we?” Kazuichi gulps, giving Gundham the most imperceptible nudge on the arm. “I-Ibuki’s going to call us out if we don’t. This is...this is what she had in mind.”

Gundham eyes him neutrally, inching his way bit by bit towards the dance-floor. “So, Ibuki’s intentions were sinister after all. Did you know about this plot?”

Kazuichi shakes his head. “I-I had some idea, but I didn’t know she’d do this. When she gets something like this into her head, she just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gundham cuts in softly. “You...you did want to dance, didn’t you?”

What is he supposed to say to that? He feels as if his face is about to burst. He’s caught between a grin and a grimace, wringing his hands anxiously. In any other case, he might assume that the chilly sensation drawing down his back is indicative of a situation he should run away from, something he’d rather avoid, but...he really does want to do it. His body betrays him, but he knows what he wants. He wants to be able to take Gundham’s hand, and even if they’re both awful and flat-footed about it, it’ll still be a memory for them both to cherish. Surely, that’s worth more than his dignity and the respect of his classmates, if he still has any of that left.

So, what is he feeling so afraid of now?

Lips pressed tightly together, he gives Gundham a shaky nod, hoping that whatever sincerity he can convey with his eyes is enough to overwhelm the visible discomfort that has him trembling from head to toe. If he could scrape together the barest amount of confidence, he might be able to pick a fight and play the whole thing off naturally, but he just can’t do it. He can’t do that with Gundham any more. He can’t even manage it as a joke.

They trudge towards the dance-floor together, catching only a few eyes and smirks, but everyone largely seems to be preoccupied with their own predicaments. Just when Kazuichi thinks he’s found a safe spot to dance, perfectly hidden from sight by the hulking Nekomaru, Gundham pulls him out into the middle between every other couple in the room. Kazuichi baulks, tugging uselessly at Gundham’s sleeve in an attempt to whine.

“This is better,” Gundham whispers, though seems a little uncertain of it himself. “Nagito is dancing on that side of the room with Mikan, and I don’t think getting close to them is a good idea.”

A match made in hell. No good can come of those two crashing into each other, so Kazuichi will relent that Gundham is making a smart move, but it still puts them right out into the open. They’re smack-bang in the middle of the carnage, with Ibuki looking down on them wolfishly like some sadistic but benevolent goddess. Meeting her eye for only a second gives Kazuichi a sensation of heartburn, knowing his fate is in her grotty, nail-bitten hands.

She begins to strum an introductory tune, getting everyone ready to take whatever position they fancy to dance the next two and a half minutes away. Kazuichi has never felt his mind race like this before. He doesn’t know where to look. Settling his gaze on Gundham’s tie, the natural point of his eyeline, makes him feel restless. To one side, he can see Hiyoko giggling away and pulling Mahiru’s hands back and forth. On the other side, Chiaki seems to be quite comfortable resting her entire body against Byakuya, almost as if clutching onto an enormous teddy bear. He doesn’t look all too sure what to make of it, and has settled for awkwardly patting her head. Despite being out of their comfort zones, they all make it look so easy. So natural in their gawkiness.

When an unsteady breath is forced from his lips, Gundham gently catches one of his hands, murmuring, “It’ll be fine. What are you worried about?”

Kazuichi can feel himself holding back tears, seeing now for the first time how longing can be a physical sensation. Just the slightest graze of Gundham’s fingers over the backs of his knuckles has him weakened. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do this. The problem is the opposite. Everything is screaming at him to lean so far into this, to just collapse into the arms awaiting him from mere inches away, but every other beating heart in this room keeps him chained to the floor. He can’t enjoy it like this. He doesn’t just want to do this, he wants to throw himself so deep into it that even if he tries to look back, he won’t see anything.

Still, it is a little funny; being held at arms length whilst the melody seeping into the hazy air is just for them. It’s an awful situation, but only made so by the abundance of affection. He doesn’t want to be dignified or polite any more, he wants to explode. He wants all this messiness hiding within to be thrown out into the open. He feels like he’s spent all week cutting parts out of himself and hiding them wherever he can, coming up with reason after reason as to why a dishonest, disjointed existence suits him just fine. Of course, that would never have worked, but after the people around him had set to pick up the pieces, helping him to fit them in the ways that feel right, he’s stuck.

If he wasn’t such a selfish person, he thinks a lot of his problems would simply vanish. It’s petulance. He wants everything to go his own way, and this is no different. It won’t be the end of the world if he’s made to wait just an hour more for a bit of privacy, but if it hurts this much then perhaps that’s not what bothers him.

With a gulp, Kazuichi reaches out to gently grab onto the sleeve of Gundham’s shirt, sticking out from under his blazer. His expression is wistful and glassy, trained only on what he’s doing, but imagining a lot more.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles. “I’m...just sulking.”

The tension hikes, the awareness in the room feeling like mud turned to air, clogging their lungs with every breath. The longer they stand here, the more people are starting to notice that they’re together, and they don’t need to look up to know the familiar feeling of eyes boring down upon them. Even though they’re the eyes of friends, Kazuichi can’t shake this image of himself as a cornered rat.

“Sulking? Why?”

Kazuichi cracks a smile, small but more mature than is used to being seen on his face. Somehow, whether it’s the clothes or the experience of the past week, he looks a little older, and Gundham realises he’s not wearing his contacts.

“I don’t...want to fake doing this,” Kazuichi tells him quietly. “If we’re going to dance then I want to dance-- I want to dance with you, not...not just near you. But, I can’t do that here. Not with everyone...watching.”

Gundham’s mouth opens. It looks like he might say something, but in the few seconds where all that escapes is a contemplative croak, Kazuichi cuts in once more, fisting the front of Gundham’s shirt and looking up at him desperately.

“Did you know the song Ibuki is about to play is about us?”

The other boy’s eyes grow wide, flashing white even through the smoky atmosphere. His entire body seems to tense, and the grip he has on Kazuichi’s wrist becomes tight. The wobble of nausea that comes with hitting the peak of a roller-coaster pervades. The horrible lull, the stillness before the drop, Kazuichi knows he could reach out and grab that sensation with his hands, feeling it swell in his fingers before bursting. What happens after that, he doesn’t know, but he’ll be made to find out whether he likes it or not.

Gundham begins to pull him closer, as close as Kazuichi dreams of being, and every second in motion takes more and more air out of his lungs. He won’t fight back what happens now, even if he’s scared of what’s to come, and what’s to come…

...turns out to be a lot of water.

“W-what the fuck?! Shit, who set the sprinklers off?!”

“Eek! God, it’s so cold! What the hell?!”

A shower of icy droplets cascade over the room, pelting against the floor like bullets, and the twang of Ibuki’s guitar is outshone by a chorus of yelling and groaning from students who are fleeing in the direction of the doors. The fog that had given the room a sleazy but romantic feel has been destroyed, but it’s replaced by a tender kind of mist from the running water that begins to pool around Kazuichi’s shoes.

It’s a surreal moment. Hearing the clatter of heels against wet flooring, seeing the shadows of people running through the blazing lights; the stage remains untouched by the storm, and Ibuki is still fingering the strings of her guitar with a thoughtful expression. Kazuichi can’t will himself to move despite how awful the feeling of water seeping through his hair is. Gundham also remains still, frozen in place by the unexpected downpour.

Everyone is out of the building in about fifteen seconds, except for the two of them and Ibuki. Though it’s unpleasant, the feeling of damp seams running under his armpits and over his back, Kazuichi starts to realise how horribly warm he’d been in this stifling atmosphere, and the shower has provided him with a breath of fresh air. A cooling period. Only one pair of eyes rest on him now, but even that’s too much for him.

He brings a hand to his face, sliding them under where the water is beginning to pool under his glasses, and bites back a disgustingly cheesy grin. “D-don’t stare at me like that, I look awful. Man, this just had to happen tonight, huh?” From the way he wipes his eyes, it almost looks like he’s crying.

Gundham chuckles, low enough to be heard only as a rumble through the non-committal melody droning through the speakers. Kazuichi hopes he’ll politely look away, sparing him the embarrassment of being caught in such an unremarkable state, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even falter. How his eyes can seem hard as steel but soft as a feather is extraordinary, and when Gundham slowly raises his hands, holding them expectantly in front of Kazuichi, the mist seems to rise between them.

Despite all worries, Kazuichi really does end up getting the night he wanted. Ibuki’s usual hardened way of singing is replaced just this once by a breezy, smouldering kind of vocal, ebbing through the darkness with unparalleled grace. The tune sits on their ears with no weight, making their movements seem lighter than air.

When Kazuichi takes Gundham’s hand, looping his other arm around his back, he realises that the heavy application of bandages around his fingers are gone, leaving a hand covered in countless stains and ridges. When intertwined, he can feel the trail of every scar, soaring over his skin like tiny strikes of lightning. Every bite leaves an uneven valley in the skin, and the exposed hand shudders in a way that suggests timidity. The hand that never gets held. Kazuichi wants to tell him that he’d never shy away from holding it, but actions speak louder than words, and his own calloused fingertips close around it with a firm, unspoken promise.

Through the gentle swaying, Kazuichi finally feels the comfort of resting his chin against Gundham’s collarbone, tilting it enough so he can look up at his face unobstructed. It’s one hell of a sight. Behind his natural glower is the capacity to look so very gentle. Kazuichi can see now why the expressions of a malevolent beast have never seem to fit him, looking so foreign on a face full of uneven but rounded features. Somewhat juvenile, and though full of wisdom, it’s still hopeful in that way that young people are.

Kazuichi begins to laugh, watching the trail of eyeliner drip down Gundham’s chin, and as much as he’d like to reach up and wipe it away, he’s cemented to the idea of not letting go for even a second. He settles for burying his face into Gundham’s neck, getting only the faintest scent of deodorant that’s largely been washed away by the neutrality of the water. It’s a strange feeling, to just fall into someone without even having to worry about what they think, and it’s reinforced when Gundham does the same, resting his face somewhat gingerly against the side of Kazuichi’s head.

It’s wet and unpleasant. It’s nothing short of a disaster. It’s as messy as Kazuichi is, and as cold and misunderstood as Gundham is, but it’s created a space in time where they can both collide as themselves, watched only from afar by the two fond pairs of eyes posted safely by the door; Sonia and Hajime watch them silently, making sure to keep this sweet moment away from the rest of the world for as long as they can.

Hajime has chosen to hide out in the doorway of the storage room. It feels a bit cowardly in the heat of such a rambunctious party, but he’s got a lot more on his mind than that. He feels somewhat guilty for abandoning Kazuichi, but the guy has to learn to keep himself afloat sooner or later. Or, more correctly, he needs to muster the confidence to realise that he already can.

If he keeps his distance, Kazuichi will be able to sort himself out. This much he’s certain of, but he’s still not put at ease. It’s a bit of a heavy environment for someone as emotionally fragile as his soul-friend. Too many people, too much noise, he’s still trying to find footing away from what he knows with Sonia. Ibuki has put her all into pulling this off, but maybe he could give Kazuichi just one more leg up.

“Is something the matter?”

Hajime leaps out of his skin, startled by the babyish voice ringing from just under his nose. He hadn’t seen Usami approach him, which is remarkable considering how much she stands out. Her expressions as a robot are limited, but a sense of easygoing thoughtfulness shines through in the way she tilts her head with that familiar, dumb expression.

“U-uh, no! Not at all! Sorry, I was just zoning out for a second.”

Usami hums to herself, and then begins to twiddle her paws together. The crown she’s clearly made herself is sitting precariously on her head, perched at a jaunty angle. “Hajime, it’s my job as your teacher on this field trip to make sure everyone is having a good time. You are enjoying the party, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you rather be out there dancing with your friends?”

She’s strange, but very good-natured, and her intentions are as pure as can be. That’s why Hajime feels a little bad blowing her off like this, responding, “It’s alright, really. I like watching these things from afar.”

“You’re thinking about Kazuichi, aren’t you?”

Hajime’s mouth falls open before he has a chance to deny it, and he winds up kicking his feet sheepishly at the floor, feeling quite small under Usami’s accusing frown. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting such a level of acuity from her. Guess that was a misstep on his part.

“How...how did you figure that out?” Hajime asks, a lopsided smile on his face at the thought of Usami being far more privy to his thoughts than he’d like. “I guess you’re right, but it’s not like it’s anything bad.

Usami sighs rather dramatically, toddling over to stand right beside him and join him in observing the chaos of the other students bouncing around the room.

“I told you, Hajime, I’m your teacher. It’s my job to notice these things. You’re worried about how Kazuichi will fare at this party, when what he really wants to do is spend his time with Gundham.”

“Y-you know that much?!”

“How stupid do you think I am? I’m not just any old silly rabbit! I’m Usami! And, I’m your teacher! And, it’s my job to make sure you all have fun on this island!”

She’s really hammering that point home, but when she says it with such assertion, Hajime can’t help but feel a little in awe of her. He gives her a nod of acknowledgement, deciding that they’re now on equal grounds in terms of information, but how that helps him here, he’s got no clue.

“I-I guess,” he mumbles. “It’s not like Kazuichi doesn’t want to be here, but...I think with everyone around, he just gets so in his own head that it’s hard for him to get back out. If this wasn’t the first time, maybe he wouldn’t be so nervous, but everything is still so fresh.”

“I understand!” Usami chirps. “What he needs is a moment to be able to enjoy the party on his own terms. Away from people, or at least for now, anyway.”

“And, how would you suggest we pull that off?”

“Well, what’s the best way to clear a room?”

Hajime leans his weight against the door frame, resting his chin on his hand as he stares into the middle-distance hard enough to burn a hole through space. Usami seems to watch his thinking process with some distress.

“I...don’t really know. You’d have to make the room, like, uninhabitable, right? Or, at the very least, unpleasant to be in. D’you want me to jack up the speakers super loud?”

“No! No, no, no! That would be awful for everyone’s ears! Especially mine,” Usami wails. “No, something less dangerous!”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Hajime sighs impatiently. “You must have something in mind, right?”

“Maybe,” Usami titters. “Did you know this music venue has a sprinkler system?”

“A sprinkler system? W-with all this music equipment? Wouldn’t that just start a fire?”

“Actually, the sprinkler system is only over the hall and the bar, not the actual stage. Really, it’s more for containing fires than actual fire preven—”

“Okay, okay, I get it, but you’re not suggesting we start a fire, are you?”

“Good lord, no!” Usami squeaks. “Nothing like that! Sprinkler systems like that, they’re a little like smoke detectors. They don’t just get set off by smoke though. Harsh chemicals can sometimes do it too. Things like a lot of perfume, or maybe hairspray…”

Hajime crouches down to meet the little bunny at her level, a wild sparkle in his eyes as he exclaims, “You mean Mikan! But how...do we get that to work?”

“Well…” Usami trails, looking somewhat nervous by her own idea, “what we’d need to make that work is a real stroke of luck.”

The speaker suddenly screeches through the force of an awkward feedback loop, and Ibuki’s voice begins to assault the hearing of every unfortunate soul in the building. Even Usami is forced to cover her long, floppy ears with her paws, wibbling under the heft of the noise.

“Hey! You guys enjoying the night? Okay, well it’s about to get even better! Let’s grab ourselves a partner and get on that dance-floor for my newest song!”

Hajime peers out into the crowd, watching the students fight between the backlash of Ibuki’s idea and the fact they’ve got not choice but to go along with her insanity. What others see as a chore, Hajime sees as an opportunity, and he takes that opportunity by the shoulder when it wanders past in the form of a tall, lanky, white-haired student.

When Ibuki stops singing, her guitar takes the limelight, and Kazuichi can tell the song is going to be over soon. Two minutes is too little time, but when he remembers how much time they’ll have after the party, he grins into the fabric of Gundham’s blazer. Their refined but intimate position has turned into them nestling comfortably into each others arms, making the barest attempt at a swinging movement as an excuse to call this a dance.

Into the crook of Kazuichi’s neck, Gundham purrs, “Did you say Ibuki wrote this song...about us?”

Kazuichi’s uncertain giggle is muffled by the way he presses his face into Gundham’s shoulder. He mewls uncomfortably for a moment, amused by his own distress, before admitting, “Yeah, last night, after we...erm-- I went to her cottage. I couldn’t sleep, and I sort of...told her everything. That’s where she got the idea for this party.”

He thinks Gundham might be angry, but Gundham just chuckles. “So, she composed this melody in a single night? How impressive. I can’t say I’ve ever been the topic of a song before. A war cry, perhaps, but not a song. The title is a bit gauche though.”

“I think the title says a lot more about me than it does about you.”

“That may be so, my love.”

Kazuichi chokes on spit, trying not to hack up over Gundham’s chest, and when he swings back to meet him with pinprick eyes, he notes Gundham biting his lip somewhat anxiously. Did he mean to say that? That could’ve just been an accident, right? Kazuichi tries to hide how dazzled he is, but as is par for the course, he fails miserably. That only serves to put a flash of humour in Gundham’s eyes, though he still appears flustered by his admission.

As the music begins to fade away, Kazuichi swallows. He grips onto the front of Gundham’s jacket, looking up at him with round but serious eyes. The sprinklers have long since stopped, leaving them wet and cold in a room that’ll likely be filled with people in a few moments. Gundham watches him carefully, admiring the boldness he’s seeing. The culmination of their week together, of Kazuichi’s ups and downs, and what the work he’s done has amounted to.

“Gundham, I...I want to use that favour you owe me.”

Gundham’s lips part ever so slightly. Not a single noise escapes him, but it’s like he’s able to smile without moving a muscle. When it’s clear Kazuichi needs his approval to continue, he quietly asks, “What do you wish of me?”

“I want you to be...with me.”

It fits his criteria. It’s not stupid, it’s quite legal, and in no way makes him a slave to Kazuichi, though nowadays, he thinks he wouldn’t mind that so much. It’s in every way a benefit, and the humble plea is like a chorus of angels on his ears. No mortal soul could do it as well as this one.

The attempt to maintain his composure is shaky, and through a grin that shows glittering teeth, Gundham tells him, “If that is the contract you wish to make with me, then so be it. I consider myself...bound to you.”

As Kazuichi feels Gundham’s hands cupping his face, caressing his pink cheeks, he giggles, “For how long?”

“I’m an ambitious man. I’ve always wanted to see what the end of eternity looks like.”

“W-with me?!”

“There’s no point chasing a dream if you can’t even establish an attempt. What’s stopping you?”

Kazuichi reaches up to rest his hands on the curve of Gundham’s neck, sitting just under his jawline. For the first time in what feels like a very long time, the familiar, snappy grin that looks so at home on his face finally makes its appearance. What was once unwarranted confidence is now very much warranted, and twice as attractive.

“My silly, mortal lifespan, for one.”

With a hissing laugh, Gundham pulls him in until he’s millimetres away, and in a voice that Kazuichi can feel over his nose, he promises, “That won’t be an issue as long as I’m around.”

Once more, Kazuichi is made to feel the raw benevolence and compassion that could only be bestowed upon by a godlike creature, but the idea that it could be equally achieved by a common, mortal soul makes it so very precious. The world as he’s come to understand it may be seething with monsters, but the kindred spirits he knows he can love will shine like stars even through the darkest parts of the world. Not just Gundham, but the ones who spent their time picking up the pieces of him when even he couldn’t bear to, and a love he finds in a very scary world is not just a reward for him, but a pleasure for them too.

There’s not many ways to describe how Kazuichi clings to him, how he’s clutched in return like a handful of jewels, and how the kiss between them is longing, hungry, and yet somehow a relief for them both. Their song ends on a note that reverberates through them, buzzing against the fingers Kazuichi rakes through Gundham’s hair, and for the first time, much like his newfound partner, he truly does not care about the eyes that fall on them, nor those that will continue to do so for...however long eternity might happen to last.