Chapter Text
“Well aren’t you early today,” there’s laughter in Tachibana’s words as she addresses the newest arrival to the cafe. She’s always cheerful Sakura has come to learn — at least with the guests, and maybe a bit too playful for his own tastes, but it is what it is. “Finally going back to having your usual Nirei?”
Sakura grunts out his greeting around a spoonful of soft rice and egg, not yet keen enough to start interacting in full with others when there’s still an entire plate of food to enjoy. He’s already had enough for his morning—carrying a wayward granny again tends to do that for him.
He side eyes the blazer Nirei sets down on the stool next to him, a pinch to his brows at the soft laugh that escapes his classmate. “Yeah, figured it was time,” his fingers tap at the edge of the countertop, body half leaning against it and Sakura finds himself pausing to look between him and Tachibana. Nirei’s smile is a small thing, nervous at the edges as he gestures to the kitchen. “You mind if I make it?”
Tachibana waves a hand her own smile bright, a knowing glint to her eye that makes Sakura squint. “Just make sure I don’t have to use the first aid kit again.”
Sakura pauses in his munching to eye the various utensils lined out in the kitchen from the pans, to the cutting board, all the way to the knives and wonders if he’ll end up getting to witness Nirei enter a losing battle against inanimate objects. If nothing else it would be entertaining, if only because it’s Nirei and it would be a free ticket to a one of a kind circus act of disastrous proportions.
Granted, he would help Nirei get to the hospital if needed, but he’s going to laugh first. There’s no stopping it from coming out, Sakura recognizes, it’s simply the way he’s built.
Nirei’s nose scrunches and a full body shiver works its way through him as if he’s touched something particularly nasty. “Never again,” it’s a mumble, but it just has Sakura’s brow rising. Clearly a repeat occurrence then.
For a moment Sakura stays hunched over his plate content to watch as his classmate rummages around in the fridge. It’s like he lives here with how quick he pulls things out of it and deposits them on the counter.
“Curious, huh?” Tachibana is leaned against her counter, chin propped upon her hand as she watches Nirei with him. Her lip is twitched, a lopsided fond thing that makes Sakura twitch. Too free, too warm, too familiar; mirror image even if only in rare instances.
“Not really,” it falls out of his mouth on autopilot as his gaze shifts for all of a moment only to flit back when he hears the first thunk of metal against wood, smells the soft burn of an onion is his nose. “‘s just… Nirei ain’t exactly known for bein’ the most steady. First time we met he tripped in the doorway. You’re given’ him a knife. Doesn't seem like the smartest decision.”
Tachibana’s grin grows in a way that makes the back of his neck prickle, his muscles tensing before he convinces himself to relax. “You really are terrible at showing your concern for others. You’re lucky you’re cute. I can see it plain as day on your face, you’re practically debating jumping the counter to stand behind him.” The laughter in her tone grows as she continues, doing nothing but making him sputter, ears burning in indignation. “What, gonna fight the knife for Nirei-kun, huh? huh? Gonna glare at the pan too if he burns himself?”
“It’s nothin’ like that!” it’s barked out, his skin crawling with the assumption of it all. “He’s just prone to gettin’ hurt all the time. Better to nip it in the bud before it can even happen, that’s it. Can’t even fight a damn kitchen anyway, I ain’t that stupid.”
“But you’d try anyway, wouldn't you cause you’re that stubborn.”
Sakura’s nose curls. The next spoonful he takes, he can’t help but grind his teeth against the metal despite the ache.
“I might not be good at a lot of things, but I’m not always a disaster,” Nirei huffs out and Sakura finds himself tracking the movement of his hands, the way he finishes chopping an onion before moving onto ginger. Can smell something nutty and strong when he pours oil into a pan, wonders if the onions would have a crunch as they cook. “I do have other talents outside of information, y'know Sakura-san. It’s a bit early to be bullying me don’t you think?”
It’s said with a laugh. Sakura hears it—loud, familiar, boyishly playful as the nervous grin that stretches across the half of Nirei’s face he can see. It’s an easy-given thing, proffered like one of the snacks kept in his pocket — and he. Wonders. Has a second thought about if those are store bought or hand made. Thinks of strawberry bursting on his tongue, scrunching his nose (“too damn sweet, but I ain’t wastin’ nothin. Don’t get a big head thinkin’ I like it, kay?” as the other boys snorts.) — but that’s Nirei.
An oddity just like the rest of Furin in what he gives, shares, offers; perhaps a bit more giving than the others, a naivety that makes Sakura want to bite him. Scare him just a little when the worst thoughts crop up unbidden. Show him not all animals should be fed just cause they’re at his doorstep.
(Has wondered, dreaded, felt the foundations of— something crack at imagining something, someone tearing a chunk out of him; unthankful with starving maw to leave him bleeding or concussed.
Has felt something twitch deep in his core with a rancid kind of vitriol at what Sakura knows he could be capable of. Knows he has a short leash, a tether on the verge of snapping for everyone in Furin. Recognizes it’s even shorter for some in specific.)
Sakura snorts. “Don’t make bullying you so easy then.”
“I’ll do ya one better,” Nirei says, a swift spin on his heel that has Sakura arching a brow as the other boy waves a spoon in his face, a little bowl held carefully in one hand. It’s a heavy smell in his nose. Onion, ginger, something a little sweet, sugary, the distinct punch of miso all mixed together as Nirei continues. “I’ll show you! I’ll expect an apology, Sakura-san.”
There’s a patch of the mixture on the back of Nirei’s knuckles. There’s a thought in his head. Nonsense, just a little bit of fun.
It must show in his face because out of the corner of his eye he catches Tachibana pinch at her brow before she carefully removes the bowl from Nirei’s grasp to set it on the counter.
Nirei is saying something still — something about how long it's been since the first aid kit was brought out, that since he’s been training with Suo he’s gotten more steady on his feet. Sakura is listening with half an ear as he eyes the hand holding the spoon.
His classmate has always been an animated talker. From gestures to grabbing others and shaking them to make a point. In a way, it's good practice aiming for a moving target.
All the same, it takes very little for him to lean across the counter to curl his fingers around Nirei’s wrist, feel the rabbit-kick of his pulse against his fingers as he tugs Nirei closer. Drags the broad strip of his tongue over the edge of Nirei’s knuckle. A contented hum escaping him before Sakura can think to bottle it. “Not bad.”
It’s tangy, in a way. A pleasant warmth, a lick of something salty. How did people put it — something made from home?
He can feel Nirei’s wrist twitch, an animal flinch, a soft bubbling of a noise in the back of his classmate’s throat that makes him think Nirei’s soul is fighting against the constraint of his mortal coil to extricate the building. It’s not an unfamiliar noise. He hears it at least twice in the early mornings of the first hour of their class meetings; sometimes he hides under his desk too, shaking like a leaf, but for the most part Sakura has chopped it up to a poor defense mechanism in the other boy.
Most of his classmates learned first to get better at a fight, to punch back when harmed. Nirei instead, in one more of his eccentricities, learned how to play possum. Though… he is playing beetle now, in a way.
There’s the clack of something as Sakura opens his eyes, a part of him wishing there was a bit more of that sauce to try. He feels his smile curl, a lick of playful satisfaction at the way Nirei shakes, startled and for once at a lack of words. “You shoulda known better than to bait me like that,” Sakura tells him, blunt as he feels amused. “When have I ever backed down, huh? I ain’t a coward.”
With all the times Nirei has called him fight crazy this should’ve been expected. Still there’s something fun in getting to do… this. The teasing. The playfulness of it all. There’s a discordance still in it — of learning not to jump the gun; to know teasing from mockery.
“Wow,” Tachibana says after a pregnant pause, Nirei still frozen in place, a startled deer staring at the bright lights of a car; accident in progress. “For someone that doesn’t like touching people you really don’t have problems with covering other people in your germs.” His gaze flits to her, his shoulders curling tight on instinct as she continues, a shift in her tone—high, playful, a hand coming up to hide the no doubt pot-stirring expression blooming on her face as she looks between him and Nirei. “Unless… my, my Sakura-kun look at you, no longer blushing at intimacy, I’m so proud! When did you and Nirei-kun cross that line, hmm?”
“Huh?” it’s with a blank stare from Sakura as Nirei’s entire body seems to wobble, his will to live, as he sounds like a broken carburetor, held and secured only by the grip of Sakura’s hand. He’s not sure if Nirei is trying to speak—to answer because all Sakura can hear is his own sputtering as the hamster in his brain returns to running, can only feel the rush of heat through his face and a sudden clamminess to his hands. He jerks, dropping Nirei’s wrist as if it were a hot coal and turns to look at him animal-eyed, pupils blown in his stammering, sputtering near-falling-out-of-his-chair half-denial and half-apology,
“I ain’t—it’s not like that!” it’s barked out, a rush of words that have Tachibana snorting behind her hand as he devolves into whirling to look between them. He points a finger, voice high in effort, or embarrassed derangement. “I ain’t a creep!” he says with so much earnest conviction to Nirei that Tachibana has to bite her lip from laughing so hard it’ll hurt.“It was just — I saw it, and he was baitin’ me an’ it was quicker to grab him. It ain’t like I make a habit of licking people!” To Nirei, in what Tachibana will dub one of Sakura’s finest moments of stupidity or ignorance. “It tasted good, you were right on that, and I shouldn’t have just grabbed ya, doesn’t matter if it’s easy to or whatever.” Then, a little softer, a little more cringing as Sakura huffs, hunching small even as his fingers twitch for the urge to grab something or curl into fists. “I wouldn’t cross a line like that on purpose—wouldn’t do that to ya.”
It’s quiet, only the hum of the lights in the cafe and Sakura hyper aware of his own breathing, the kick of his own heart; the way Nirei is still staring at him wide-eyed, a new patch of red on his cheeks and spreading far that makes him want to gnash his teeth together for causing his friend discomfort.
“Okay.” he blinks, as he registers the almost dazed way Nirei answers him. There’s still a wobble to Nirei’s hand, before his friend clears his throat. “It’s—it’s cool Sakura-san,” his laugh sounds like a record. The red is still high on his cheeks. Sakura’s never noticed how much it makes his freckles stand out. “Y’know, for a while I half expected your tongue to be rough like a cats too. Silly, I know and not—not a thing, but I couldn’t help but think like that.”
He’s rambling, like usual, but Sakura can only find it in himself to stare as Nirei turns on his heel to start scooping rice out of the cooker to start forming into small triangles alongside something else he can’t quite see.
“It’s just. You really are kind of like one. You’re quick to swipe at stuff you don’t like, you get all puffed up when you’re crowded, you’re won over with snacks. You’ve got a sensitive nose,” he laughs, and something in Sakura eases. “Guess it only fits that you lick new things that catch your interest, too.”
“Ah,” Sakura says, brain hamster once more calling it quits and attempting to unionize against working for him.
“Oh, good,” Tachibana says to him a little after Nirei has started to set his onigiri on a pan and covered them in the mixture from his bowl. “I thought you managed to break Nirei-kun for a moment there.”
“I wouldn’t break him.” It’s huffed out, his mouth twisting into a scowl.
Tachibana waves a hand, her grin playful. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re Nirei-protection member number one.”
There’s a hiss of a reply on the tip of his tongue only for him to blink as a plate of grilled rice balls is put in front of him, Nirei’s own amused answer stopping his own. “And I’ve gotta pay Suo-san and Sakura-san back for all the help they give me. Today it’s through food—so go ahead and eat up Sakura-san!”
They smell good. That same tangy and sweet combination heavy in his nose, makes him swallow with a hunger blooming in his belly. They’re small things, more round than they are triangular, glazed and browned on the top with a shining thing of butter. He can see the onions and ginger slices, the sprinkle of small sesame seeds.
He looks to Nirei, an odd bit of apprehension in his chest, something twisting and knotting at this—one more thing given freely. Nirei’s grin is familiar. All teeth and curling corners of his eyes, mouth lopsided in that way Sakura has come to mean he’s nervous as he is excited.
If his fingers twitch before he picks one up no one says anything.
They’re warm even through the bit of seaweed wrapped around them. Breathing in the smell so close he catches that familiar ginger and onion, something a little nutty, the sesame he thinks, and a soft smoky tinge from the pan.
What hits him first is the crispy outer layer followed by warm and fluffy rice—warm melted cheese in the middle of it all. There’s nothing but him and the meal shared with him, a quiet permeating through him that drags on as he sits there and reminds himself to move.
He doesn’t even realize his eyes have closed until they’re opening at Nirei’s soft, inquiring, Sakura-san? Only then does his jaw move, grinding slowly, savoring and wishing it wouldn’t end.
“Yeah,” Tachibana says, an odd kind of understanding in her tone as she nods to herself. “It’s an experience.”
“Regular.”
“Hmm?”
“I want this to be my new regular.” It’s said with another hum, released from him unbidden as his shoulders ease. His eyes close, something like bliss stretching through the cracks and core of his being. There’s a deep blush on Nirei’s face when Sakura looks at him again, unaware his gaze has lidded. “I’d fight to have this every day.”
People say food tastes like home, reminds them of it. He thinks he gets it now. It feels like belonging, he thinks; a nibble of something warm and made personally to share and be shared, to sit underneath the soft lighting of cafe Pothos and listen to Tachibana’s laughter, the soft din of the few customers coming and going. Sees home in the beads of sweat on Nirei’s skin as he stands over a hot pan. Thinks of the other boys at Furin and their easy affection and jesting; imagines the noise they bring late in the afternoons here.
It’s a funny thing, feeling warm and at ease from the noise surrounding him; how a boy with a lopsided smile and freckles painted across his nose and pockets lined with sweets and a book filled to the brim with notes makes something content curl up in the core of him.
Sakura feels like he’s greedy for it. Hungry in a way he can’t put into words.
Nirei laughs and Sakura looks at him, notices for the first time how his eyes don’t close all the way. “Sure,” he says, easy as ever as if Sakura isn’t being demanding or greedy. His smile makes something in his chest squeeze. Nirei turns to Tachibana. “Guess I’ll be making my usual more often now huh.”
Honestly speaking, Furin has been less of a school and more of a gathering space as far as Takanashi is aware — and that’s proven more each and every day.
Sure, there are still lessons to be learned that are more “regular” in the early part of the day, and most of it only because of Umemiya, but after it’s different; kindness, learning about civic duty and practicing such through keeping their town safe, how to properly curl your fist so you don’t break a finger, the works. It’s not typical but it’s not as if typical would fit anyone in the school, either.
And yet… sometimes there are normal things. Kiryu playing games on his phone and inviting others to do so with him, Tsugeura offering some of the other boys tips on working out; invitations to go eating after the “school day” is over, exchanging numbers, so on and so forth.
“Hey, what’re you starin’ at?” Kurita is half leaned over Takanashi’s chair and half slumped against his shoulder to try and peer at what’s caught his attention. His friend is loud, his voice something that can make the accustomed flinch with how quickly he can get in your space.
Well, now that he’s thinking about it, Takanashi is sure that could describe most of the people of Furin. They’re a rowdy bunch, there's no ifs about it.
He hums. “Nirei,” not the quietest classmate by far — prone to outbursts of excitement, worry, and at times amusing despair over the antics of others —, but he’s. Different. Different in the same way Sakura is, the way Suo is to the rest of them. Those three are the oddest of everyone.
“He’s just writing in his little book like usual.” Kurita says and Takanashi huffs, a soft sound as he props his chin on his hand. Kurita squints at him, places a hand on his shoulder to shake him a little. “Hey, c’mon don’t make me guess. You know I ain’t good at that shit. People watching is your thing.”
His volume gets the attention of the rest of their particular troupe with Kakiuchi dragging his chair closer to crowd around his desk with a cocked brow. “What are we betting on something happening again? Sakura picking a fight? Blushing down to his toes when Nirei grabs his sleeve? Sugishita miraculously no longer glaring at us like we’re bugs on the floor?”
“Nope,” Takanashi says, not looking away from the cluster of three desks pushed tight together. Suo’s doing if he remembers correctly. Maybe a few weeks ago? He remembers Sakura eyeing it like it’d eat him when he first noticed the change, the way he’d sputtered and hissed at how close it put him with his friends, how eventually, recently, the embarrassment has ebbed enough for him to sit splayed leg, knees touching his friends’ as he slumps into the cradle of his arms. He’s not asleep. His eyes are thin slits of amber always casing the room.
He always slumps closer to Nirei, a cat lazing about in front of a mouse.
Suo is hardly different. More playful, maybe but an oddity in his own right. The amount of times he’s just made shit up to get a rise out of the other two has long passed something to take note of — it simply is.
It’s a funny thing to notice. Takanashi knows this — can’t help it either. There’s always so much going on within the classroom and everyone is such a character, it’s fun to study them.
There’s chatter in his ears, a back and forth between Kurita and Kakiuchi (“I don’t know… new bruises maybe? There’s been a couple more fights recently, but that’s nothin’ to really bring up, yeah?” “Somethin’ about their uniforms? Kiryu’s been givin’ everyone random prizes from crane games recently.”) as he looks at their little bubble. They’re open enough with everyone else, but sometimes it feels like there is a wall between them and the rest of the class.
“He brought more food,” it’s a quiet thing from Anzai, a quirk to his mouth as he looks at them with him. Sometimes, Takanashi wonders if he’s seeing himself and his friends in those three. “He brought a bag today. Look, under his seat.”
Takanashi laughs, a soft puff of air. “Bingo.”
“Someone really needs to remind you two how weird you are.” Kakiuchi sighs out a slump to his shoulders. “Here you got me excited thinking I was going to earn a little break over some new development.”
“You’re still on that?”
“Yeah, at this point I need Kurita to lose so he’ll stop waving clippers in my face for a while.”
“...that’s,” Takanashi laughs, pressing a hand to his face in bewilderment. “Please tell me that’s not really what he put up as collateral for you two’s bet?”
Kurita huffs. “I’ll have you know I’m sacrificing something really important in the sake of this.”
“You’re betting on if Sakura — let that sink in, Sakura, who almost threw someone through a window because they grabbed his hand without warning — is going to make any progress in romance .”
“It could happen!”
“And that’s how I know I’m going to win,” Kakicuhi says with a crooked slant to his grin. “Sakura is a disaster. Love him, but he’s an utter disaster.”
Takanashi sighs, covering his face with both hands as he fights the urge to shake his head in disbelief.
Their chatter picks up again, some kind of argument about how one or the other is going to win and the reasons why and suddenly, he is so, so very tired.
“Y’know,” Anzai says after a moment of sitting back and watching the two of them go back and forth like a pair of yapping puppies. “I think you might want to change your mind about being so confident you’re gonna win.”
Takanashi peeks through his fingers as Kakiuchi squints, his tone high in confusion. “Uh, why? The dude can barely take affection, there's no way I’m losing.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat in surprise.
Lunch. It’s one of the normal things that happen in Furin. There’s no real set time, and honestly many of them don’t have it regularly—more interested in getting things with friends when the day is over and patrol is finished, but it’s still done. Sometimes on the roof with the second and third years, sometimes alone at your table, often at the cafe with everyone after a long day of patrolling or hard-fought win, occasionally, rarely with all the desks pushed together for some kind of classroom potluck.
There’s three bento boxes stacked in front of Nirei, his smile is crooked as he sets a different one in front of Sakura and Suo. Takanashi can see them — chicken fried rice mixed with veggies for Suo and fried rice balls with sausage and egg skewers for Sakura. There’s a cocktail of disbelief and amusement swirling in his gut at the fact they’re different.
Sakura won’t eat vegetables. Has hissed and scowled at any put on his plate when their class goes to Cafe Pothos. Suo doesn’t—he doesn’t have any preferences as far as Takanashi is aware, but it’s still. It’s a kind of care most people don’t go through.
(Often, the only person Takanashi makes meals for is himself and his girlfriend if they’re going to be hanging out. Bentos aren’t something he does every morning; not enough time some days, he forgot to prep something on others, but they’re things made with care all the same.
A deliberate act of caring; a sign of wanting someone to be alive and well-fed, to know this was created for them, that thinking about them is the only reason it was made—to remember their tastes and put your own little touches into it, all in hopes they’ll enjoy it and be happy.)
There’s a burn across the planes of Sakura’s cheeks, as he grumbles something Takanashi can’t hear. Nirei’s laughter is a peal, bright and attention calling as something is swiped from his own box. Suo is the quietest amongst them, a soft upturn to his mouth and eye half-lidded as he carefully adds more food from his own into Nirei’s. If Sakura is a cat that lazes about when he’s comfortable, Suo is the one that drops a dead bird at your feet.
There’s a thermos in the very middle of their bubble, three bowls stacked next to it that he watches in fascination as Nirei fills them before digging something else — something new, and that took time and Takanashi he. He wants to laugh a little, at the effort of it all, at the time is must’ve taken to think of everything; feels something a little sour that he has to push aside that the three of them for how much effort they put in to interacting with others will always be a bit closed off — from his bag.
They’re miso balls wrapped tight, Nirei’s fingers twitching as he frees them from their wraps. It’s fragrant. heavy in the nose. Seaweed, onion, daikon, what looks like tofu, too. Takanashi can feel his stomach rumble, a desire rising unbidden.
Ah, school needs to go ahead and end so they can patrol and eat. This is plain unfair at this point.
“Hey, Kakiuchi,” he starts, gaze still on the three of his classmates. “Who did you even bet for?”
“Kiryu, why?”
“Oh, dude,” Anzai says with laughter in his voice. “You’re definitely not winning.”
“No,” Takanashi says, “he’s not. There’s no competing with that.”
Tsugeura isn’t really sure how he managed to let their party split. Or even how the world has managed to make it possible. Brawns are his specialty—he knows this, knows it like the back of his hand and how far he can push himself until there’s a real risk—but he’s not dumb despite what people can think.
(He’s a muscle head and he can admit that with pride. There’s a joy in strength, in commitment, in having something to hold yourself to and keep with it. Especially so when there’s a reason behind it.
Tsugeura knows he’s a bit dense at times; he’s loud, and big, and isn’t the best at understanding or interacting with others but—still the people here have grown to understand him, to accept him, to help him in turn with others.
It’s why he wants to do so much. To push, and push, and push to keep protecting the places and people that mean everything to him.
He’s a bulwark; sturdy, unmoving, something you have to physically break if you want to get through.)
Mostly, though, Tsugeura is really trying to figure out how the world let this happen.
“Okay, okay,” Nirei’s voice is a wheeze, no doubt from the rough pavement and Tsugeura’s shoulder digging into his chest from where he’s hanging like a sack of potatoes. It was the easiest way to hold him and make sure they could see anyone coming regardless of the direction. “You’re gonna see a little dirt path on the right and then the place with the little fence is mine.”
Losing Sakura and Suo is like. It’s meant to be an impossibility, he's pretty sure. For one the three of them have a weird knack for knowing where the hell the others are and that’s—that’s too close to being borderline psychic or supernatural, or downright haunted and Tsugeura does not vibe with it .
Granted…when he thinks about it. He sneaks a look at what he can of his classmate. Nirei lost his shoe early into the scuffle, twisted his ankle a little after that, even now it looks swollen. It hadn’t stopped him from diving into the midst of everything like a man on the verge of either death or a breakthrough, and maybe it was dumb luck or the world deciding not to curse him with more clumsy misadventures, but he’d snatched up the prize from the enemy with only a couple more scratches and probably a frayed uniform for the effort before Tsugeura had managed to grab him and bolt. Could’ve been a lot worse considering.
With Nirei hurt, but successful, there’d really been nothing to stop Suo and Sakura from covering for them. Mostly Tsugeura is disappointed he’s missing out on seeing their grade captain go a little feral.
Nothing like a promise of a good brawl to bring out the brightest in him.
Ah, well, protecting their classmate has its own virtue.
He can feel Nire’s arms curled up tight against his back, the heat of him enough to make Tsugeura sweat, clutching their stolen prize as if it were gold.
“Fence?” Tsugeura questions, and thinks—small, decorative, garden, even as his muscles ache from running all the way here from what has felt like the other side of town. Adrenaline maybe? There’d been a few close calls when they’d first managed to dip.
“It’s just—it’s fine, just hop over I know you off all people can. Or just. Kick it! Whichever, it’s cool, I’ll fix it later Tsugeura-san.”
“Don’t you think you should be a little more careful?” It’s laughed out, bubbling from his chest as Tsugeura finally set his eyes on it. “You can’t go complaining when your chest hurts later. Not when you’re giving me permission.”
“Hah,” it’s almost pleading. “You could always put me down for a second?”
“This is quicker!”
Nirei let’s out a noise akin to a wounded animal, but considering he doesn’t have a sudden change of heart and press further alongside the fact Tsugeura can feel fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt, he considers it permission enough to speed up for the jump.
It hurts when he vaults over and lands, ankles twinging from the weight and action. Nirei’s groan is through hissed teeth and Tsugeura doesn’t doubt there’ll be a shoulder shaped bruise across his chest at some point later.
“Alright, there we go,” Tsugeura says half convinced if he didn’t sling an arm around Nirei’s shoulders when he sat him back on the ground, that his legs would give out on him. Nirei’s body tends to do that to him during stressful situations Tsugeura has found. Nothing a little training wouldn’t fix, and since Nirei has started up with Suo it has been occurring less often, but considering today a bit longer wouldn’t hurt. “Why’d you think it’d be better to come back here first instead of heading back?”
“Oh,” it’s a soft thing as Nirei unlocks the door for them, body warm pressed against his side. It’s the first time he’s noticed so many things about the other boy. How warm he runs, the weight of him — not muscled like Tsugeura himself, but it’s there. A soft build, definition growing slow and steady —, how his smile is different. A little thing, a shy thing, lashes casting shadows over his freckles. “Only people that know where I live are Sakura-san and Suo-san.” His laugh is a soft thing too as he looks up and gives Tsugeura a crooked grin. “And you too now.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” it’s hummed out and Tsugeura is stuck thinking on it for a moment even as he helps Nirei onto a stool by his counter. His smile is still small, even as he looks up at Tsugeura from the cradle of his arms, fingers loose around the body of a flag. “Everybody thinks we’re gonna head back to the school to win right away, so I thought it’d be better to make ‘em sweat a little while we rest and wait for Sakura-san and Suo-san to catch up. It’ll be easier to plan with all of us together.”
He. Hadn’t even considered that.
This whole capture the flag thing—it had started as just a little game between the first years. Then, well… it got out of hand as things are wont to do when it comes to the students of Furin. Somehow the older classmen had been roped in as well, though with some restrictions in regard to some . Now that Tsugeura gives it thought, it makes sense.
To catch their breath and plan together. Not everyone from 1-1 was on the same team just as it was the same for the other classes. And knowing how everyone operates, planning might not even be enough to get past some of their more tenacious peers.
“Guess we’re in luck then,” Tsugeura says, voice tinged with laughter. “You know just about everything about everybody. If somebody could figure out the best way to take on the others it’d be you.”
“As if! Suo-san’s the one who’s really good at stuff like this, I’m just good at the note taking.” it’s huffed out, but there’s a grin stretched across Nirei’s face, his voice going a little softer. It’s the first time Tsugeura has noticed that, too. “Still, it’s pretty fun to think about. Figuring out things like this, getting to talk about and discuss how different everyone is and how they—how they make it work, I mean. It’s fascinating with all the different styles and habits everyone has.”
“You’re better at that than I am,” Tsugeura tells him, honest as he leans against Nirei’s counter. It’s decorated all over—the house. Knick-knacks and items, spare pens and books in every corner, snack containers and handwritten notes appearing just as often. It feels like Nirei, and that’s an oddly comforting thought.
Nirei gives him a smile, all teeth. “You say that like you aren’t one of the coolest people I’ve got to meet.” and he says it so—easy, as if it’s as common to him as breathing, all before bulldozing through it for something else as if Tsugeura isn’t left with a sudden warmth under his skin that isn’t from the heat, a surprised noise caught in his throat. “I had originally planned to try and make somethin’ when we got here but well,” he laughs and sticks out the leg with a swollen ankle. “Doesn’t seem like the smartest decision for me to be moving around too much. So, Tsugeura-san, what do you say about being my hands this time?”
It isn’t fair how expectant Nirei sounds. That Tsugeura even picks up on it. But that says something, he thinks, about being around the other boy and always being aware of him. Of having to be in ways he doesn’t for many other classmates or people.
“Ah,” it comes out high, embarrassed as Tsugeura gives him a lopsided grin, a hand ruffling the hair at the back of his neck. “I’m not… I’m not really much of a cook.”
Sure, he might make a meal plan for every week but that’s mostly done through the help and support of his parents and some of the simpler ones he manages on his own. Still, for the most part in terms of cooking… he’s still in the learning stages in a couple of ways.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Nirei starts, and his smile hasn’t lessened, has softened if Tsugeura is looking at it right. “But you’re good at listening when you wanna, and I’m here I’ll help you.”
Tsugeura huffs, more fond than annoyed as he turns the sink on for them both. “Alright, what’re you trusting me with then? Can’t promise it’ll be the greatest in the world, but I’ll do my best and that’s more of a virtue than anything else, yeah?”
It makes Nirei snort and it helps with the odd build up of nerves Tsugeura is dealing with. “Soboro,” the other boy says, “I know you usually stick to a meal plan, but I thought since this is pretty good in protein and I know you’ll need the fuel in a couple hours for the rest of the game I thought it’d be okay?” He says it as if it’s something easy, expected even for someone to try and figure out a meal that fits with his goals. It has Tsugeura staring at the wall as Nirei bulldozes on like nothing. “If not we can figure out something else for you!”
“You,” Tsugeura starts, and can’t finish, are really something . “Really do think of everything, don’t you?”
Nirei shrugs. “I don’t know about that, but — this is stuff I can do so I figure, why not? Y’know?”
He can’t say he does. Tsugeura huffs again, a little softer, a little quieter. “So, what am I grabbing?”
Nirei’s smile stretches wide as he lists off the different things Tsugeura has to grab out of the fridge, and already Tsugeura is sure this is going to take him much longer than most people.
“Just soboro, huh,” he says in amusement as he looks at what’s set out on the counter, washing what he’s been told to while Nirei has gone and set the rice to start cooking.
“Well…I have to hide some veggies somehow cause otherwise Sakura-san won’t even think about touching it.” His huff is fond even as Tsugeura catches him rolling his eyes. “Besides, he’s got a big appetite so I figured some soup and wrapped onions wouldn’t hurt him. And if he doesn’t eat ‘em it’s more for us!”
“Never took you for the type to plan for finding ways to get more of something for yourself.”
“Hardly! If Sakura-san eats it, that’s a win since he’s doing something good for himself, and if he doesn’t eat it I’ve still managed to convince him to eat the main thing, and I have leftovers.”
“I guess that’s fair.” There’s no waste at least. “What do you want me to start with?”
Nirei hums reaching for different things set out on the counter in front of himself—carrots, burdock, green onions, tofu, different seasonings—or to place a bit closer to Tsugeura; chicken breast, more onion, eggs, garlic, ginger, and different cooking oils and such. “You’re gonna mince the chicken for me first, alright?”
There’s more set to the side, but considering it’s closer to Nirei’s side of the counter Tsugeura’s pretty sure he’s taking over whatever he’s making out of it.
He hums. “A step at a time then?”
“Yeah, don’t wanna overwhelm you if you’re not used to this.”
It’s a bit funny watching Nirei sit straight on his stool as he focuses on his own section. He’s quicker than Tsugeura expected, a focus to him that’s cute. Nirei bites at his lip, Tsugeura is learning, when he’s giving something his attention. It’s quiet aside from their work — a rhythmic thump of knives meeting the cutting boards, Nirei dicing carrots before moving onto slice bits of burdock into thin ovals all as Tsugeura breaks down the chicken until his classmates gives him a smile and a soft, just like that! See, you’re doing better than you thought.
It makes him warm in a way Tsugeura knows can’t be compared to a workout or being out in the sun. It makes something in his stomach clench, a sudden, unfamiliar waver to his hands as all he can do is hum a stilted agreement.
“Talk me through it?” Tsugeura finds himself saying even though he can’t figure out why. “While you’re working on that. I can keep up, you don’t have to wait for me.”
And it — it makes Nirei laugh, a loud thing that fits the grin on his face. “Look at you, confident already. Guess I should expect that though, you’re always pretty good at stuff once you get going.”
(Tsugeura thinks he might be experiencing a delayed symptom of heat stress from everything today. Has to be with how—warm he feels.
It doesn’t stop him.)
Nirei keeps talking to him. Instructions on what to do next—slice the onion but keep the green and whites separate, chop the garlic, grate the ginger. Talks him through how much seasoning he adds to marinate everything, I like a little more ginger, personally, but that’s a good amount too. You’re doing just fine Tsugeura-san . All as Nirei works on his own set of tasks. He’s moved on from what Tsugeura has learned will go into the soup, his movements steady even as he continues to talk.
There’s a new sting now, a prick at the edge of Tsugeura’s eyes as his nose curls from the way Nirei is creating rings out some larger onions. There’s a thing of flour and a pack of bacon not far from him. “While you let everything sit, you’re gonna scramble the eggs until they’re nice and crumbly.”
“Don’t people usually cook the meat first?”
Nirei shrugs. “Less cleaning.”
“Fair enough.”
It’s not long before Tsugeura is setting the eggs to the side to start cooking his chicken as Nirei puts the finishing touches on mixing the seasoning for his rings. It smells vaguely sweet, he can smell honey, and not for the first time here Tsugeura feels excited for the end product of it all.
“Do you want me to go ahead and like, plate stuff?” He asks when the timer for the rice finally goes off and Nirei has let the onion rings marinate for a bit.
“Oh, yeah you can go ahead. Suo-san texted me that they’re almost here.” It’s hummed out as Nirei leans to move the meat into a separate bowl the same way he’d had Tsugeura do the eggs so he can start cooking the rings. “He said he was a little behind Sakura-san.”
“I honestly expected them to get here a bit quicker,” Tsugeura admits as he puts everyone’s portions together. The two of them weren’t known for being slow in well, anything. Doubly so when it came to fights or being separated from a part of their trio.
Very seriously Nirei turns to him and tells him: “Sakura-san needs enrichment — today is like a buffet. He’s gonna gorge himself regardless of if anyone tries to stop him.”
“Oh,” Tsugeura says, and genuinely can’t even comprehend how to respond.
“I’m mainly just hoping I won’t have to get Suo-san to help me make him sit still in a chair again if he’s hurt.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this Nirei-kun, but he’s never going to make it easy for you two.”
Nirei sighs. “It’s just another day of meeting him in the middle, really. It probably doesn’t look like it, but he is better about it.”
There’s a reply on the tip of his tongue cut off by the equivalent of what sounds like a battering ram beating down Nirei’s back door. Beside him, Tsugeura catches the way Nirei’s eye twitches, how his fingers twitch around the chopstick he was using to flip the food in the pan.
Tsugeura’s own hand inches toward a spare pot hanging from a rack, despite the almost defeated recognition that crosses Nirei’s face when the door slams open.
His classmate takes a breath, long suffering as he twists around in his seat, to hiss, “Did you seriously just kick my door! Sakura-san, I told you where the key is!”
It’s so—it’s nonplussed. Annoyed certainly, but not unexpected if the glare on Nirei’s face is anything to go by. It makes Tsugeura snort. “Guess he’s getting the smallest portion.”
“Fuck.”
Sometimes, Suo feels like being a little selfish.
(Not often, not nearly as often as other people — a virtue maybe, or perhaps a lack of something to be selfish for. Maybe that’s what makes the new desire, the urge to be so — curious, contentful, strange, a long lost piece sliding into place as it returns home—exhilarating.
It’s a thin line to walk. To allow one’s self to indulge in that which has piqued their interest, to allow it to fill their thoughts, to allow something long thought not to exist to stir; lift its head to scent the air, let whatever had earned it’s ill-advised attention to stay instead of scaring it off, feel the first creeps of greediness sink its fingers in him. To allow all of that without it getting out of control. Keep it leashed tight despite the risk of it not being enough.
To hunger and want for more than can be allowed. To sit on the cusp of what is proper, right, typical , and never over step. Engaging with others only in ways they’re comfortable, that they’ll understand. Suo has never had to consider how difficult that really is for others until recently.
Perhaps, then, it’s a good thing he is only ever rarely selfish.
A smaller part of him, uncertain and nervous in ways he isn’t used to, worries his selfishness is too much; rapacious in its newfound interest, all consuming in its focus, a thin line bound to snap and show the worst of him.)
Only a little. Stealing mere moments of time for something private, to study and indulge in his new found habit of watching. Of understanding—of wanting to help someone develop and reach above that which they believe themself capable.
He can feel the smile on his face. The soft twitch to it, so so very different from the small, placid one that fits familiar and typical on his face when interacting with his peers. Welcoming still, certainly, but not as playful, as intended to help him pick fun with them. It’s more open, vulnerable if he had to bare himself open.
“You’re getting better at pairing things,” Suo says, something warm tinged in it, approving and proud. Held between his thumb and forefinger is a small thing of mochi. Soft orange in color, not unlike the sky above their heads, the tangy sweetness of mango still coating his tongue. His eye closes as he goes for a second bite, as his imagination goes to work recreating the way he knows Nirei made everything the same way he knows the back of his own hand.
Can imagine the bend to the other boy’s brow as he concentrates, always so focused when it comes to doing—anything for others. Sticking his nose into business he shouldn’t, writing in his little book all the undoings of everyone else around him without even realizing the chaos he could sow; when he sets his mind to doing what he can, when he takes the time to care for others.
The way his brows knit, teeth bared when pushed down , something within his core croons, tangled deep in the very center of his being, desirous in its appreciation, claws kept clipped lest they sink in too deep. And Suo thinks of that too. Of the progress his classmate has made — of staying in formation and steady on his feet, that stubborn determination to keep coming back no matter how much he’s beat down. Thinks of the pride he feels at being one of the first people to coax it out of him, to let it steep and develop at its own pace. Just like we thought he could, it says and Suo wants to savor it, to appreciate it and watch it unfurl. What a sight he’ll be.
There’s a huff as Nirei laughs, a cup carefully held between his hands. Even in the slowly disappearing light of the sun and even with the cup hiding some of his face, Suo can see the shy twitch to the other boy’s mouth. Can feel the heat of his body from where he’s sat just a foot away. “I don’t know… The snack I brought for the black tea you had me try last time was pretty disastrous.”
“Just a bit,” Suo says, laughter trickling into his tone as he thinks back to their last ceremony. “You’re learning though, and this is certainly an improvement.” That hadn’t been on Furin’s rooftop, rather Nirei had wanted to visit a nearby park. That time it hadn’t started as just the two of them; he’d invited several other of their classmates, but sometimes, just sometimes Suo gets lucky when they end up busy. All the same… as nice as the sandwiches Nirei had made were, they weren’t fit for that particular blend.
His head tilts a little closer to Nirei, his smile easy and eye lidded as he takes the other boy in. How the sunset casts shadows across his face, makes the crows feet of his eyes stand out when Nirei laughs himself. “You think? Even with a good snack aside… I think I just like this one more. Bitter stuff just isn’t for me, I’m pretty sure Suo-san.”
Suo hums, looks at the slowly unfurling tea leaves in the gaiwan. “It’s not for everyone,” and even as he reaches for their kettle of hot water to start the next round of steeping he can’t help but think of what kind he wants Nirei to try next. Today they’re trying jin xuan, and it’s not really a surprise to him that Nirei likes it more. “They’re not as sweet, not as comforting to some. But this kind is delicate, a little creamy. Sometimes, when I brew it just right it can remind me of milk. Like I said, comforting, in a way.”
White next, he thinks as he watches Nirei take a small sip after Suo pours him some more. Can see the heat from his drink start to color his cheeks. Feels something in him settle at the satisfied hum that escapes the other boy.
“You know at first I thought you were trying to trick me when you said we were trying milk oolong.” Nirei tells him and Suo just gives him a smile and a murmured it’s not my fault you fall for things so easily . It makes the other boy huff, but considering his smile returns when Suo pushes the plate of mochi closer to him there’s no reason to worry in the first place.
There are a couple reasons Suo likes doing this with him.
It’s not the biggest, but one at least is so he can take care of the other boy. Watching him has become almost second nature to him, whether it’s to keep him from too much of the trouble that seems to follow them all, that they occasionally run headlong into, or simply to observe him for his own fun doesn’t really matter.
It simply is, now. It’s the same for getting to make him happy through treats. Suo could eat them, certainly, but there’s something warm that curls up content and settled in his chest when he makes Nirei smile. Something—new, warm as a fever and spreading fast that slinks its way through the cracks of him and festers when he can get Nirei to relax. Hungers without any sign of satiation when he manages to witness nerve-tight muscles unwind, relaxed as though he’s comfortable with Suo alone; as though there’s no threat that could get to him; that there’s one not even present.
Sometimes, Nirei makes him feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothes, a quiet beast, a polite animal, but a creature all the same. Terribly, Suo knows the other boy wouldn’t care, would find something within him large enough to love and bring it home.
(That’s the thing about Nirei. He looks at people with bare, unrepentant awe in his eyes, a chest full of love and he — will give everything he has. Hardly ever thinks of the little pieces he gives away as if it’s as required as breathing.
That’s just the surface of him, too.
Suo doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say it aloud, often doesn’t even like to dwell on it for too long in the safety of his own thoughts, but he likes sharing this — this little moment, this ceremony, and experience with Nirei because it makes him think of the other boy.
Nirei is like a well loved and well experienced tea that develops over several rounds of brewing. Parts of him, the heavier notes of him are always present first—his fear, his issues of self-worth and belonging, the awe he feels towards others. It takes time and a steady enjoyment for the subtler notes of who he is to appear from his tenacity, his quiet contemplation of the people around him, his desire to take care of others, his snark, even.)
Sometimes, Suo wants to be a little selfish.
“Nire-chan!” All he can do is muster out a sigh, head lolling just a little more to glance at the ruckus going on a little ways away with the rest of their friends on the rooftop. They’re clustered around the dart boards and the slot car track. They’d even moved the ping pong table, too. Kiryu is padding over, an easy grin on his face as he plasters himself across Nirei’s back, chin hooking over the other boy’s shoulder. “C’mo-on, you said you’d be my partner when we got everything set up. If you flake on me now I’ll really feel like I’m being dumped.”
He’s selfish enough to wish that the two of them could’ve stayed in their own little bubble a little longer, or at least that they’d been able to tune out the noise.
There’s a burn to Nirei’s ears, his laughter is a little high; nervous, apologetic, but his smile is warm and excited, his eyes bright. “As if anybody would dump you Kiryu-san.”
“Always a boy after my own heart,” Kiryu sighs out, his arm coming around Nirei’s front to squeeze for just a moment. “Still, remember that I called dibs and there’s snacks on the line if we can one-up Tsuge-chan and Sakura-chan.”
Nirei huffs, a hand coming up to pat at Kiryu’s arm. “What about proposing something a little more interesting?” There’s a twitch to Nirei’s smile, all teeth as he turns his head towards Kiryu. “Why don’t we make it a game of triples? I don’t think Suo-san would mind joining our team, and we already know how to rope Sugishita-san into playing.”
“My,” Suo finds himself saying, amusement unfurling in his chest at the grin Nirei gives him. Feels something eager thump in his chest at the way the other boy makes a claimant — playful and childish and so utterly innocent in it —- of what he’ll be doing. “I didn’t know you had it in you to bully others. Who am I to tell you no, Nire-kun?”
Yes, sometimes Suo feels like being a little selfish; he’s going to take each and every little piece of what Nirei shares of himself and clutch it tight, treasured and enjoyed as more facets of who he is develops for Suo to observe.