Chapter Text
“Hey, Chihiro!”
Chihiro turns around at the familiar voice to find Hiyuki waving at him from the front gate, her bag hanging over her shoulders and her unruly black hair looking as messy as usual under the freshly-blooming sakura. She seems to be attracting quite a few double takes from other students by wearing the boys’ uniform, but honestly, it suits her. Chihiro waves back at her, giving a quick glance over the crowd before beginning to make a beeline in her direction.
“Hey, Hiyuki. How was your break?” He asks her as he approaches, and she visibly wilts.
“Absolutely awful. I can’t believe Sojo-sensei assigned us that much homework for the holidays…” She whines, running a hand through her hair. “I finished a few extra practice essays, though, and the integers homework was easy, so it wasn’t so bad. Spent a damn few hours training, too.”
Chihiro whistles lowly, impressed. Hiyuki is the kind of person who remains so disciplined and dedicated to everything she touches that it’s hard to believe she’s not already plotting to take over the world. It’s probably her stellar personality that holds her back, he thinks.
Ugh, I wish I brought my hairbrush today. I didn’t realise today would be so windy. Chihiro’s probably got a comb, though… Hiyuki’s thoughts add, and Chihiro digs around his bag for a moment before pulling out a comb and holding it out to her.
Hiyuki takes it with a laugh. “Perfect, thanks, Chihiro. Can always count on you to read my mind.”
Chihiro sighs. “You know, you could just text me before school next time. It’s surprisingly more reliable than telepathy.”
“Nah, it takes out the fun.” She says, beginning to brush her clearly knotted hair with a striking amount of vigour. “Well? What about you, then? How was the break?”
“Same as usual,” He says vaguely, shrugging, “Helped Dad out, did my homework, that sort of thing.”
“Checks out for a nerd like you– Oh, and look behind you, it’s nerd number two!”
Tafuku joins the two of them, sporting a big grin on his face and slightly bigger size uniform than the one he was wearing at the start of winter break. Chihiro gives an acknowledging nod as he takes in the muscle mass that still peeks out from the creases and slim cut of the boy’s uniform.
“I see you’ve been working hard, hey?” Hiyuki says, elbowing her friend in the gut– who barely even flinches, choosing to send her an amused look, “Can’t believe they still have a uniform in your size!”
Tafuku laughs, pushing Hiyuki away as she begins to aim half-hearted punches to his chest. “C’mon, man, I was in the dojo basically the entire break. Finished up all my homework last night– do you reckon they’ll be able to tell?” He cackles, slapping his bag that bulges from the seams.
Chihiro snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’d better watch out– Samura-sensei has a sort of sixth sense for those sorts of things. Did you even read the novel we were assigned?”
Tafuku squints. “What novel?”
Oh, no, was that the one that Mogeta ate?
Hiyuki bursts into laughter, Chihiro alongside her, as she slaps her friend on the back. “Oh, you’re screwed!” She cackles to Tafuku, seamlessly joining the flow of students heading into the school grounds, “You’re absolutely done for!”
Chihiro quickly follows her, with Tafuku by his side. Together, as a small group, they head towards the shoe lockers. Everyone seems to be in a hurry– they want to find out their classes, of course, and then immediately try and appeal to their teachers to swap or change out to be with their friends. But with the way Hiyuki’s laughter is loud enough to echo around the courtyard, he knows that even if they don’t share classes, he won’t be lacking in her company.
The new year has brought in a lot of fresh faces, Chihiro notes, recognising only a select few of the students that hurry past him, some with petals in their hair and others with armbands and stacks of papers in their hands– those must be student council, rushing around for the last things before the entrance ceremony.
In a moment of curiosity, he tunes in on a few thoughts of the people around him, and is suddenly overwhelmed by the rush of anxiety and excitement.
He stumbles a bit and clutches his head as it begins to pound, immediately regretting letting his senses spread so wide in the middle of a crowd full of teenagers. He’s done it before, and with varying results– but everyone here is so full of high-intensity emotions that he really should have thought about before pulling a stunt like that.
Tafuku’s there to steady him the moment he stumbles, a supporting hand at his front and back– ensuring he doesn’t topple right onto his face on the first day of school in front of the entire student body. The very thought has him cringing in embarrassment.
“Woah, Chihiro, you alright there?” Tafuku asks, giving him a worried look. “Is your psycho-sense going haywire?”
Chihiro straightens, giving his friend a flat look as he ruffles his hair back into place. “I thought I told you not to call it that.”
Tafuku smiles and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, you know… your reaction when we do is kind of funny.” He admits, and Chihiro can’t find it in himself to stay mad when the headache has already begun to fade.
“Fine, then. If you keep it up, I won’t bring in any of my homemade melon-pan for you anymore.” He warns with a falsely-serious glare.
Tafuku pales. “I swear, I won’t ever–”
“And who the hell do you think you’re tryna have a go at, huh?!” Hiyuki’s voice cuts through the hubbub of the crowd, and everyone goes silent at the sounds of what appears to be a serious confrontation.
Chihiro and Tafuku, in simultaneous horror, look ahead of them to Hiyuki, who is standing furiously under the student council’s vice-president and halfway through giving him a piece of her mind.
“Wait, when did she—“
I’ll show you exactly where you can shove your precious ‘girl’s uniform’, asshole! Her thoughts echo, and though Chihiro agrees with her, this is not the time, place, or person to be trying to pick a fight with right now.
Sazanami Soya, after all, is very powerful, very influential, and very popular. As Hiyuki’s senior in the Judo club, he’s perfectly capable of disallowing her entry to the school-based tournaments, and with the first big comp coming up in just over a month, Hiyuki cannot afford to throw her chances away arguing with her upperclassman.
“Hiyuki, leave him alone!” Tafuku yells, grabbing her from under her shoulders and pulling her away from the close proximity she held to the vice-president even as she squirms to get free.
Chihiro catches a glimpse of Sazanami’s face as he shuffles through the crowd to catch up with Tafuku, who seems to have dashed ahead without him noticing. Good idea, honestly, because Hiyuki’s fists are clenched and her mind is screaming.
“As a young woman, you should be learning to contain your emotions,” Sazanami says dryly, looking her up and down, “How many guys have you turned off with that… ugly personality of yours?” He asks, his eyes full of hatred and his voice dripping with contempt.
“I’ll fucking turn off your life support, you piece of–”
“Woah, hey, Hiyuki,” Chihiro interrupts, clamping a hand over her mouth, “You’ve got a month and a half left. Don’t spoil your chances now.” He reminds her sternly, channelling a bit of telekinetic power to stop her from wriggling about. “So just back off, okay?”
“You should listen to your friend, you know,” Sazanami says, and Chihiro catches the stray thought that adds, You useless, filthy bitch that tells him just how close Hiyuki is to losing her chance at competing. And also how much he wants to punch the vice-president’s face in.
“C’mon, ‘Yuki, let’s go,” Tafuku says, giving her a little tug, and Hiyuki finally relents, relaxing against Chihiro’s psychic and Tafuku’s physical bonds. She shrugs off Tafuku with a nasty scowl directed towards Sazanami before storming off inside.
Chihiro doesn’t need psychic powers to know what everyone's thinking. Hiyuki is terrifying when she’s mad. In a way, he supposes, it’s one way to ensure that no-one puts in the effort to piss her off. But, well. He knows he’s going to be the one to pick her up from the office after school, because disrespecting a student council member, let alone Sazanami, isn’t a good look on the first day.
With half the student body watching them, the trio shuffle towards the shoe lockers and begin to pick theirs– though they missed out on the spots on the end they had last year, they manage to find a three-in-a-row that sits just two slots above the bottom of the shelves.
“Man, I miss the old spots already,” Tafuku says, slipping off his shoes, “I don’t want to have to bend down all the time.”
“Isn’t sumo literally just bending over for other men?” Hiyuki guffaws, slamming the door to her shoe locker shut. “A little squatting’ll be good for you.”
Chihiro looks up from where he’s tying his shoelaces and gives her a displeased look. It’s not even nine o'clock in the morning, and she’s already cracking jokes that should be told at least after eleven. As punishment, he uses a little bit of energy to tug her locker door back open.
She closes it with a huff and a characteristic roll of her eyes. “Stop that.” She clicks her fingers down at the boy beside her, “Oi, Tafuku, hurry up.”
“Hold on, I’m just tightening the buckle…”
Tafuku finishes tying his shoes quickly, and Chihiro offers him a hand, pulling the heavier boy up with a grunt. Tafuku just laughs at his struggle as he rights himself mostly by his own strength.
“Easy, ‘Hiro. Pull any harder and you might lose your arm,” He chuckles, rolling his shoulder as he points towards where a large group of students are gathered around the class assignment posters tacked to the walls. Chihiro feels the introvert in him die just a little more inside. So many people, and most of them he barely even recognises, are climbing over the top of themselves just to get a look…
“Hey, w-wait, Hiyuki, we’re coming too!”
—And Chihiro is being pulled along into the sea of students with his friends anyway. He sighs. It’s times like these that he wishes he lived somewhere less… lively.
Arriving at the posters with Tafuku’s giant-like frame is easier than Chihiro anticipated. Perks of being friends with two of the tallest kids in school, Chihiro thinks mildly, as his friends seem to make a little gap to escort him through so that they can all see the boards. Of course, a little nudge from his telekinesis on people’s clothes seems to encourage people to give them just a little more room.
Chihiro peers at the class lists, scanning for his name. Not 2-A, nor 2-B, and Hiyuki’s in class 2-C but he can’t seem to find his name there, either…
“Oh, hey, Chihiro!” Tafuku exclaims, delighted, “We’re in the same class!”
Chihiro turns his gaze towards where his friend points to class 2-E, his own name sitting squarely in the middle only a few places below Tafuku’s.
“That’s good, but Hiyuki won’t be happy with–”
“Oh, this is rigged!” Hiyuki exclaims, staring at the paper scandalised. “Why the hell do I have to be in a different class?!”
“Sucks to suck…” Chihiro snickers, his eyes drifting over the list. He recognises almost all of the names, and even some faces come to mind. But there’s one name that he can’t quite place a finger on, and that’s–
“You’re in 2-E with Sazanami Hakuri?! Maya, you poor soul!” One of the girls next to him squeals, pushing her friend’s shoulder with a laugh. “Quick, you need to appeal that!”
“Ugh, kill me now.”
“You gotta be ready to run out of that classroom, girl.”
“Right? Like he’s a total, full-on delinquent. I heard he stabbed someone last year…”
“No way!”
“Oh, and apparently he had a fight with a teacher!” Someone else chimes in, and Chihiro suddenly feels rather uncomfortable.
“Woah, really? That’s scary…”
“I feel so bad for vice-president Sazanami… his brother is such a disappointment. They’re so different!”
“Hey, you fucking losers shouldn’t speak just based on some rumours!” Hiyuki yells, and Chihiro takes that as a sign that she’s getting bored. He sidles away from the crowd and heads towards the staircase. His classes should all be on the second floor this year, so maybe he should get there early and reserve himself a window seat.
“Scary… I think she’s in my class…” Some guy whispers conspiratorially as Chihiro shuffles past him.
“But don’t you think girls like that are kind of hot?” Someone else says, and it only makes the uncomfortable feeling in Chihiro’s stomach grow. He can hear their thoughts just fine, he doesn’t need to hear them say their opinions aloud, seriously…
Chihiro, being all too distracted, doesn’t notice the person coming towards him before it’s too late. He slams quite suddenly into a shoulder and he stumbles back with a grunt, barely managing to stay upright as the other person jolts, startled.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!” The person exclaims, and Chihiro looks up to see a guy– second year, judging by the badge– with pastel-pink hair and three moles resting neatly under his eye. He’s tall, too, but at this rate Chihiro would wager that at least seventy percent of the guys at this school are taller than him. It hurts, really, because Chihiro isn’t actually short.
Chihiro shakes his head. “No, sorry, it was my fault,” He insists, mind automatically clicking over to read the second-year student’s thoughts. It’s a nasty habit, that sort of invasion of privacy, but he hasn’t quite found the motivation to curb it. Curiosity and cats, and all that.
A psychic? No, he couldn't be…
Chihiro’s jaw snaps shut, his eyes widening. Did he just– how did they know? Did Chihiro accidentally respond to the thoughts instead of words? But even if he did, usually it’s not enough for people to notice. No, that couldn’t be it.
The boy is staring at him now, and there’s something in his forceful gaze that has Chihiro feeling incredibly anxious. He’s suspicious of Chihiro, and that’s something Chihiro has never experienced before.
“Um—“
“Sorry,” Chihiro says quickly, ducking past the boy without another word, his heart racing.
“Hey, wait, hold on—“
But Chihiro isn’t interested in sticking around. He hurries away through the crowd, ignoring the boy’s confused thoughts drifting behind him. The crowded space is starting to really grate on his nerves and there’s a foreign feeling of terror that slowly creeps up his spine— he’s starting to get a little overwhelmed.
Tafuku makes it to class only a few minutes before the bell rings– not like classes actually start. The first double period is off because of the entrance ceremony. It looks like only a few people have decided to skip, which is surprising. In the classroom it’s just him, Kazane, and some other guy who Chihiro thinks is on the volleyball team, but he’s not entirely sure.
Tafuku raises his eyebrows as he zeroes in on Chihiro. “Oh, so you did make it out. Hiyuki and I couldn’t find you after she calmed down enough to think.”
Chihiro shrugs, leaning back against his chair and planting his palms on the lacquered wood of his desk. “Sorry. Didn’t feel like sticking around.”
Tafuku gives him a betrayed look. “But you left me.”
“Okay?”
“Not okay, because guess who had to drag Hiyuki off from a fight for the second time this morning?” He says exasperatedly, “She’s totally off her game today. D’ya reckon it was seeing Sazanami this morning?”
“I dunno,” Chihiro says, beginning to rock on his chair. Hiyuki’s behaviour is barely predictable normally, let alone when she’s mad.
“But you’re literally a mind-reader!”
“Doesn’t mean her thoughts are coherent,” Chihiro points out, “If she’s not thinking things explicitly, then I can’t really pick up anything more than expletives.”
Tafuku sighs, irritated, as he settles down in the seat next to Chihiro. “I guess…” He says, but clearly he’s not happy with the half-hearted excuse. Chihiro isn’t really bothered, though, and entertains himself by spinning back and forth on a single leg of his chair.
“You’re gonna fall.” Tafuku warns, eyeing him warily.
“You’re telling me that?” Chihiro says incredulously, making Tafuku’s pencil case float for proof. Tafuku slams it down with a groan. Chihiro fights down his satisfied smirk– the powers he’s got are fun and all, but they’re in actuality not all that strong. Good for getting people to like him (which he doesn’t actually care about anyway) and maybe a party trick or two, but he doesn’t exactly want to flaunt them to gain attention.
“If you don’t try and be a little more subtle, you’re gonna get scouted by the military one day,” Tafuku grumbles, “And then you’ll be sorry.”
Honestly, aside from taking over the smithy when his father gets too old to do it, Chihiro was planning on it. Might be a little boring and uptight, but of course the government has a secret psychic military that would be happy to have a telepath. His telekinesis, no matter how weak, is just the icing on the cake. Both of his uncles once had jobs with the military, so why can’t he?
“And? Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”
Tafuku gives Chihiro a serious look. “I’m not joking. They’ll probably torture you until you can lift cars, Chihiro. Stay in school and work hard like the rest of us.”
Chihiro gives a noncommittal shrug, swivelling on his precarious chair setup to look out the window. The sakura trees around campus are shedding their petals like crazy, and the clumps of baby pink whirl around the courtyards in the breeze. The funny little not-quite-tornadoes they make are mesmerising to watch.
“And, hey, did you happen to bring the novel for literature? I think Mogeta ate it–”
Chihiro, without looking up, unzips his bag and grabs a book out of it, throwing it haphazardly in Tafuku’s direction.
“-and I was– Oh, thanks.”
“Nice catch.” Chihiro says idly, watching as a man in a crisp, charcoal suit steps out of a car that had just pulled up in front of the side gate. He’s accompanied by what looks like two bodyguards, when Chihiro leans towards the window to get a better look. Must be a rich student’s parent, then.
Chihiro leans even closer, curious–
“Woah, watch out!”
– And shrieks as the chair falls out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the floor.
Tafuku, from somewhere above him, snorts loudly. “Told you.” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Chihiro groans, clutching his head. He'd managed to clip it on the edge of the desk as he went down– just his luck. He should have remembered that in high doses, curiosity was in fact lethal to cats.
After a long two periods of sitting on his phone and talking at Tafuku while his friend scrambles to finish homework, the third period eventually rolls around.
Idle chatter fills the classroom as they wait for the teacher to show up. This year, Chihiro didn’t even bother checking who their homeroom teacher is. He doesn't really care all that much, to be honest. There have been other things on his mind recently, like study, baseball practice, and– perhaps the most concerning– his father’s new boyfriend.
Chihiro hasn’t met him yet, but there is something about the suddenness of the relationship that makes him feel a little ill. He knows his mother had died some thirteen years ago– he has barely any memories of her and cannot remember her face through his own eyes. His father moving on shouldn’t bother him so much, but it does.
His father looks happier than he has in years, and Chihiro’s obviously elated, but he can’t help the nagging feeling of jealousy that wells up inside each time his father mentions how this man makes him feel like he’s content, at home, whatever. He loves that his father is seemingly freer than ever, he really does, but he just wishes–
“Raise!”
–He wishes that he could make his father feel happy like that, too.
“Bow!”
Is he not enough? It’s stupid of him to think like this, he knows. If he told his father this, too, the man would for sure sit him down and tell him how much he loves Chihiro, et cetera et cetera. Chihiro knows it’s different. It’s different. And yet–
A wave of hushed whispers falls over the classroom. Chihiro abandons his train of thought as he glances up at their teacher for this year, standing in front of the blackboard with his name neatly printed in chalk behind him.
“Good morning, class 2-E. My name is Yura, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher this year. I expect you to learn in the same capacity as you expect me to teach, so I don’t want any of you going out and causing trouble before, during, or after class.”
The class nods nervously in unison. They’re obviously intimidated– after all, their teacher has two matching piercings on each of his eyebrows and a tattoo on his hand. It’s not normal, especially not for a teacher, of all professions... Chihiro and the rest of the class watch, wide eyed, as the man adjusts his tie and opens his laptop on the podium.
“Alright, raise your hand and give a ‘here’ if you want to be marked present. If you don’t, I’ll gladly mark you absent. First, Asahi.”
“Here.”
The list goes on, slowly, as each student raises their hand, and Yura-sensei gives them a careful once-over. Everything about their homeroom teacher seems a bit weird, and it’s not just the rather unconventional appearance. His voice, the way he holds himself– Chihiro would pin him more for a womaniser than a teacher. Is that a bad assumption to make? Probably.
Ugh, would today just end already… I have places to be.
Not atypical of a younger teacher to think. Chihiro wonders what Yura-sensei actually enjoys doing in his free time. Managing crime syndicates? Yakuza hitman?
He shouldn’t make assumptions based on appearances, but, wow. The guy has earrings, too. Chihiro files away a note to check the other faculty members’ opinions on this guy, because there’s gotta be people out there with many things to say about the rather unusual ‘Yura-sensei’.
“Oh, I know this one. Rokuhira Chihiro,” His teacher says, but before Chihiro can even raise his hand, his teacher’s eyes have already fallen on him.
Chihiro raises his hand anyway, but he’s nervous at eye contact. “Here.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Rokuhira-kun. I have a feeling you’ll cause quite a bit of trouble this year, considering the incident at the gates this morning, hmm?”
Chihiro clicks his tongue under his breath. He thought at least he and Tafuku might’ve gotten away unnoticed… seems like that isn’t the case. With the way his teacher is giving him an intrigued look, he has a feeling that this year is going to be rough. Way to make a first impression, huh.
“Right, next,” Yura-sensei says, clearing his throat, “Sazanami?”
The temperature in the room lowers noticeably. Everyone’s eyes are drawn to the boy sitting in front of Chihiro as he anxiously raises his hand. From such a short distance away, Chihiro can see how it shakes, fingers twitching ever so slightly on a trembling palm.
“H-Here,” Sazanami says, meekly.
Chihiro probes, just a little into Sazanami’s mind. Sue him, he’s curious! Everyone seems to be talking about him, and that attitude, when compared to his brother’s, is so different that he can’t help but want to know more. He focuses on Sazanami’s aura, just enough to scratch the surface of his mind, and…
Huh?
Chihiro tries again, reaching into Sazanami’s mind, this time further. There has to be something, something he can grasp–
There’s… that’s not right, he thinks, eyes widening as he stares down at his desk. It– there isn’t nothing, but it’s like his mind is… suppressed? When Chihiro goes into it, it’s like he’s forced to view Sazanami’s mind with a bag over his head. He can feel the vague outline of it, but he cannot tap into it like he can with every other person he’s ever met.
Well then. He can certainly agree with his classmates that Sazanami is scary, but for his own entirely different reasons.
“Thank you. Next, Suzuki…”
Hakuri lowers his hand, and the temperature of the classroom returns to normal, but Chihiro is still floored. His mind races a mile a minute as he tries to figure out what could possibly cause that phenomena in Sazanami’s psyche. Maybe amnesia? Depression? Or maybe a personality disorder… Now there’s a thought.
There’s not enough evidence to figure out what’s wrong with his classmate. He doesn’t even know Sazanami at all, outside of those scarce rumours he heard this morning. Something inside him itches to know more, to figure out just what is wrong with his mysterious classmate.
He’s jerked back to reality as everyone else begins to pull out their textbooks and notebooks, and frantically does the same. Tafuku gives him a strange look, but doesn’t say anything.
“Alright. We’re starting this years’ mathematics course nice and easy with quadratics, but it’ll quickly slip away from you if you’re not working hard at it. Don’t be afraid to ask questions.”
A quick peek into the thoughts of the people around him has Chihiro thinking that everyone’s too intimidated by Yura-sensei to be brave enough to ask questions during lectures anyway. Oh well. If Chihiro doesn’t get it, he’ll just pester Hiyuki after school.
The lesson begins, and Chihiro tosses away his concerns and focuses on the simultaneous voices of Yura-sensei and his mind as he jots down the teachers’ examples from the board.
After the middle two periods, lunch, and the final lesson of the day, the bell rings, freeing the students of Kamunabi High from the perpetual torture of lessons. Chihiro sighs, defeated, and leans back in his chair. Everyone else begins to pack their things, Tafuku included.
Chihiro glances at Sazanami in front of him, who hadn't moved an inch. He’s still staring up at the board, a pencil in hand– though he’s not writing anything. Chihiro worries he’s fallen asleep, and leans forward to check. Not like he can read his mind, after all…
“Hey, you alright?” He asks, tapping Sazanami on the shoulder.
He does not expect for the boy to jump so violently that he nearly falls out of his seat. He turns around, his eyes wide and looking close to tears. Poor guy. Chihiro didn’t realise he struggled with English that badly.
“Oh! I-I’m sorry, what…”
“Sorry for startling you,” Chihiro says, internally hoping that Hakuri wouldn’t just immediately run away, “Just wondering if you’d spaced. Class finished two minutes ago.”
Sazanami avoids eye contact like the plague, fingers digging into his white, knitted school jumper. “O-Oh,” He mumbles, “T-Thanks.”
He turns around without another word, and Chihiro desperately wants to talk with him again, to see what makes him tick, what makes him just that tiniest bit different from everyone else. He opens his mouth to speak again, but then Sazanami stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly on the floor, and Chihiro loses his courage.
And so he watches, with regret and anxiety, as Sazanami exits the classroom with his bag under his arm and wearing a perfectly blank expression.
“Woah, you’re looking pretty stricken there, Chihiro.” Tafuku says, shooting Chihiro a mild look. “Got a crush?”
Chihiro shoves away his own class materials into his bag as he shakes his head. “No,” He says, the empty feeling of Sazanami’s aura weighing heavy on his heart, “I think there’s something wrong with Sazanami Hakuri.”
Tafuku shrugs, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. “I thought that was common knowledge; the guy’ll switch faces at the drop of a hat, and I heard he’s part of some gang around here. Dunno why you’re so interested in it.”
Chihiro stands up with his own bag, but pauses as he walks past Hakuri’s desk. His eyes linger over the scratches over the edge, the fingernail-spaced clawing in the wood.
“You comin’? Hiyuki’s going to the gym with us today, so she’s not gonna be happy if we keep her waiting.”
Chihiro tears his eyes away from the desk, ignoring the ill feeling in his stomach. “Yeah, let’s go.”
“Hey, Dad, I’m home!” Chihiro calls into the house, taking off his shoes at the entrance. He shuffles into the house, keeping a wary eye out down the corridor in case his father has planned to jumpscare him on his way in.
Chihiro finds his father at the kitchen table, adjusting his tie in the reflection of the oven glass.
“Oh, welcome back, Chihiro! How was your first day at school?”
“W-What are you wearing?” Chihiro says, horrified. The only time he’s ever seen his father in a suit is in pictures, and for any sort of formal event that didn’t involve deaths or marriages, his father saw it fit to wear a crumpled t-shirt, a ratty blazer and cargo pants to such events.
So now, to see his father in such elegant formalwear…
“Is there… something I should know?” Chihiro asks, concerned.
Kunishige blanches. “N-No? I’m just getting ready to go out…”
Chihiro’s worries instantly dissipate. Right. “You didn’t tell me,” he says, crossing his arms. “What time are you getting home? Is he driving you?”
“What are you, my mother?”
“Dad.” Chihiro warns, but it’s getting hard to maintain his poker face. Teasing his father usually ends up with one of them cracking– but Chihiro is good at maintaining his composure, and Kunishige’s currently-nameless boyfriend is a topic he thinks he’s allowed to be more vicious about.
“He’s picking me up in twenty minutes!” Kunishige finally admits, burying his head in his hands, “And then we’re going out for dinner and we’ll probably be back around eleven!”
Chihiro drops his scowl, giving his father a bemused grin. “Alrighty, Kunishige.” He says flippantly, watching his father’s face pale at the use of the given name, “Go and have fun. I’m going to study.”
“Really? On the first day?” Kunishige gapes as Chihiro turns to head upstairs to his room. “How brutal is your teacher?!”
Chihiro groans in frustration as he skips up the stairs, two at a time, “Yura-sensei is the absolute worst.”
There’s a sudden pause as Chihiro hops onto the landing, but he ignores in favour of assuming that’s the end of the conversation.
“W-Wait, who?”
Chihiro closes the door to his room and immediately throws his bag on the floor with an exhausted sigh. Homework can wait for a little bit– right now, he wants to get out of his sweaty uniform and into something a little less stifling.
So, with all the energy an exhausted teenager can muster, he showers, towels himself off and gives his hair a quick comb over that won’t last, but it’s the thought that counts, he thinks, as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. He looks the same as usual, save for a little soggier. He checks over his face for blemishes— dotted with acne on his forehead as usual, and the lack of change has him sighing in defeat.
He tugs the comb away with his powers, letting it fall on the edge of the sink. Telekinesis is fun and all, but using it when he’s tired makes him feel a little queasy.
Some would argue that the possession of psychic powers is a blessing, a guaranteed entry ticket into total world domination (or self-fulfilment). Chihiro knows that telepathy is only as effective as the amount of people around him. He can move a pencil case with his mind but, like everyone else, has to use a trolley to move a filing cabinet. He can tell what people are thinking at a glance— but so can other people, all without using a lick of power.
He’s not all that impressive, and he’s… well, he’s supposed to be.
There’s something missing, he knows, something that isn’t there that he needs. He’s got family, he’s got friends, he’s been bestowed a keenness for the supernatural and a happy life— and still he wants more.
“Greedy,” He mutters, leaving his reflection in the bathroom to wallow in its misery whilst heading downstairs himself.
His father is long gone by the time he makes it to the bottom step, and the house is eerily quiet. It seems to have dimmed, too, without the light of another person. He shrugs off the hollow feeling in his stomach and takes a single, deep breath. Time to make dinner.
He said he was going to study, and really, he will. He’s just not feeling it right now. Maybe a home-cooked meal can fix that stupid sense of displacement that seems to follow him like a plague the moment he’s alone.
But maybe, Chihiro thinks, pulling out the chopping board and knife, It’s just loneliness.
The thunk of a knife on wood creates a solitary, empty rhythm that echoes around an even emptier house. He brushes the carrot head to the side, and readies the knife again.