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Mayoi can’t see his hands in front of his face, and yet he still knows he’s managed to squeeze between a pair of large, forgotten speakers. He can tell because he can feel the rough screens on their fronts, and neither one budges at all when he leans against them, crouched on the floor as he is. The air is heavy with dust, too; only years of acclimation don’t leave Mayoi sneezing and coughing.
Still, in the trap of the stage, it’s secluded and quiet. Cold and dark, but quiet. No one is here today. He can be alone.
He runs a hand through his hair, undoing his braid. He’s a madman. He knows it. He wishes he weren’t. He wishes he could be normal, but he’s not. He’s a psycho and a pervert and God knows what else. It’s only because he’s a coward that he’s not much worse.
He’d wanted to watch Shinobu in aikido practice. Really, he had! And he showed up to the Dojo despite his misgivings! He’d thought he had a hold of himself. He thought his own mind would give him a break today.
Here was the thing, though. The class had been practicing throws today. This had meant watching Shinobu throw people. Mayoi knew, from long, torturous hours at the pool and from ‘ninja training’, that his Chieftain’s preference for baggy clothes and his sweet, youthful face belied a lean, strong body that would probably serve him well in actual combat. He also knew that Shinobu was reluctant to actually hurt other people, hence him taking up aikido also.
He had also watched Shinobu be thrown several times to the (nice, soft, padded) floor. And part of him, the part he hated the most, had run away from him.
He’d thought, I could easily throw him like that. He’d never see it coming, either. He trusts me. He lets me follow him around all day. He calls me -dono and lets me touch him. Throw him to the floor. Pin him down. Rip his clothes off. Touch his cock, grab his ass, do it right here right now, in front of everyone, the technique is fresh in your mind–
No. Never.
He’d gotten up and left, grinding his teeth, but as quiet as possible, while he was sure Shinobu was distracted. He knew Shinobu wanted him there, only wanted Mayoi to be proud of him, in his own sweet, innocent way. What he hadn’t realized yet was that Mayoi was a worse monster than featured in any ghost stories.
Shinobu deserved someone else. One of the other RYUSEI, or, Hell, even Hiiro or Aira. Anybody else would be a better match. Mayoi? Mayoi was a ticking time bomb, and his fuse was shorter on some days than others.
He should text Tatsumi. Ask him if he’d take some confessions today. Ask him for a flogging. Scratch that last part. Tatsumi would sooner flog himself. It’s terrible today. He’s terrible today. He should be alone today, until he can reset. He can only pray tomorrow will be better.
He runs his hand through his hair again, pulls hard at the very end of the strands he has caught. He can feel little hot pinpricks of pain, the hairs coming off, the little pulls on his scalp. Sharp. Grounding. He pulls a little harder. There… There.
He doesn’t have scars on his arms, but the little white lines crawling up from his ankles to nearly his knees testify to a time when there was a much more dangerous way to accomplish this same thing. To a time when he’d been truly alone.
He sighs softly.
His ears prick. The doors to the auditorium heavily open and close. Someone comes up onto the stage. Light, quick footsteps, like someone well-adjusted to moving quickly and quietly.
Mayoi holds his breath.
“...Mayoi-donooo?”
Mayoi doesn’t answer.
“I know you’re in here somewhere.” More gentle tread above his head.
Well, no one ever thinks to look in here, clearly, Mayoi thinks, and then the trap door opens. He freezes up, but Shinobu audibly drops down and then sweeps the trap with the flashlight on his phone.
Mayoi is clearly not as well-hidden as he thought, because his eyes sear as the beam lands on his face.
“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your eyes, just–” Shinobu actually turns the flashlight off and tries to pick his way over to Mayoi in the dark.
“Turn it back on, you’ll fall,” Mayoi hisses, all in a rush.
“Okay, okay, hold on,” Shinobu answers, audibly a little startled, and turns the flashlight back on, though aimed more at Mayoi’s torso than his face.
There’s a heavy silence as Shinobu stares at him. There’s still some distance between them, take or give five shaku. Mayoi knows what he must look like, sitting here in the dark, wild-eyed, yanking at his own scalp. He probably looks insane. It’s more than appropriate, because he is insane.
Shinobu finally tilts his head a little, frowning.
Mayoi shakes his head. “Leave,” he snaps, and then stops, starts again, tries to gentle his voice. “..I’ll be alright.”
“It’s not like you to break your promises,” Shinobu frets, voice so soft, and Mayoi laughs, short and sharp. Shinobu sets his jaw, chin jutting, and continues on. “I mean. I’m mad. You promised you’d be there today, and. You left.”
“...It was for your own good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean. I’m a monster.”
“No, you aren’t, Mayoi-dono.”
Mayoi cackles , the sound bouncing off the walls. Shinobu, brave boy, unshakeable shinobi, plants his feet.
Mayoi wipes his eyes. “You can only think that because I’ve fooled you.”
Shinobu furrows his brow.
“You don’t see what a horrible, sick animal I am.”
“You aren’t an animal, Mayoi-dono, you’re my friend.”
“I’m. You have no idea what I was thinking while watching you.”
“I know you’d never hurt me.”
Mayoi looks up at Shinobu, face blank, blinking. Shinobu glances aside, swallows, stares Mayoi in the eyes, and opens his mouth. “I–I’ve been talking to Kazehaya-dono.” Traitor. … No. No. Shinobu deserved a fair warning. Tatsumi was just looking out for Shinobu. Of course. After all, I taint everyone I touch. “He says you have a few problems, which, heh, I could have guessed,” he rubs the back of his head, “but you have also stuck by my side and encouraged me when I needed it most, and you’ve always looked out for me. And. If you really do want to hurt me,” Shinobu spreads his arms, “we’re down here, alone–”
Mayoi shakes his head so violently he makes himself dizzy. “No. I won’t. Don’t tell me to.”
“See?” Shinobu smiles, not as bright as he is capable of when truly happy, but smiling all the same.
Mayoi is still and silent, and then says, “..I’m sorry.” He hangs his head low.
“It’s okay. Come on.” Shinobu offers his hand.
Mayoi cringes back, knowing immediately that Shinobu touching him would burn like sunlight, like holy water.
Shinobu’s tentative smile drops. “...Mayoi.”
Instead, Mayoi shakily rises to his feet. “Let’s just. Let’s go. I promised Mashiro–”
“No, you didn’t, I texted Mashiro-dono and he said you told him about aikido practice today.” Fuck . “Please. Just trust me as much as I trust you.”
“Heheheheh. You shouldn’t trust me.”
“Well, I do. Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
Once again, Shinobu offers his hand. Mayoi hesitates, and then takes it. Shinobu has surprisingly soft hands. No, not the hands of a warrior, but warm, strong hands. He glances at Shinobu’s face, but in the dark, out of the beam of the flashlight, it’s hard to see.
Mayoi feels his face burn, but squeezes Shinobu’s hand as he leads the way.
When they emerge through the trapdoor, the Auditorium is still blissfully empty. The afternoon sunlight streams in through the windows, casting their long shadows on the floor. Shinobu turns his face up into the sunlight, and his eyes glow golden. It takes Mayoi’s breath away. What did a wretch like him ever do to deserve this?
“...I’m glad we’re friends, Chief,” Mayoi says, softly.
Shinobu turns to him for just a moment, turns away, face pink. He then murmurs something under his breath that even Mayoi’s practiced ears have trouble picking up.
“Come again?”
Shinobu reddens more severely, and then finally turns to Mayoi. “Yeah. We’re friends. Uh. Also. I kinda. I like you.”
“I like you too, Chief.”
“No, I,” Shinobu’s voice drops, “I like-like you.”
“I know?” Mayoi tilts his head, slightly confused.
Shinobu covers his face with his hands, and then uncovers his mouth to say, “Okay. I know this is the worst time, but if I don’t say it now... Ihaveacrushonyou.” He tries to hide in his hoodie a little, almost burrowing like a small animal.
Mayoi takes several seconds to process this, and then his brain just stops as all the blood rushes to his head. “Are you sure about that?” he asks.
“Y-yes. Yes, I’m sure.”
“I’m too old for you.”
“You’re not that much older than me.”
“And I don’t know if you’ve noticed–”
“You have issues. I know. It’s okay.”
“But I have a horrible evil side that tries to come out all the time.”
“At worst, you’re a little weird sometimes.”
Mayoi shakes his head. “Those are just the thoughts that make it out. At the Dojo, I thought about actually hurting you.”
“And then you didn’t do it,” Shinobu argues. “You ran away instead. …You were running from you, not me,” he says, with the light of realization.
Mayoi chuckles, soft and sad. “..Still. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran away. I’m sorry I made you fall in love with me.”
“Well, I’m not sorry,” Shinobu huffs, cheeks puffing out a little. “You’re the guy I like, and the one I want. If you don’t want me back,” he swallows, “just say it.”
“That’s the problem. I do want you,” Mayoi sighs, “and the devil in me knows how to make it hurt.”
“You’re a lot stronger than he is,” Shinobu counters, squaring his shoulders, hands on his hips. “I would know. I’ve seen it.”
Mayoi pauses, looks Shinobu up and down. “...This isn’t like in shounen. I can’t go into my mind and defeat my own insanity, and neither can you.”
“Yeah. I know. I don’t want to fix you. I just think you’re cool.” Tiny, stubborn Shinobu looks him in the eyes. He has the most beautiful eyes, bright and even fiery at times, like burning coals. Mayoi feels a throb of adoration, a surge of warmth. Before he really realizes what he’s doing, he’s bending down, taking Shinobu’s face in his hands, mouth slightly open–and he stops, and they stare at each other.
Shinobu wraps his arms around Mayoi’s neck and, with a little too much enthusiasm, tries to kiss him head on. Their noses bump painfully, and they both pull back for a moment, but Shinobu just laughs, abashed and clear and ringing like a bell, and tilts his head a little and drags Mayoi back down to his level, and they kiss.
Shinobu has rough, bitten, warm lips, and as Mayoi puts his arms around him, he can feel that Shinobu is indeed much more solid and compact than he looks. God, Mayoi loves him.
“...You’re really pretty, Mayoi,” Shinobu says, face red.
Mayoi boops his nose. “...We should get out of the Auditorium.”
Shinobu wrinkles his nose. “...Come back to the Dojo? Help me practice my throws?”
“You know, I really would like to be thrown around.” Mayoi kisses Shinobu’s head.
“Yeah, but you should learn some throws too. All ninjas have to know martial arts, Mayoi-dono.”
“Mmmm…Alright. Anything for you, Shinobu-kyun.”