Chapter Text
Yoshida Hirofumi had priorities. Some might call them questionable, but he preferred to think of them as deeply held principles.
Right now, his most sacred principle was getting home in time for his webcomic update.
Fourteen minutes. That was all he had. Fourteen minutes to speed-walk through the gauntlet of slow pedestrians, avoiding any unnecessary human interaction.
This wasn’t just about impatience, it was about survival. Because if he was even one second late, the comment section would ruin his life. There was always some absolute menace, some unhinged degenerate who had their keyboard primed and ready to drop the worst kind of spoilers.
He could already see it now:
"BROOO THAT ENDING WTFFF."
"HE REALLY DID THAT???"
"I can't believe she DIED LMFAO."
No punctuation. No remorse. Just suffering.
His stomach grumbled, but food could wait. Honor was at stake. Dignity? He never had much to begin with. All that mattered was making it home in time.
And that meant taking the shortcut.
The woods weren’t the most welcoming place, trees packed tight, the air thick with damp earth, and the occasional mosquito with an attitude problem, but they shaved a solid ten minutes off his walk. And right now, ten minutes was the difference between enlightenment and soul-crushing betrayal.
So he ran.
Feet barely touching the ground, weaving between trunks like a shadow, fast, quiet, efficient. A tragic loser with nothing left to lose.
Except for the minor issue that he could feel a persistent itch on his cheeks, so he knew his extra eyes were out for a peek again.
Not that it mattered. He’d gotten used to it. The real concern was whether his favorite character survived the cliffhanger from last week.
He could already see the break in the trees, the sunlit main road beyond. Just a little more…
“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”
Hirofumi barely landed before the scream hit him full-force, snapping him out of his tunnel vision. Right there, sprawled on the pavement, was another guy from school. His uniform was the same, but the way he was positioned, half-propped up on an elbow, legs awkwardly twisted as if to shield himself, eyes wide enough to let the wind pass straight through, that was not normal.
Neither was the way his fingers trembled against his collar, nor the way his chest rose and fell like he was preparing for death itself.
Oh.
Hirofumi’s eyes met the guy’s shaking gaze.
Right. The extra pair of eyes.
A beat of silence stretched between them. A breeze rustled the leaves behind Hirofumi, the last echoes of the scream still bouncing off the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a car honked.
Then Hirofumi ran.
He didn’t think, his body moved before his mind could catch up. One second, he was standing there, staring at the horror frozen in the other boy’s face. The next, his feet had launched him forward, tearing down the road, the world blurring around him.
His bag slammed against his back. His breath came out in ragged bursts. He had to go. Had to get away.
Behind him, someone shouted.
“H-Hey! Wait-!”
Hirofumi didn’t stop.
He didn’t look back.
He couldn’t.
The air was thick, heavy, clinging to him like a second skin. His insides twisted. His chest felt like it was about to burst, but he pushed himself harder, faster, until the trees thinned out and familiar rooftops came into view.
His neighborhood. Home. Safety.
Or maybe not.
What if that guy talks?
The thought hit him like a slap to the face, and suddenly, the world was tilting, spinning, his legs almost giving out beneath him. He barely made it to the front door before wrenching it open, slamming it shut behind him, twisting the lock with shaking fingers.
Upstairs. His room. Now.
He stumbled up, two steps at a time, practically throwing himself inside before locking that door too. His back hit the wood, his legs buckled, and he slid down until he was sitting on the cold floor, chest heaving.
His heart was a hammer in his ribs.
The room felt too small. Too dark.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, but it didn’t help. It was still there. The image.
Wide, horrified eyes. The open mouth, mid-scream.
How much did he see?
Hirofumi clenched his jaw, gripping his hair. His hands were still trembling.
What if he runs his mouth?
What if the whole village finds out?
What if his father-?
The thought snapped through him like ice water. No. No, no, no. He couldn’t-he wouldn’t-
A shiver crawled up his spine, bile rising in his throat.
Hirofumi was exposed.
For the first time in years, he was truly, completely exposed.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
He stayed like that, curled up on the floor, staring at nothing, listening to the frantic drum of his own heartbeat.
One minute. Five. Ten. An hour.
The room remained silent, the world outside moving on as if nothing had happened.
But something had.
Miri crouched at the edge of the forest, fingers brushing through damp grass and fallen leaves. His keys had slipped from his pocket somewhere around here, he was sure of it. The flashlight from his phone didn’t help much, but he was determined. His mother would kill him if he lost another set.
A rustle.
Miri barely had time to glance up before something, someone, shot out of the trees like a startled animal.
His breath lodged in his throat.
The boy landed right in front of him, wild-eyed and mid-sprint, but Miri barely registered that. His focus was trapped, paralyzed on the stranger’s face.
Dark as the night, eyes wide in surprise. But not the normal two. Too many. Blinking, shifting, watching him from places they shouldn’t be, his cheek, just beneath his collar. A glint of gold in the dim light, unblinking, unnatural.
Miri's gut seized, a wave of instinctive terror gripping his limbs before his mind could make sense of what he was seeing. He staggered back, feet slipping against the dirt, and his throat betrayed him.
A scream tore out, shrill, shaky, completely unintentional.
The boy’s head snapped toward him, and for a second, their eyes met. A beat of silence stretched between them. A breeze rustled the leaves behind him, the last echoes of his scream bouncing off the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a car honked.
Then, he ran.
The boy bolted as if the very air had turned to fire around him. Miri, still trembling, scrambled to his feet and took off after him.
“H-Hey! Wait-!” The words barely left his mouth before he realized there was no way he’d catch up.
The stranger moved like a phantom, too fast, too desperate, kicking up dust and vanishing down the street before Miri had even properly started running.
He skidded to a stop, panting, hands on his knees as he tried to piece together what the hell just happened.
The boy was gone. The road was empty. But Miri's heart still pounded, the image burned into his mind.
That wasn’t normal.
A sharp knock on the door.
“Hiro-chan? Wake up, sweetheart.”
His mother’s voice was gentle, but it cut through the fog of his mind like a blade. Hirofumi groaned, barely peeling open his eyes. His body felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry. Limbs heavy, throat raw, skin burning yet somehow cold at the same time.
His dreams still clung to him.
Laughter.
Then fear.
Then stones, sharp and cruel, pelting his skin.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He could still feel their eyes, their whispers, their accusations curling around his neck like vines. And in the gaps between it all, there was someone else. A figure, tall and godlike, watching him. Not with anger. Not with fear.
With suspicion.
Then a woman’s decapitated head rolled towards him.
The door clicked open.
“Hirofumi?” His mother’s voice held a note of concern now. “You’re burning up, aren’t you?”
Her cool hand pressed against his forehead, and Hirofumi let out a weak sigh at the relief. He hadn’t even noticed he was shaking until she smoothed his hair back.
“You’re not going to school like this,” she said, her tone final. “Just rest, okay? Try to get up soon and have some breakfast. I’ll bring you medicine.”
He wanted to protest, say I’m fine , I can go , act normal, but he didn’t have the energy. His chest was still tight, the weight of yesterday’s ill encounter pressing into his ribs like a stone.
Instead, he nodded weakly.
His mother lingered for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else, but eventually, she just sighed and left the room.
The door clicked shut.
Hirofumi turned over, pulling the blanket up to his chin, his body curling in on itself. His heartbeat was still too fast. He could hear it in his ears, pounding, relentless.
What if it wasn’t just a nightmare?
What if it was a warning?
He buried his face in his pillow.
Sleep. Just sleep.
Maybe if he was lucky, this time, the dreams wouldn’t follow him.
There was a boy in this school who looked like a dodomeki and Miri just had to find him. He spent the entire next day scanning the halls, trying to spot the boy from the forest. His heart still jolted every time he replayed the image in his mind, the eye on the cheek looking at him before the guy even turned his head towards Miri. It had to be real. He wasn't losing his mind.
And the uniform… He was sure of it. The same as his. That meant the boy went to this school.
So where the hell was he?
By the time the final bell rang, Miri was beginning to doubt himself. Maybe he’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe the kid just went to a different school with a similar uniform. Maybe-maybe he should just let this go.
But the thought made his stomach twist. He wasn’t just going to ignore something like this.
So the next day, when Miri rushed out of his class for a quick pee break, his gaze landed on someone sitting on one of the seats by the hallway windows in the class right next to his.
And froze.
There. Tall. Slim. Bangs that covered his eyes.
And those eyes.
The moment the lunch bell rang, Miri slipped through the hallway traffic, dodging groups of students, and stepped right into the classroom next door. His heart pounded, excitement and nerves tangling together, but he didn’t hesitate.
The boy was right there, at his desk, looking half-dead and half-checked out.
Miri slammed his hands down on the desk with a thud.
"Aha! Found you!" he announced, ignoring the way some nearby students turned to look. He leaned in, voice dropping.
"What the actual fuck was that the other day???"
The boy flinched when Miri slammed the desk, but only for a second. His head tilted up, and Miri caught a glimpse of his eyes-completely normal. The normal amount, no gold glint or anything. Just plain, unreadable black eyes staring at him like he was the one acting weird.
"Uh," the boy blinked. "Do I… know you?"
Miri narrowed his eyes. "Don't play dumb." He leaned in, lowering his voice, but it still came out as an urgent whisper-shout. "You were in the forest. You jumped out of nowhere, scared the hell out of me, and-"
His chest tightened as the image resurfaced, clear as day. He swallowed.
"And your face was like filled with eyes…. like so many of them! Like a dodomeki!"
The boy frowned. Not in a caught red-handed kind of way, but in an I have no idea what you're talking about kind of way. It was a damn good act! And Miri wasn’t buying it.
"You must have seen a bug," the boy said flatly.
Miri blinked. " What? "
"Bugs," the boy repeated, serious as ever. "Weird-looking ones. Maybe a big one. Or it was a trick of the light, and you freaked out."
Miri recoiled slightly. "What kind of bugs look like people’s eyes?"
"You tell me," the boy shot back, folding his arms. "You're the one who saw it."
Miri let out an exasperated sound. "Dude. I know what I saw. That was not a trick of the light. Or any bug. It was-" He gestured vaguely, struggling for words. "It was eyes, or-or too many of them, or something wrong."
The boy didn’t flinch. Didn’t even twitch. He just looked Miri dead in the eye and said, "Nope. Bug. You must have seen a bug on my face."
Miri gawked at him, utterly baffled.
This guy was either a terrible liar, or an insanely good one.
Miri gripped his head like he was about to tear his hair out. “Oh my god. You’re serious. You’re sticking to that?”
Before he could reply, another voice cut in. “Oi, Yoshida! We need one more person for basketball. You in?”
Miri turned to see a student standing by the door, spinning a ball in his hands.
Without missing a beat, Yoshida replied, “Yeah, I’m in.”
“Wait-what? No, hey-” Miri started, but Yoshida was already standing up, like their conversation never happened.
Miri watched, incredulous, as Yoshida casually walked away. His fingers twitched at his side, but before he could chase after him, he blurted out instead, “I’ll wait for you at the school gates after school, Yoshida!”
Yoshida didn’t turn around.
Hirofumi’s guts were still reeling from the weirdo coming onto him like that. His head vibrated with the aftereffects of handling the whole thing like a pro, or totally, completely terribly. He couldn’t tell.
He had very well expected to be confronted at school, but even after taking the previous day off to calm his nerves and come up with one or several lies, he felt underprepared. And yet, somehow, the whole interaction had been less of a shit show than he anticipated.
On the way to the basketball court, Honda elbowed Hirofumi lightly. “That weird cult kid trying to recruit you?”
Hirofumi blinked. “What?”
Honda snickered, “Sugo. Sugo Miri. His family’s, like, into some weird stuff. Cult shit.”
Hirofumi raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”
Honda shrugged, “I dunno, just what people say. His parents do all these weird ceremonies, and they don’t let him eat certain foods or whatever. He’s always acting strange, like he’s in his own world.” Honda spined the ball on his finger. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he starts passing out pamphlets soon.”
Hirofumi hummed, deep in thought.
Great. So if this Sugo kid ran around telling people he saw some freak with too many eyes, no one would believe him anyway.
For now, Hirofumi was safe.
He just had to avoid him as much as possible.
Miri rocked back on his heels, arms crossed, staring out at the sea of students leaving the school gates. His foot tapped against the pavement, light at first, then more insistent as the minutes dragged on.
He checked his watch. Four-fifteen. That bastard was late.
Miri had waited five minutes. Then ten. Then fifteen. At twenty, he let out a sharp breath, rolling his shoulders. Maybe he's just slow. Or maybe he got caught up somewhere?
Then a thought crept in, unwelcome but obvious: Maybe he ditched me.
His fingers curled into his sleeve, jaw tightening. That little-
A gust of wind blew past him, carrying the laughter of passing students, the chatter of friends heading home together. None of them paid him any mind. They never did. He felt a twinge of something unpleasant in his chest but shoved it aside.
"Fine," he muttered under his breath. "If you're scared of talking, just say so."
Still, he didn’t move. He couldn’t let it go just yet.
He waited a few more minutes, eyes flicking toward the school building, toward the road leading out. No sign of Yoshida anywhere. Just a whole lot of nothing.
Eventually, with a final huff, Miri adjusted his bag on his shoulder and stomped away. His frustration followed him the entire walk home, curling in his stomach like a knot that refused to loosen.
Miri stormed into the house, barely kicking his shoes off before heading straight down the hall. His mother called something from the kitchen, probably asking why he was late, but he ignored her, his mind still stuck at the school gates, still stuck on Yoshida, still stuck on that thing he had seen.
He beelined for the library.
The room was tucked at the far end of the house, past the shrine room his mother kept pristine. The wooden doors creaked slightly as he pushed them open, revealing shelves stacked high with old books. His family’s collection of folklore, myths, and spiritual guides stretched back generations; some of the books were older than his grandfather.
He flicked on the dim overhead light, casting long shadows across the room. Dust floated in the air. The scent of paper and aged ink surrounded him.
Miri scanned the shelves, fingers brushing over familiar spines. Yokai encyclopedias, spirit guides, books on warding techniques... He yanked one open, flipping through the pages frantically. Then another. And another.
His eyes darted over inked sketches of spectral figures, stories of kami disguising themselves as humans, demons with blackened tears, yokai with too many eyes. Anything that might explain what he had seen on Yoshida’s face.
He sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, books stacking up beside him. Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the house grew quieter. The pages blurred together, but he kept going, sifting through centuries of superstition like he was hunting for a missing piece of himself.
He didn’t realize how much time had passed until a voice broke the silence.
“Miri-chan.”
He startled, whipping around. His grandmother stood in the doorway, her warm but knowing gaze settling on him.
“Did you forget dinner?”
Miri blinked, disoriented. His legs were stiff from sitting too long. His uniform was still wrinkled from where he’d hunched over the books.
"...Yeah," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I got caught up."
Her lips quirked in amusement. "Your mother won’t like that."
She turned to leave but hesitated for a moment, glancing at the scattered books. “Looking for something in particular?”
Miri hesitated. His throat felt tight. The words hovered on the edge of his tongue, but…
"...No," he said finally, closing a book and standing up. "Just reading."
She didn’t push. Just gave him a knowing smile.
"Come eat before the food gets cold."
Miri nodded, but as he followed her out of the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was onto something. He had to find an answer.
Miri had never considered himself the chasing after people type.
But here he was.
For two days straight, he tried to catch Yoshida, only for the guy to vanish like smoke every single time. It was like he had a sixth sense for Miri’s presence, ducking out of classrooms before Miri could step in, blending into crowds with an ease that should’ve been illegal, conveniently getting very invested in conversations with classmates whenever Miri was within earshot.
The first time, Miri thought it was a coincidence. The second time, he figured it was bad luck. By the third time, he knew he was being dodged.
And it was pissing him off.
It wasn’t just that Yoshida was avoiding him, it was how effortless he made it look. Miri barely got the chance to say a word before the guy was already slipping through his fingers.
And now, on day two of this ridiculous game of cat and mouse, standing in the middle of a bustling hallway, Miri had to ask himself: Was it worth it?
He leaned against the windowsill outside his classroom, arms crossed, watching Yoshida disappear around the corner like he hadn’t just seen Miri coming.
Maybe… maybe this was a lost cause.
Maybe he should… Stop?
The automatic doors slid open with a soft chime, letting in the cool night air as Miri stepped inside. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sterile glow.
He was here for one thing and one thing only, instant noodles. His parents were out late, and his sister had made some weird vegetable stew that smelled like feet. And unfortunately, the instant noodle cupboard had been emptied out already.
Miri turned down the aisle, eyes scanning the shelves, when he noticed someone at the drinks section.
Tall. Slim. Bangs long enough to cover his eyes.
Miri stopped in his tracks.
No. Freaking. Way.
Yoshida stood in front of the refrigerated drinks, casually looking through the selection like he wasn’t the same guy who had been avoiding Miri for weeks. Out of uniform, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, hands tucked into his pockets, he looked… normal.
Miri had the overwhelming urge to turn around and pretend he never saw him.
Then Yoshida reached up to grab a bottle, and, as if sensing Miri’s hesitation, immediately turned his head.
Their eyes met.
So, without thinking, Miri grabbed the first thing his hand landed on and stared at it like it contained the meaning of life.
The item? A bottle of vitamins for senior citizens.
A beat of silence.
Miri could feel Yoshida looking at him. Judging.
“…You taking supplements for back pain or something?” Yoshida finally asked, tone flat.
“Maybe.”
A pause.
“You’re sixteen.”
Miri scowled, putting the bottle back like it offended him. “Yeah? And? Maybe I care about my calcium levels.”
Yoshida just blinked at him, then casually grabbed a milk drink from the fridge. As he turned toward the counter, he hesitated.
“…The store’s got half-off on melon ice cream.”
Miri frowned. “What?”
“Thought you might want to know.” Yoshida paid for his drink and pocketed the change. Then, without another word, he strolled toward the exit, leaving Miri standing there, stunned.
He wasn’t sure which part of that interaction threw him off more, the fact that Yoshida had actually spoken to him, or that he had randomly shared information about ice cream sales like they were friends or something.
Miri looked at the counter. Then at the exit.
Then, without fully realizing it, he grabbed a cup of melon ice cream and took it to the register.
Slightly confused. Slightly triumphant.
And, against his better judgment, maybe just a little bit hopeful.
The school hallways were quiet, save for the occasional distant chatter from students on cleaning duty.
Miri just wanted to be done with this. He was halfway out the door, trash bag in hand, mentally preparing himself for the awful smell that awaited near the dumpsters.
And then he nearly walked straight into someone else carrying a trash bag.
Miri took a quick step back, blinking.
Yoshida.
The guy looked just as surprised to see him.
They both stopped, standing face-to-face like two deer caught in headlights.
“…Move,” Miri muttered.
“You move,” Yoshida replied, just as flatly.
Miri narrowed his eyes and stepped to the right.
Yoshida also stepped to the right.
Miri frowned and stepped left instead.
So did Yoshida.
They both stopped again.
Miri exhaled sharply, gripping his trash bag a little tighter. "Oh, come on ."
Yoshida, standing there like this was somehow Miri’s fault, tilted his head slightly.
Miri decided to try something different, he stepped halfway to the left, watching for Yoshida’s reaction.
Sure enough, Yoshida mirrored him, hesitating slightly like he, too, was starting to feel ridiculous.
Miri rolled his eyes and, without thinking, just stuck out a hand and physically pushed Yoshida one step to the side before walking past him.
"-Hey," Yoshida grumbled, but didn't resist.
Miri didn’t respond.
Behind him, Yoshida muttered something under his breath, but Miri was already tuning him out.
This should not have been that complicated.
The basketball match between Class 2-4 and Class 2-5 had started out as just a friendly game. Nothing too official, just a casual match organized by a few students who wanted an excuse to go all out on the court.
Miri hadn’t planned on playing. He wasn’t bad at basketball, but he also wasn’t the kind of guy to jump at the chance to sweat through his uniform at school. Still, when his classmates came looking for an extra player, he figured he might as well join.
That’s when he saw Yoshida on the other side of the court.
The guy was actually playing.
Miri frowned slightly. So it wasn’t just an excuse to run away from him?
Yoshida was fast, not the kind of player who tried to dominate the court, but the kind who knew exactly where to be, slipping through defenses like he was weightless. He didn’t even look like he was trying that hard.
Something about that irritated Miri.
They weren’t even directly facing each other.
Miri played aggressively, darting around to steal passes and drive the ball toward the hoop. He wasn’t as fast as Yoshida, but he was persistent, he made up for any lack of skill by sheer determination.
Then, by pure luck, they ended up guarding each other.
Yoshida smirked. "Oh, it’s you."
Miri didn’t reply. He just crouched slightly, preparing to block.
Yoshida faked right, Miri went right.
Then Yoshida actually went left.
"Shit-"
Miri spun around, barely keeping up, but Yoshida was already slipping through, bouncing the ball between his hands with stupid ease.
He shot.
Swish.
2-5’s side cheered.
Miri exhaled sharply. "Alright," he muttered. "Fine."
Now it was on.
For the next fifteen minutes, neither of them backed down.
Miri blocked Yoshida’s shots. Yoshida dodged Miri’s defense. Miri stole the ball. Yoshida stole it back.
At some point, it wasn’t about the match anymore.
It wasn’t about Class 2-4 vs. Class 2-5.
It was just Miri vs. Yoshida.
Then, somewhere between all the dodging, the blocking, the desperate attempts to one-up each other, Miri found himself grinning.
Wait….since when had he started having fun?
The rain came down in sheets, bouncing off the pavement and forming puddles that reflected the dim gray sky. Miri sighed as he adjusted the strap of his backpack, stepping toward the school entrance.
The moment he did, he spotted him.
Yoshida stood by the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, watching the downpour in silence. He wasn’t fidgeting or looking for cover, just standing there, like he had all the time in the world.
No umbrella?
Miri paused. He could just walk away. He could just ignore it. He really, really should ignore it.
Instead, before his common sense could kick in, he approached.
“…You waiting for divine intervention or something?” Miri asked, holding up his umbrella to Yoshida.
Yoshida turned his head slightly, bangs shifting just enough to reveal one of his unreadable eyes. “I’m just waiting for the rain to stop.”
Miri raised an eyebrow. The sky looked like it had zero plans of clearing up anytime soon.
A moment of silence stretched between them.
Then, with the same casual tone as always, Yoshida said, “What, are we gonna share it?”
Miri’s brain shut down.
The image of them walking side by side under one tiny umbrella flooded his mind uninvited. It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was embarrassing.
His face went hot.
“N-No?? Just take it, I don’t need it,” he blurted, shoving the umbrella into Yoshida’s hand like it was radioactive before bolting into the rain with nothing but his backpack thrown over his head.
“Hey-!”
He didn’t stop. He didn’t dare look back.
The rain pelted his shoulders, soaked his uniform, and by the time he got home, he was freezing, but his heart was still racing for a reason completely unrelated to the weather.
The next morning, Miri entered his classroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, only to stop dead in his tracks.
Sitting neatly on his desk was his umbrella.
Next to it was a packet of melon bread and a piece of paper with two simple words scrawled on it.
“Thanks, idiot.”
Miri stared at it.
Then stared some more.
Then, very slowly, he pulled out his chair and sat down, face burning.
Miri was not an animal person.
Not that he hated them or anything, but he had never been the type to lose his mind over a cute puppy or rush to feed strays outside convenience stores.
So when he saw the tiny, shivering kitten near the school gate, its fur matted, one paw awkwardly curled like it had been hurt, he didn’t understand why he immediately crouched down.
Maybe it was the way it looked up at him with those wide, uncertain eyes. Maybe it was because it was so small.
Maybe he was just a sucker.
He reached out carefully. "Hey, little guy-"
A shadow fell over him.
"You gonna take it home or just stare at it?"
Miri knew that voice.
He looked up, already scowling, only to see Yoshida standing there, hands in his pockets, watching him with his usual blank expression.
"Why? Did you want it or something?" Miri shot back.
Yoshida shrugged. "Not really."
Then, a pause.
Miri saw it. The brief flicker of hesitation in Yoshida’s expression.
Then he sighed, crouching down beside Miri. "But it’s dumb to leave an injured animal alone."
Miri blinked, a little caught off guard, but decided not to question it.
A few minutes later, they had moved under a large tree near the school field. It was quieter here, further from the school gates, where fewer people would stare at them for suddenly adopting a stray.
Miri held the kitten carefully in his hands, feeling ridiculously awkward about the whole thing.
Yoshida sat beside him, watching.
After a moment, he held out his hands. "Here. Let me see it."
Miri hesitated.
"You don’t trust me with a cat?" Yoshida said flatly.
Miri clicked his tongue and reluctantly handed the tiny creature over.
Yoshida took it gently, his fingers barely pressing into its fur. His expression didn’t change much, but his grip was careful, almost too careful, like he was handling something impossibly delicate.
Miri watched as Yoshida gently ran a thumb over the kitten’s curled paw. His brows furrowed just a little, his mouth set in a straight line.
"...It looks dehydrated," Yoshida muttered. "Go get some water."
Miri narrowed his eyes. "Why me?"
"Because I’m holding the cat, genius."
"...Fair point."
Grumbling, Miri pushed himself to his feet and ran back toward the school building. The water bottle in his bag was completely empty, so he had no choice but to fill it up from the tap near the back entrance.
He did not take long. Maybe two minutes, max.
But when he jogged back to the tree, something was different.
The kitten, which had been limp and trembling just a moment ago, was now completely fine, sitting comfortably in Yoshida’s hands, playing with his fingers, tail flicking lazily.
Miri froze.
Yoshida looked up at him, completely unfazed. "Oh, you’re back."
"...What the hell?" Miri frowned. "It was hurt."
Yoshida shrugged, scratching the kitten behind the ears. "Guess it just needed some love from someone who’s not a dumbass."
Miri’s offense was immediate. "EXCUSE ME?!"
Yoshida just smirked, cradling the kitten closer.
Miri scowled, stepping forward. "Wait, wait- what the hell do you mean??? It was literally limping!"
"Yeah. And now it’s not."
"Huh???"
Yoshida blinked back at him mockingly. "Huh."
Miri’s eyes narrowed.
Something was weird about this.
He just didn’t know what.
Hirofumi didn’t go home right away.
Instead, he took the long way back, hands in his pockets, thoughts tangled up in a way that didn’t sit well with him.
Sugo Miri.
That annoying, persistent, weirdly dramatic guy who had spent weeks chasing him down, whisper-shouting about his "too many eyes" in a way that would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so goddamn dangerous.
And yet… that same guy had crouched beside him today under a tree, completely absorbed in helping some tiny stray kitten, oblivious to everything else.
The eyes.
They had flared open the second he touched the kitten to try to heal it, seeing more than they should. It had been so instinctive, so automatic, that he hadn’t even thought to stop it.
That was dangerous.
Sugo could have seen if he’d been back even a second earlier.
…But he didn’t.
Hirofumi sighed, stretching his arms as he walked.
When did this happen?
When did it become… okay to be in Sugo’s presence?
He still felt Sugo watching him sometimes, like he was trying to stare the answers out of him. The curiosity hadn’t gone away. Hirofumi wasn’t stupid, he knew that Sugo hadn’t given up.
But the dreams.
He didn’t want to think about them.
At first, he had dismissed them as random nonsense. Some vague image of Sugo, standing somewhere he didn’t recognize, looking at him like he was expecting something. Then there were more. Sugo in the crowd. Sugo in his periphery. Sugo turning to face him with a strange expression-
And then, after that day… that dream.
He didn’t even want to name it.
It hadn’t been scary. Or even weird, compared to the things he usually saw in his sleep. But when he woke up, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important. That it meant something.
He wasn’t about to chase after answers. He had enough problems as it was.
But for now...
For now, he’d stop running away.
That meant no more avoiding Sugo in the hallways. No more pretending he didn’t exist. It wasn’t friendship, not exactly.
Just a temporary truce.
A dangerous one.
But Hirofumi wasn’t going to think too hard about it.
Because if he did…
He might realize just how much things had already changed.