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When Sakura arrived in Makochi, the last thing he expected was to be welcomed so warmly. Even though some time has passed, he still often doesn't know what to do with all the affection he receives, as if it overflows from his hands; fortunately, he has friends who never hesitated to help him accept it.
These displays of affection are shared across the whole class; ever since they all met, they’ve become very close.
It shows during their free time, when a teacher is absent, and they all gather in a single circle to talk about trivial things.
During patrols, when they can never stay quiet, no matter who they’re paired with.
Even after school, when they decide just minutes beforehand where they’ll go eat.
This surprises even Umemiya and the Kings, because although they all get along exceptionally well, they’ve never seen such unity in a class—especially in their first year, when people are usually strangers to each other.
And Sakura would completely agree with them, if it weren’t for the fact that Sugishita never takes part in these activities.
He understands. They're so alike that it irritates him—maybe that’s why they’re always fighting. He doesn’t even need to speak to end up in an argument with him!
He spent most of his life replying with grunts and cold stares, avoiding people like the plague; he wasn’t willing to be hurt again by a mistake he could easily avoid.
That’s why he decided, as class captain, that he was going to include him, whether he liked it or not.
Because it’s awful to see everyone else have something as normal as a friendship, someone to trust, while you’re left behind, even while trying to convince yourself that you don’t need it.
It doesn’t mean they’re going to become friends. He simply wants him to be accepted just as the others have been, because he knows not many people dare approach Sugishita.
It’s his duty as captain.
—
He starts with small things, like greeting him when he’s on the rooftop—the only place where he isn’t either asleep or angry.
He could tease him for a whole week about the face he makes every time he greets him, but that wouldn’t help his little plan, so he keeps it to himself.
From this, he notices that Sugishita is actually very gentle with his plants, despite usually being rough. It might sound odd, but it's almost hypnotic to watch him move from one side to the other, watering and repotting, his long silky hair swaying along with him, all while wearing an almost imperceptible smile.
To anyone else, he still looks like a sourpuss. However, Sakura has seen Sugishita’s face enough times to know he genuinely enjoys what he’s doing.
Umemiya watches all this while continuing the meeting about what they’ve planned for the rest of the month. He exchanges knowing glances with Tsubaki, just to confirm they’re seeing the same thing.
It’s almost comical how Sakura hasn’t blinked since his gaze landed on his little black-haired brother. That’s fine—he deserves a great friend like the heterochromatic one.
—
Sakura is proud of himself—they’ve managed to exchange a few words since he started his plan.
Today, he’s on patrol with Sugishita, so he’ll take every chance he can to strike up a conversation, or at least do something to get closer.
He calmly walks down the stairs with Suo and Nirei. Their chat ends as they reach the courtyard, each heading to find their respective partners.
His eyes meet Sugishita’s brown ones. Automatically, he raises his arm to greet him; the other just grunts and nods toward the exit.
Sakura celebrates internally—this is the best reaction he’s gotten so far. He wonders… why is he happy about that? Sugishita is still his rival—this is all for the class, of course.
As both walk out of Furin, Suo and Nirei exchange glances.
—Did you see that?— the blond says.
—If my spirit isn’t mistaken, our captain is definitely up to something— Nirei chuckles at Suo’s words.
—I never thought Sakura would greet him voluntarily—let alone that Sugishita would respond.— The blond laughs a bit more before suddenly realizing something.
—They haven’t fought in two weeks!— he says dramatically. He’d felt something was off in the “vibe.” Now he understands—it was the lack of their shouting.
—
They’ve been walking around town for half an hour, running errands here and there, and not a single conversation has emerged.
He hadn’t realized how socially inept he was. Now that he thinks about it, it’s his classmates who always make him talk, make him open up a little more. That thought makes him feel even more fond of them. He tries to push away any thoughts about how vulnerable he’s becoming with them.
Their silent walk stops being silent when they spot two thieves running out of a store.
They both rush after them. Sugishita catches one by the collar and pulls him back to land a punch on his face.
Sakura keeps going after the other two.
It doesn’t take long for them to veer into an alley. Good.
Sakura grabs one of them by the arm; a simple knee to the gut is enough to knock him down. He quickly turns to find the other and grabs both of his arms as he charges in.
A sharp burn shoots through his hand, escalating to unbearable pain in seconds. Was he bleeding!?
His eyes fix on the metallic object the thief is holding. He lets go of the arms and kicks the guy in the face.
Shit, shit, shit.
The last thing he wanted was to be out of shape for a fight. He hates every day spent "recovering" (because by the third day, he’s back in action) from his ankle wound.
How pathetic are those who need weapons to fight—and even worse if they still end up losing like these idiots.
He tries to close his hand slightly, but stops halfway when pain shoots up his arm. The wound hasn’t stopped bleeding; and while it’s not the worst thing he’s experienced, it’ll probably need stitches.
He doesn’t have the money for a trip to the doctor.
Someone touches his shoulder, and he jumps into a defensive stance, ignoring the pain—only to meet Sugishita’s brown eyes.
—Your hand…— the black-haired boy says, glancing at the small crime scene forming on the ground. —We’re leaving.— he says brusquely, then turns and starts walking.
—What!? I don’t need your help!— Truthfully, he has nothing at home to treat the wound, but he’d rather die than let anyone help him.
His little plan might go to hell for now, but he can’t accept this—not even if it’s to get closer to Sugishita.
Apparently, the taller boy doesn’t understand plain words, because he turns back with a glare and grabs his arm to pull him along.
—What the hell? Let go, idiot!— Sakura shouts, struggling to free himself from the stronger grip.
Sugishita walks effortlessly until they reach his house. He digs into his pockets, unlocks the door, and walks in with the heterochromatic boy behind him.
—I’m home.—
Sakura can’t help but feel like an intruder. The smell of lavender incense fills the air, along with the overwhelming sensation of home, from the photos, plants, and decorations that bring a warmth he knows he’ll never have in his own "home"—if he can even call his tiny room that.
—Sugishita, dear, you’re home early— a grandmother’s voice calls out. He hadn’t expected that. He assumes everything in the house must be thanks to her, since, for some reason, it never occurred to him that Sugishita might live with someone like her—though he admits that’s a ridiculous assumption.
He’s just not used to seeing so many… family feelings. It’s the first time he’s been in someone else’s house. These things hit him all at once—the not knowing how people raised with love are treated.
—Did you bring a friend? How lovely, it’s the first time you’ve brought someone home!— she says enthusiastically. —Dear, come here a moment!—
A serious-looking grandfather walks into the living room, just as surprised as his wife.
Sakura turns to Sugishita, only to witness something he never thought he’d see.
—Excuse me— the black-haired boy mumbles nervously, his cheeks visibly flushed, before dragging Sakura into what seems to be his room. And oh, you could tell—it had a few dents on the door.
Sugishita places him in the middle of the room and starts rummaging through drawers, then walks in and out with various items: alcohol, bandages, and more.
—Sit down.— he orders while setting everything on the floor.
Sakura glares at him but does what he’s told—not at all politely.
He’s not sure why, but Sugishita seems nervous about the situation. Is he afraid of blood? He hopes not, because his hand hasn’t stopped bleeding the entire way.
What a nightmare, staining the floor in front of his grandparents.
—Why are you doin…—
—What’s your problem with me? Got an issue?— Sugishita cuts in.
Startled, Sakura looks up at his expression—nervous, confused, and angry; he doesn’t get it.
—What? I haven’t done anything to you.— Apparently, that response only irritates him more, because Sugishita stops preparing the things he was going to use.
—Don’t play dumb. Stop doing what you always do,— he growls.
—Why should I stop talking to you? Don’t be weird. It’s my duty as captain.—
—I don’t give a damn. You know you don’t really want to. I don’t need your pity—or anyone else’s.—
The tension in the room spikes. Sakura never imagined that something like this would bother him.
And it’s the most he’s ever heard him speak. It reminds him too much of himself—so much that it hurts to feel like he’s facing a mirror reflecting the part he’s trying to change.
He understands. But he also wants to help him leave that part behind. It’s his duty as captain, of course.
—I’ve never done any of this out of pity. If I talk to you more, it’s because I want us to connect more… as classmates,— he mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up. —If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have brought me here.—
He notices the trembling hands cleaning his wound suddenly freeze, only for Sugishita to look up at him—cheeks even redder—before silently nodding and continuing what he was doing.
—
After that, with a few stitches in his hand and thanks to Sugishita—no infection involved—they’re much closer now, or at least that’s how Sakura feels.
A few weeks have passed since it all started. Now, it’s normal to see them on the rooftop, just sharing a silence that’s become comfortable.
Umemiya doesn’t say anything, nor do Suo and Nirei, but they’re just as surprised by this new friendship. Now they fight better: they don’t get in each other’s way anymore, and even help each other afterward, tending to each other’s injuries.
Sometimes, Suo tries to subtly ask Sakura what’s going on, to which the heterochromatic boy simply replies:
—I'm just doing my duty as captain.—
He wants to tell him that there’s no need to patch him up after every fight, or bring him water during training, or almost exclusively train with Sugishita.
It’s not like he never does those things with the others—it’s just that it happens so rarely. That’s why it surprises them so much that he’s so insistent on doing all of it for the one person he supposedly hates and considers his rival.
On the other hand, Umemiya finds it endearing to see Sugishita so thoughtful and a bit more talkative. His mood has improved noticeably. He knows that, even if he doesn’t show it, the boy enjoys spending time with someone who has made the effort to truly know him—despite his aloof facade.
People don’t approach Sugishita because of his quiet and prickly personality. He gets why others find him intimidating. Besides, Sugishita simply shuts down any human contact that isn’t with Umemiya or his grandparents.
That’s why accepting Sakura into his life was easier. The boy arrived in town with the same mindset—shouting and hitting, partly as a defense mechanism to avoid getting hurt, and partly because he didn’t know what else to do with his hands and words.
It’s easier to reuse everything you know, everything you were raised with, than to step into that unfamiliar space where you don’t know what response you’ll get when you use your hands to comfort and your words to encourage.
—How’s it going with Sakura? I’m glad you get along now.— Umemiya says with a smile. He has to hold back a laugh when he sees Sugishita’s reaction.
—Fine.—he mutters almost robotically, and as expected, his cheeks flush red.
—No need to be embarrassed. Your hatred couldn’t last forever, not when you see each other every day.—
Sugishita wished that were true, that his hatred was stronger than his weakness, like always. What’s wrong with me? How can I let my guard down around someone I supposedly hate?
Everything would be so much easier.
So the days go by—almost two months since this whole “include the grump of the class” plan began.
Where Sakura looks for him constantly, they share breaks, but more importantly, where no words are needed to express the… affection they have for each other.
Because, even if neither of them admits it, they are each other’s peace—strange as that may sound.
Sakura doesn’t feel like a stranger, disconnected from life, when they’re together; in one way or another, it’s exactly what he needs.
Sugishita enjoys not feeling the need to speak, knowing that someone will still be there beside him, even in silence.
Because when Sakura had a panic attack after the KEEL fight, from feeling not strong enough, Sugishita was there—quietly staying by his side while the others kept going.
If anyone saw how the taller boy placed a hand on his captain’s back in comfort, no one mentioned it.
---
He didn’t expect it to rain mid-patrol. His weather app failed him for the first time. Just what I needed!
A loud thunderclap rang out suddenly, making the bicolor boy stop abruptly, breathing heavily.
Sugishita noticed how the figure beside him fell behind, then turned to see Sakura’s hands trembling slightly, his gaze vacant—like he wasn’t even there.
—Hey, we have to go,— he said. —It’s going to rain harder.— he repeated.
Noticing Sakura had no intention of moving, he did the first thing that came to mind.
Gently, he took off his jacket and draped it over the bicolor’s head, adjusting it to keep him from getting more soaked.
He grabbed the shorter boy’s hand, and as always, without a word, guided him home. Because unlike before, he knows him a bit more now; he knows that if it were up to Sakura, he’d go home without changing clothes—which would only make him sick. All because he doesn’t have anyone to remind him to take care of himself.
He’s grateful to have his grandparents. He realizes that without them, he’d probably do the same things he now sees as “a lack of self-preservation.”
He knows it’s not the other’s fault, but he can’t help thinking about it every time he sees him.
They’re just steps from his house when, in the middle of the rain, Sakura murmurs:
—…I’m sorry… for always doing this to you.—
He rushes inside, up the stairs, not greeting the grandparents. He knows they can wait.
He opens the door to his room and pushes Sakura inside (maybe a bit too hard), then slams the door shut and locks eyes with the heterochromatic boy.
—What’s wrong with you?!— he shouts, exasperated. —Isn’t it enough that everyone keeps telling you? How can you care so little about yourself that you always just let yourself fall apart over things like this?— He clenches his fists. —Damn it, stop pretending to be strong, you idiot. You’re not proving anything to anyone by not taking care of yourself.—
He opens his eyes, only to meet those mismatched, crystal-clear eyes—full of tears. He hears the labored breathing, and that’s enough to crush him with guilt.
He raises his hands instinctively, something new, and takes a step closer.
—N-No! I don’t want you to touch me!” Sakura blurts out, voice rough. “I know I always annoy you with this, but I never asked for your comfort. I don’t need—will never need—your help with things like this.— He swallows hard. —When did this escalate so much that you started thinking I needed you?—
Shit. He didn’t mean to say something so cruel. He doesn’t even believe it. But he always ends up ruining things, saying things he doesn’t feel just to shield himself from pain he knows won’t come—not now.
But all he can do is sit down abruptly on the floor and cry silently. It’s the first time he’s cried in years; he feels unable to stop.
What a shame.
If he were still with his parents, they’d surely be disgusted seeing him like this.
Sugishita takes a moment to process it all—but that becomes secondary when he sees this raw vulnerability. Does it mean Sakura trusts him? Or just couldn’t help it?
Either way, it doesn’t matter right now.
He sits beside him. Sakura flinches when their bodies touch—but says nothing.
Not even when Sugishita rests his head on his shoulder.
The black-haired boy has never been good with words, so he just lets time pass—as much as needed—until Sakura feels better.
It’s hard, since Sakura has spent his entire life suppressing absolutely everything.
Time goes by until, after half an hour, Sugishita hears the other’s breathing begin to steady. He lets out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding.
His eyes meet those… beautiful, distinct ones. It’s almost instinctive how his hands move to wipe away the tears still clinging to the pink-tinged face.
He stops mid-action once he realizes what he’s doing. —I’m sorry,— he mumbles, cheeks bright red.
A soft laugh escapes from the bicolor boy.
—I’m the one who should apologize,— his laugh fading into silence. —I was rude to you. You didn’t deserve to hear any of that. It’s just that… it scares me that we’re so alike. I’m scared of storms, I hate going home alone, and… and there are so many things I don’t even know how to feel about.—
“It’s okay.”
Two words. That’s all Sakura needed to understand everything.
Suddenly, looking into Sugishita’s eyes makes his heart race. He feels the blood rush to his cheeks.
Quietly, Sugishita places his hand gently over Sakura’s, kisses the last dried tear on his face, then gazes at those pink lips and places a soft, short kiss.
Both boys, nerves on edge, decide to stay like that—hand in hand, sitting on the floor, enjoying the silence as they always have.
That night, Sakura stays at Sugishita’s house, wearing his clothes; sharing his scent; holding each other in the same bed—because words were never necessary to understand or describe their unexpected love.
—
Their dynamic changed in imperceptible ways, but those who truly know them both can tell something’s going on—something more than just friendship..