Chapter Text
life was good after high school.
at least, that was what nakakita yuma thought.
twenty-one years old and his face was plastered across magazines, tv screens, subway ads, even vending machines. fans screamed his name from sidewalks, shoved notebooks and pens into his hands, begged for selfies in convenience stores. his dramas trended on social media within minutes of airing. his career gleamed. smooth. shiny. untouchable.
successful already, despite barely being old enough to drink.
again, that was what he thought.
college was still technically part of his life, though only on paper. why bother sitting through boring lectures when he was already pulling in more money in a year than most classmates would see in a decade?
“you’re famous, alright,” his manager said one afternoon, flipping through a fat planner while balancing coffee in the other hand. “but don’t forget people still care about appearances. if word spreads you’re not attending lectures, people will drag you.”
yuma lounged across the couch, legs stretched, a practiced smirk tugging at his lips. “oh, please. as long as my face stays polished, nobody cares.”
his manager rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “i don’t care what you think. i care about your future. you’ll do as i say.”
“ugh.” yuma threw an arm across his eyes like he was auditioning for a tragic stage play. “fine, fine. whatever.”
so he went. sunglasses indoors, hoodie zipped up, ignoring squeals, stares, whispers. a ghost among the desks, just visible enough to keep the tabloids quiet.
then came the kicker.
“before that, i’ll need you to attend this festival tonight,” his manager announced, tucking a schedule into his briefcase.
yuma sat up straight. “wait, what!? manager-san, why should i—”
“to look more humble. more human. no talkbacks.”
“but—”
“i said no talkbacks.”
and that was that.
-
night fell fast. the festival streets burned bright with lanterns strung overhead, laughter crackling in the air, the scent of soy sauce and grilled skewers drifting thick through the crowd.
perfect. loud. suffocating.
yuma adjusted his “disguise” which is oversized sunglasses, cap tugged low, hoodie zipped to his chin. subtle as a neon sign, but it would have to do.
he wove through stalls, head down, weaving past chatter and steam. he even managed to snag a candy apple without anyone gasping his name. for a moment, he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d survive the night.
then someone nearly recognized him. a whisper. a point.
“shit.” the word hissed between his teeth as he tugged the cap lower. it was too hot, too crowded, too risky.
he broke away, slipping toward the temple on the edge of the grounds. dark, empty, quiet but as soon as he ducked past the shrine gates, he slammed chest-first into someone solid.
broad. tall. nearly a wall.
“watch it,” yuma snapped, steadying his apple before it dropped. then he looked up.
yuma froze.
so did the guy.
“…asakura.”
“…nakakita.”
his voice was low, steady, that infuriating calm yuma remembered from high school.
“out of everyone,” yuma said, heat bubbling in his chest, “i had to run into you.”
“you took the words out of my mouth.”
festival noise seemed to dim around them. only cicadas filled the silence.
yuma forced a scoff. “you look the same. still dull, still smug and still freakishly tall.”
jo’s grin was slow, deliberate. “you look the same too. still fake, still shiny, still short.”
“short? i’m average height!”
“for middle schoolers, maybe.”
“god, i hate you.”
“consistent as always.”
the candy apple stick cracked in yuma’s grip. “what are you even doing here? stalking me? reliving your high school glory days?”
“hardly.” jo’s voice was flat. “working part-time at one of the stalls. on break.”
yuma blinked. “…you? working? with customers? you’d scare them away with that face.”
“funny,” jo replied. “my tips say otherwise.”
yuma barked out a laugh, sharp and too loud. “wow. from debate team prodigy to flipping snacks. what a downgrade.”
jo tilted his head. “from top grades to toothpaste commercials. what a downgrade.”
yuma sputtered. “excuse you,”
“look at you.” jo’s tone shifted, quieter, sharper. “so polished, even under all that shine you’re still the same selfish brat. if your fans knew half the shit you said, you’d be done.”
yuma bristled. “fuck you. what do you know about the industry? you’re literally grilling pancakes.”
“takoyaki.”
“that’s not better.” yuma sneered. “you know what’s better? my future.”
“your fake future,” jo corrected smoothly. “fake smiles. fake laughs. fake hair.”
“what’s wrong with my hair? it’s beautiful.”
“it looks like plastic.”
“how dare you!” yuma snapped, clutching his head defensively. “i spend a fortune on this hair!”
“then let me prove it.” jo reached out, fingers brushing close.
“don’t touch me!” yuma shoved his hand away, stepping back,
right onto a rock.
his balance tipped.
“watch out—”
thud.
they both went down, crashing against the side of the shrine. wood rattled. something toppled.
a charm, once bound tight with twine, hit the ground. cracked. broke. shards glittered across the stone.
silence.
“oh no.”
“shit.”
yuma pointed instantly. “this is all your fault!”
“my fault? you pushed me!”
“you shouldn’t have tried to save me like some gross hero.”
“gross? can’t even say thank you once, can you?” jo crossed his arms, chuckling in disbelief.
“in your dreams, asakura.”
“yeah, nightmare more like.”
before they could launch again, a voice cut through the air.
“well, well, what do we have here?”
an old woman emerged from the shadows, stooped and smiling faintly, as though she’d been waiting.
both of them straightened immediately.
“ma’am—we’re so sorry, it was an accident. we’ll pay for it.” yuma bowed quickly, shoving jo’s arm so he bowed too.
“no need,” she said, amused. “you boys didn’t just break a charm. you broke balance and that… brings trouble.”
they both froze.
“wait, what does that mean?” yuma asked.
“are you saying we’re cursed?” jo said flatly.
her smile deepened. “from now on, you will only speak the truth.”
yuma blinked, scoffing. “there’s no way that’s real.”
“denial already. fitting.” the woman chuckled softly. “good luck, boys.”
then she was gone, as if the night had swallowed her whole.
yuma exhaled, shaky. “what the hell was that?”
yuma tightened his grip on the candy apple, jaw tense. his chest was still heaving from the fall, from the strange old woman’s words echoing in his ears.
truth only.
ridiculous.
“seriously, what the fuck was that?” he asked, voice cracking higher than intended.
“a curse,” jo said simply. “obvious, isn’t it?”
“oh, shut up. curses don’t exist.” yuma shook his head, tugging his cap lower as if that would hide the heat in his cheeks. “she was just some weird old lady trying to scare us.”
“if you say so.” jo leaned against the temple wall, arms crossed, like he had all the time in the world. “but if it’s real, you’re screwed.”
“me? why me?”
jo smirked. “because you lie constantly. it’s basically your brand.”
yuma opened his mouth to snap back, only for the words to tumble out unbidden.
“i don’t lie that much.”
his eyes widened. not that much.
not never.
jo raised an eyebrow. “see? already working.”
“no, that doesn’t count,” yuma insisted, shaking his head furiously. “that was just me—ugh—phrasing. i don’t—” he cut himself off, realizing the next words pressing against his tongue were threatening to spill, claws scraping up his throat.
jo tilted his head, waiting. smug.
yuma bit down on his lip so hard it nearly hurt.
“wow,” jo said after a beat. “this is going to be fun.”
“fun?!” yuma’s voice spiked. “this is humiliating. if people find out, i’m ruined!”
“guess you’ll just have to get used to honesty for once.”
yuma wanted to throw the apple at his stupid face. instead, he muttered under his breath, “god, you’re insufferable.”
“what was that?”
“i said you’re—” the words slipped out louder, sharper, “insufferable but annoyingly handsome.”
silence.
both of them froze.
jo blinked slowly. “what?”
yuma’s entire body went rigid.
fuck.
“n-no, wait, that—” he tried to backtrack, but the curse pressed at his throat, heavy, choking, as if daring him to twist the truth.
jo’s grin spread, wolfish. “so. the great nakakita thinks i’m handsome.”
“shut up shut up shut up,” yuma practically shrieked, face burning. “it was the curse, not me!”
“uh-huh.”
“i hate this.”
“i don’t.”
“of course you don’t, you smug bastard!" yet, beneath the outrage, a strange chill ran through yuma. not just because the curse worked, but because, the worst part was that it had dragged up something he didn’t even want to admit to himself.
he did think asakura jo was handsome.
and now, thanks to that damned broken charm, it was out in the open.
yuma’s face burned so hot he thought steam might rise off him. his hands trembled around the half-eaten candy apple and for once, he didn’t know where to look.
jo, of course, looked perfectly composed. insufferably composed. he tilted his head just enough to catch the lantern light, smirk curling slow and sharp.
“don’t look so panicked, nakakita. it’s just the truth.”
“don’t say it like that!” yuma barked, words firing out before he could stop them. “you make it sound like I—like I actually—ugh—”
“like you actually mean it?”
“god—” yuma strangled the word, voice cracking so hard his throat ached.
jo chuckled, the low kind that always grated on yuma, because it wasn’t loud enough for anyone else to hear, but it was just enough to say I won this round.
yuma’s teeth ground together. “this curse, if it’s even real, it’s unfair. it’s humiliating.”
“it’s honest.” jo shrugged. “about time.”
“oh, don’t act high and mighty. you lied too, back in school. remember? you said you didn’t care about being class president, but you campaigned harder than anyone.”
“that wasn’t a lie.” jo’s eyes gleamed. “i didn’t care about the title. i just wanted to beat you.”
yuma froze.
jo’s grin deepened at the slack-jawed look on his rival’s face.
“y-you—” yuma sputtered. “you’re kidding.”
“i don’t joke about victories.”
“you—you asshole!” yuma’s voice jumped an octave. “do you know how many nights i stayed up writing speeches? how many charts i made? i thought you actually wanted to change the school or something!"
jo gave him a long, almost bored look. “the school? nakakita, i just wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face.”
yuma nearly dropped the candy apple again. his throat tightened, because the curse was stirring, curling like smoke at the back of his tongue.
“fine!” he snapped. “then you should know i only joined the debate team to crush you."
jo raised an eyebrow. “didn’t work.”
“i almost did!”
“almost,” jo repeated, maddeningly calm.
yuma’s hands shook, rage bubbling but also something else, something he didn’t dare name. his chest was tight, his pulse too loud.
“god, i hate you,” yuma spat, though his voice cracked again, softer this time. “i hate how you always get under my skin. i hate that i can’t stop reacting to you. i hate that—”
the curse pressed hard, merciless, until the words tumbled out in a rush,
“i hate that i kept noticing you even after high school.”
silence.
the festival noise buzzed faintly in the distance, cicadas droning in the trees, but here between them, it was nothing but the thud of yuma’s heart.
jo stared at him. not smirking. not smug. just staring.
yuma felt the ground split beneath his feet. “n-no, wait, that wasn’t—that’s not—”
the curse clamped down again.
“it’s true,” yuma whispered hoarsely.
for once, jo didn’t laugh.
instead, jo looked down at the mangled candy apple stick still clutched in yuma’s hand. “you still eat like a child.”
yuma gawked. “excuse me! i was attacked by a curse and you’re worried about how i eat?”
“just saying,” jo said, lips twitching. “messy, impatient, too much sugar. still a kid.”
yuma jabbed the sticky stick toward his chest. “say that again and i’ll shove this apple core down your throat.”
“you already finished it.”
“that’s not the point.”
jo snorted, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. “relax. i was giving you a compliment.”
“how the hell is that a compliment?”
“you haven’t changed. i like consistency.”
yuma’s face went redder than the candy apple glaze. “i’m leaving. goodbye. goodbye forever. goodbye until the day i die.” he spun on his heel, stomping toward the temple stairs.
“you won’t make it five steps without tripping,” jo called lazily.
“shut—” yuma’s foot caught on the first step, and he windmilled his arms, barely saving himself. “—up!” he barked, cheeks blazing as he regained balance.
jo’s laughter rang out low and sharp, echoing after him.
“don’t follow me!” yuma yelled without turning around.
“wouldn’t dream of it, nakakita.” jo smirked, watching him vanish into the crowd. “you’re loud enough from here.”
just like that, nakakita yuma stormed off into the festival crowd, muttering curses under his breath and swearing he’d never cross paths with asakura jo again. of course, fate and a broken charm had other plans.
- tbc.