Archive of Our Own

Takumi’s door won’t open.

What?

He tries the key again. Nothing.

This is... not great. He’s already gone through this war once, but he’s pretty sure he won’t survive a second round if he’s not getting any sleep, and having a bed kind of seems like a crucial requirement for that. Sirei can probably unlock it, right?

The instant he thinks it, Sirei’s voice comes through the rooftop monitor. “Special Defense Unit, please assemble in the cafeteria! I have an announcement to make.”

“You may have noticed,” Sirei announces, “that certain private rooms can no longer be accessed. This is because those rooms will no longer be required for the war effort.”

Gaku blanches. “No way. Are you gonna execute us?”

“From now on, each of you will be assigned your own... well, let’s call it a battle spouse.” Sirei claps his hands together. “The two of you will share one room and one bed. Hanky-panky is not technically compulsory, but I’d say it’s encouraged.”

Takumi stares. “Wh-what? What are you – what are you talking about?”

“The goal here is to strengthen your bonds,” Sirei says, in the kind of patient tone you might use to explain an idea that isn’t completely ridiculous. “If you’re fighting to protect a lover here at the school, you’ll fight harder. That’s the theory, at any rate.”

“You can’t—” What? “You can’t just stick people in the same room and expect them to fall in love!”

“We’d ideally like the Tsukumo twins to branch out a little,” Sirei says, ignoring him completely, “but, by my calculations, Ima will sabotage the entire war effort if they’re not rooming together, so those two will be one set of battle... partners, let’s say.”

Kako mutters something inaudible under her breath.

“Hey,” Gaku says, “do the rest of us get to choose who we’re rooming with if we threaten to sabotage the war effort?”

“For the sake of helping the two academies integrate,” Sirei says, “students from the Last Defense Academy and Second-to-Last Defense Academy will be rooming together.”

Nozomi, Takumi thinks. It takes every ounce of strength he has not to look in her direction.

This whole room-sharing thing sounds really inconvenient. But, if he ends up assigned to a room with Nozomi... well, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

Or maybe that would be unbearably awkward, maybe it’s the worst possible outcome. He doesn’t know what to hope for.

“Sumino,” Sirei says, “you’re with Omokage.”

Okay. Takumi may not have known what he was hoping for, but he knows he wasn’t hoping for that.

Yugamu holds his room’s door open for Takumi, with a little flourish of one hand. Takumi has to take a moment to brace himself before he walks in.

When he hears the door close softly behind him, he can’t suppress a shiver.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Yugamu, exactly. Yugamu’s one of his allies, one of his friends; they fought side by side during the first hundred days. Takumi wants to protect him; he wants to protect all of them. It’s just...

Well. He’d feel better if he didn’t have to be alone with him, that’s all.

“It’s an honour to have such a pretty little thing in my bedroom,” Yugamu says, not at all changing Takumi’s feelings on the matter.

“Do you have to be so creepy?” Takumi asks. “Like... is it an actual physical need for you? Do you think you’re going to burst into flames if you ever try being less creepy?”

Yugamu takes a seat on the couch. Which is less ominous than taking a seat on the bed would be, at least. “I think we should be clear from the start about what we can expect from this relationship.”

Kind of terrifying, but... “Yeah, being clear sounds good.”

“I have to be true to my heart, I’m afraid,” Yugamu says. “I know we’ve been assigned as partners, but I’m not going to kill someone I’m not in love with.”

Takumi looks at him for a long moment.

“Good,” he says at last.

“That said,” Yugamu says, “if you’d be interested in making love, or a little casual torture—”

“I’m fine without either of those,” Takumi says. “Thanks.” He folds his arms, surveying the room. “So... how is sleeping going to work, here? Is one of us going to take the couch? I guess we could alternate.”

“It’s important to be well rested for the war effort,” Yugamu says. “The bed’s large enough for two, wouldn’t you say?”

Takumi shakes his head. “No offence, but I’m not sure how much rest I’m going to get if you’re right next to me.”

“If it’d be any reassurance,” Yugamu says, “I doubt I’d be in the bed by the time you settled down. I tend to spend most of the night in the bio lab and come to bed in the small hours. It’s rare for me to sleep more than four hours a night.”

Four hours a night? Maybe that’s half the reason Yugamu is like this. “What happened to being well rested for the war effort?”

“Well,” Yugamu says, “maybe having a cutie like you in my bed will tempt me into spending more time there.”

Takumi closes his eyes for a moment. Takes a deep, slow breath.

“You know,” he says, opening his eyes, “you’re not making this bed-sharing thing sound appealing.”

“No? What a shame.”

“I’ll just take the couch,” Takumi says.

There are a lot of syringes just kind of... lying around in the room. Once Yugamu has headed off to the bio lab for the evening, Takumi gathers them up, carefully, and stows them away in a box. When Yugamu comes back to the room and sees Takumi sleeping, it’ll probably be best if there aren’t any syringes within easy reach.

It takes Takumi a long time to get to sleep. Yugamu’s still in the bio lab; at least he doesn’t have to make the effort with that guy in the room, actively being creepy at him. But the couch is a two-seater, too short to make a comfortable bed, and Yugamu’s room has a lot of neon blue lighting elements that Takumi can’t find a way to turn off. It’s low lighting, at least, but it’ll still probably be a few nights before he’s used to it.

If he survives that long. He can’t believe he’s rooming with Yugamu, of all people.

That’s probably an unfair thought. He trusts Yugamu to have his back in battle; the guy’s always been a reliable member of the team. It’s just... well, he’s a little weird.

Takumi half-wakes in the night to see Yugamu sitting on the arm of the couch, just watching him, in the dim blue glow of the room.

He thinks about protesting, getting outraged. He’s too tired for it. Honestly, it’s hard to get outraged when he’s not even surprised.

“If you’re not going to sleep,” Takumi mumbles, “I might as well take the bed.”

“Would you like me to carry you to bed?” Yugamu asks.

His voice is low in a way that reaches fingers inside Takumi and strokes down the bones of his spine. Takumi shudders himself fully awake. “I – I can get there myself. You’re not going to use it?”

“I might sit there, for a while,” Yugamu says. “For a better view. But I can sleep on the couch, if you’d prefer not to share.”

Fine. If the bed’s on offer, Takumi’s going to take it. He’s going to screw up his body badly if he keeps sleeping on this tiny couch. Yugamu’s shorter than him, if only a little, and his body’s already screwed up; he can probably coil up like a snake or something.

Takumi climbs slowly off the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his neck, and crashes into the bed without another word. A moment later, he’s conscious of the mattress shifting as Yugamu sits next to him.

“Don’t touch me,” Takumi says.

“I’ll only touch you with my gaze,” Yugamu assures him.

“Who the hell says something like that?” Takumi mumbles, through a yawn.

In the morning, Takumi sits up to see Yugamu scrunched up on the couch, sleeping.

It doesn’t look comfortable. Takumi’s neck and shoulders twinge sympathetically; they haven’t recovered from his own time on the couch during the night.

Three months to go. Is Yugamu going to be okay, sleeping like that?

“Please,” Takumi says. “You’ve got all these unused rooms. Can’t you unlock one?”

“This is non-negotiable, soldier,” Sirei says. “This bonding exercise will help you all feel closer. It’ll benefit the war effort.”

I feel close to everyone already. I spent a hundred days fighting alongside them. I really don’t think I need to be any closer to Yugamu. “Maybe you could move one of the unused beds into our room, then? Right now someone has to sleep on the couch, and that’s not really what it’s designed for. Being underslept is going to hurt the war effort, right?”

“Oh, well,” Sirei says, “we can’t have that.”

The couch is gone when Takumi next returns to the room.

Takumi closes his eyes for a moment. He’s really hoping that, when he opens them again, there will somehow be two beds.

No such luck.

“Did you remove the couch?” Yugamu asks, conversationally, lounging in the desk chair.

“Why would I remove the couch?” Takumi demands. He sighs, scrubs a hand across his forehead. “I’m sorry. I think it’s my fault it’s gone. I told Sirei we weren’t sharing the bed.”

“Ah,” Yugamu says. “I could sleep on the floor, I suppose.”

It’s so tempting to say yes.

“I can’t make you do that,” Takumi says, extremely reluctantly. “Let’s just give him what he wants.”

Yugamu nods, solemnly. “Bond.”

Takumi really doesn’t like his tone. “Just – share the bed, I mean. I’ll take this side. Can you try to stay on that one, maybe?”

Takumi’s mind wanders vaguely towards consciousness and straight into a puzzle. He thinks he’s being... hugged, or spooned? It feels like someone’s arms are around him; it reminds him of how he and Karua used to share a bed if she had nightmares during their sleepovers. But... but he can’t feel anyone against his back or his chest; all he can feel are the arms.

He remembers who he’s sharing a bed with, suddenly, and he jolts into full awareness. He tried to set sides of the bed; did that guy seriously just ignore him?

Wait. Wait, Yugamu’s all the way over there, so who—

It takes Takumi a moment to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Yugamu has technically remained on his side. But he’s stretched his arm across the bed and wrapped it twice around Takumi’s chest. Takumi’s only ever seen him stretch his arms like that in battle, it hadn’t occurred to him that—

This is freaking him out, and Takumi full-body shudders so violently that Yugamu’s eye snaps open.

For a moment, they’re just looking at each other.

“Good morning, Takumi,” Yugamu murmurs.

“What,” Takumi says, “the hell.”

Yugamu’s gaze falls on the arm encircling Takumi, and his eye widens. “Ah—”

He retracts the arm in an instant, whiplike. Sending Takumi spinning off the bed and crashing to the floor.

“Yugamu!” Takumi snaps, once he’s managed to get his breath back.

Yugamu’s face appears over the side of the bed, looking down at him. “Are you all right?”

Takumi massages his sore elbow with one hand. “I mean, I’ll live?”

He’s expecting Yugamu to say something creepy in response to that: what a pity, maybe. All Yugamu says is, “I’m extremely sorry.”

It startles Takumi into really focusing on him. He looks genuinely contrite, he – is he blushing?

“You can’t,” Takumi begins. He takes a moment to clamber to his feet. “You can’t just...” He doesn’t really know how to articulate what he’s trying to say. He worms his arm through the air, in an effort to convey the concept of wrapping a sleeping person up with a weird squiggly arm.

“I must have done it in my sleep,” Yugamu says. “I apologise. I’d... really prefer it if you hadn’t seen my extended arm outside battle.”

His blush deepens as he’s speaking. Is he... is he embarrassed? About his arm?

“Makes two of us,” Takumi mutters.

Yugamu breaks his gaze from Takumi’s, in a way that suddenly makes Takumi feel a little bad.

“I mean,” Takumi says, “your arm’s a real help to us in battle. I just... don’t want it around me when I’m not expecting it.”

“I understand,” Yugamu says. Which, honestly, is more than Takumi was hoping for from this guy.

It takes Takumi a while to get to sleep the next night, even when Yugamu’s not in the bed yet. He can’t stop wondering if he’s going to wake up wrapped in that unsettling arm. Yugamu genuinely seemed to regret it, but, if it’s an action he took in his sleep, is there really any way to guarantee it won’t happen again?

Takumi wakes up with his personal space unviolated, fortunately. He sits up, glances over at Yugamu – he’ll thank the guy if he’s awake, at least he’s making an effort – and—

What—

Yugamu’s still sleeping. Both of his arms are extended, but they’re nowhere near Takumi; they’ve been woven grotesquely through half the bars of the bed’s headboard and tied together at the wrists.

Takumi stares at the scene, feeling sick. This is – this can’t have happened in Yugamu’s sleep, why would he—

Was he just... trying to make sure he wouldn’t touch Takumi in his sleep again? Trying to make sure his arms were out of the way?

This... this is a little extreme, right?

Takumi ends up hanging around until the morning announcement wakes Yugamu up. He watches unhappily as Yugamu untangles his arms from the bedframe.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Takumi asks.

“It’s a little embarrassing, I suppose, to know you might wake up and see them,” Yugamu admits, retracting his arms to their normal length.

Takumi shakes his head. “I mean... physically uncomfortable. Does it hurt?”

Yugamu’s puzzled glance at him speaks as clearly as the words would: why would that be a problem?

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Takumi says. “I... appreciate the effort you’re making. But you don’t have to go to such, uh, weird lengths.”

“It’s just so hard not to touch you,” Yugamu says.

Takumi chokes on thin air. Doubles over, drops into a coughing fit.

“I doubt I’d be able to keep my arms on my side in my sleep,” Yugamu continues, apparently oblivious to Takumi’s struggle to breathe. “I need to take practical measures to avoid a repeat of last night. Or the night before last, I suppose, now.”

Takumi manages to get his lungs under control, straightens up again. He feels like his face is going to burn off. “I mean, that night wasn’t great, but... there’s got to be a way that doesn’t involve tying your arms into knots, right?”

Yugamu holds his arms out in front of him, frowning at them. “I’ll experiment with sleeping drugs. If I can develop something that makes me sleep deeply enough, it may solve the problem. The issue is making sure I’ll still wake up if the alarm sounds.”

“Yeah, that sounds better.” If Yugamu’s able to develop something good, maybe Takumi should ask if he can take some himself; it might mean he’s a little more well-rested for their battles, giving that sleeping abruptly seems to have become very complicated.

“Y—” Takumi has to pause, swallow. “Yugamu.”

He actually slept a lot better last night, didn’t wake up until the morning announcement. When he’d last checked in on him, Yugamu had been in the bio lab, working on a sleeping drug; he’d sounded optimistic about it. Takumi had allowed himself to hope that, by the time Yugamu came to bed, the problem would be solved.

Technically, there were no problems with Yugamu’s arms last night. Nothing snaked around Takumi in his sleep. Nothing got tied to the headboard.

Now that Takumi is awake, the reason for that is extremely apparent.

“Good morning, Takumi,” Yugamu says, smiling at him.

“Yugamu,” Takumi says, “did you cut off your fucking arms?”

Yugamu glances down at where his arms aren’t. “I thought this would resolve our issue.”

Takumi takes several deep breaths. Tries to find the words to respond to that. He’s not sure the words exist.

“I had trouble perfecting the drug,” Yugamu says. “I needed some sleep. This seemed like a quick solution.”

“What is wrong with you?” Takumi asks, desperately.

“When I need my arms back, all I need to do is die,” Yugamu explains, his tone a lot more matter-of-fact than Takumi can handle right now. “The Revive-O-Matic will bring me back, complete with arms. Then I can cut them off again for the night. I should have thought of it sooner, really.”

“Please,” Takumi says, “please, please never do this again.”

Yugamu frowns slightly. “Are you sure? I’d say it’s the most enjoyable option, and it certainly prevented my arms from ending up anywhere they’re not supposed to be.”

Takumi just isn’t going to think about the ‘most enjoyable option’ part of that. “Your arms are supposed to be attached to your shoulders. I don’t know where they are right now—”

“I’ve stored them in the fridge for now.”

“—but they are definitely not where they’re supposed to – Yugamu, why would you put your severed arms in with our food?”

Yugamu gives what looks like an attempt at a shrug. It is difficult to tell, given that he doesn’t have any fucking arms.

“Look,” Takumi says. He can feel the colour rising in his face; he can’t believe he’s saying this. “If you really can’t stop reaching out in the night, can’t you just... just sleep closer? So you can just spoon me, like a normal person? I think – I think that’d be easier to handle.”

The morning announcement plays, although Takumi’s been lying awake for a while. Yugamu stirs against his back as it comes to a close.

“How was last night for you?” Yugamu murmurs into the nape of Takumi’s neck.

Takumi winces. “Do you have to phrase it like that?”

“You’ve had trouble with our previous sleeping arrangements,” Yugamu says. “Did this one satisfy you?”

Satisfy is a strong word. But, after the traumatic last few mornings Takumi’s had, he can’t really complain about waking up in somebody’s normal-length, solidly attached arms.

Honestly, it’s almost nice, in a way. He hadn’t anticipated how isolating it would feel, travelling back to the start. Caring so much about all the others, when he’s just a stranger to them. Spending half the night in the embrace of his creepiest friend isn’t necessarily the gesture of affection he’d choose from a list, but he guesses it’s not nothing.

“You know,” Takumi says, “so long as you still have all your limbs, I think I’m fine.”

Yugamu’s quiet for just long enough to make him nervous. Takumi squirms out of his arms and rolls over to face him, just to make absolutely sure Yugamu does have all his limbs. He... he looks fine?

“You’ve shown me a great deal of care and concern,” Yugamu says at last. “I want you to know I appreciate it.”

“Honestly,” Takumi says, “I would say I showed a normal amount of concern for someone whose ally cut his own arms off.”

“Still. It means a lot to me.” Yugamu goes quiet for a moment longer, watching him across the bed with an uncharacteristically serious gaze. “The longer we share this space, the more I’m starting to feel that I might want to kill you after all.”

Takumi breathes in and out, slowly, and tries to take that as the compliment that it is.

Still. “Please don’t.”

Yugamu laughs, quietly. “I suppose I can restrain myself for now.”