Work Text:
Hiyoko had been doing her usual thing: stomping down the hallway, muttering complaints loud enough that the walls themselves seemed tired of hearing them.
“Ugh, she tripped again. Like, how do you even trip on air? Is the floor attacking her on purpose? She’s so annoying.”
She didn’t realize someone was standing right behind her until a deep, theatrical voice replied:
“Indeed… the Nurse of Endless Mishaps walks a cursed path. Her calamities are rivaled only by the spirits of blundering fiends from the Seventh Netherplane.”
Hiyoko flinched so hard she almost kicked him on instinct.
“Wh— why are you standing there like some weird anime intro?!”
Gundham didn’t blink.
He rarely did.
He just folded his arms, cloak rustling like it had its own dramatic theme music.
“I was merely observing. You spoke of the Clumsy One with great disdain. A shared sentiment, it seems.”
Hiyoko squinted up at him, suspicious.
“…Wait. You don’t like her either?”
“I do not dislike her,” Gundham corrected, adjusting his scarf with unnecessary intensity. “I simply… find her perpetual chaos to be hazardous to the Demon Emperor’s domain. Shes nearly stepped on Jum-P twice now.”
Hiyoko snorted.
Like, actually snorted.
“And she cries every time someone breathes near her,” Hiyoko added. “It’s so fake. I swear she’s doing it on purpose.”
Gundham nodded, solemn as if they were discussing an ancient war.
“An endless waterfall of tears… a sorrowful performance that summons headaches from dimensions unknown.”
Hiyoko blinked.
Then grinned.
“…Dude. Did you just call her dramatic? Coming from you?”
Gundham stiffened, affronted.
“The Supreme Overlord’s theatrics are a sacred ritual, not to be compared to her uncontrolled wailing!”
Hiyoko actually laughed— a sharp little sound that bounced off the hallway.
It surprised them both.
“You’re weird,” she said, but it was softer this time. “Like, really weird. But… funny, I guess.”
Gundham’s ears turned a suspicious shade of red.
“It is not ‘funny.’ It is the creed of my lineage.”
“Sure, whatever, edge-lord.”
She started walking.
He fell into step beside her without being asked.
Hiyoko glanced at him.
“…So, uh. If you ever wanna… vent about her tripping over your hamster or summat? I guess you can talk to me.”
Gundham looked down at her like she’d just offered him a forbidden pact.
“A mutual alliance forged in shared grievances…” he murmured. “Very well. I accept.”
Hiyoko rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
“God, you’re such a nerd.”
“And yet,” Gundham replied, “you continue to walk beside me.”
She didn’t argue.
For reasons she didn’t quite understand yet—
she didn’t want to.
They didn’t talk for a bit. Not because it was awkward or anything—more like both of them were waiting to see who would break the silence first.
Turned out it was Hiyoko.
“So… do your hamsters, like, actually understand you? Or is that just part of your whole… demon-lord thing?”
Gundham held his chin the way someone absolutely begging to monologue would.
“They are my Dark Devas, sworn companions who—”
"Dude. Just say ‘yes or no.’”
He paused, defeated.
“…Yes. They understand me.”
Hiyoko raised an eyebrow, but she wasn’t mocking him this time.
“That’s actually kinda cute.”
Gundham blinked.
Cute was not a word usually applied to him.
Threatening? Mysterious? Theatrically overcommitted? Sure. But cute?
He adjusted his scarf again, because suddenly it was very warm in this hallway.
“I—I shall accept this compliment for the Devas only.”
“Yeah yeah,” she said, waving a hand. “You’re totally not blushing.”
“I am not—”
Hiyoko smirked, satisfied.
They kept walking. A couple students passed by, giving the very strange duo a double-take, but neither of them seemed to care.
Hiyoko kicked lightly at the floor.
“Y’know… you’re not as irritating as I thought. I mean, you’re still weird, but you’re not annoying-weird. Just… you-weird.”
“A most formidable assessment,” Gundham replied. “And you, Saionji… your venom is sharp, yet oddly honest. Few speak so plainly.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, nose up.
“It was intended as one.”
That stopped her for half a second.
She looked at him sidelong—still walking, just a touch slower.
“…Huh.”
For once, she didn’t have a comeback ready.
Gundham didn’t push it. He wasn’t exactly smooth himself, but he understood when to let an opening sit quietly instead of filling it with theatrics.
They reached the split in the hallway where they usually went separate directions.
Except—neither of them moved.
Hiyoko glanced at him again.
“…You walking me to practice or something?”
Gundham cleared his throat.
“The Devas and I have… business in this wing.”
She snorted.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He straightened, offended, but she was already stepping forward.
“Fine. Come on then. But don’t stare too hard while I warm up, okay? I don’t need you doing that weird hand-gesture summoning thing on me.”
“I would never,” Gundham replied, following her anyway, “invoke forbidden rites without consent.”
“Good.”
Her voice was light.
His was steady.
And the space between them, for the first time, felt… easy.
Hiyoko’s practice room was empty when they slipped inside, sunlight catching on the polished floor. She dropped her bag in the corner, already pulling her hair up, movements quick and practiced.
“You can sit or whatever,” she said. “Just don’t let your hamsters run onto the floor. I don’t wanna step on one and traumatize us both.”
Gundham set his scarf down in a neat pile, like he was preparing for a ritual. The Dark Devas peered out from the scarf, taking in the room with the gravity of tiny generals.
“They will remain stationed,” he assured her. “This space shall be respected.”
“Good,” she said, stretching her legs out. “Last thing I need is Mikan screaming because she ‘accidentally’ kicked one while falling over nothing.”
Gundham made a noise that was definitely a restrained groan.
“A catastrophe I pray we never witness.”
Hiyoko bit back a grin. She bent forward into her warm-up, arms reaching past her toes, her back curving gracefully. For once, she didn’t make a snarky comment about him watching. She just… trusted he wouldn’t be weird about it.
And he wasn’t.
If anything, he looked strangely focused—not on her, but on the quiet, the slow rhythm of her practice, like it was a ritual he didn’t understand but respected anyway.
After a minute, Hiyoko spoke without looking at him.
“You know… most people don’t come in here. They say it ‘smells like feet’ or whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t. They’re just dramatic.”
Gundham nodded once, very firm.
“Mortals fear places marked by dedication. They cannot comprehend the aura left by hard work.”
Hiyoko blinked, then smirked.
“Are you saying they’re lazy?”
“I am saying,” he replied, “that you possess discipline rare among your peers.”
That got her attention.
She sat up, turning to look at him fully.
“…You actually mean that, huh.”
“I do.”
It wasn’t flowery, or theatrical, or wrapped in dark-lord nonsense.
Just blunt. Honest.
Hiyoko looked away a second too fast.
“Whatever. I already know I’m good.”
But her voice wavered the tiniest bit, warm around the edges.
She stood and started her opening steps, the faint tapping of her feet filling the room. Gundham watched—not gawking, not judging. More like he’d been handed something surprisingly delicate and wasn’t sure how tightly to hold it.
Halfway through her sequence, the door creaked open.
Mikan peeked in, flustered already.
“H-Hiyoko-chan? I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just—”
Hiyoko’s eye twitched so visibly Gundham almost applauded.
“Oh my god, what now pig-barf?”
“K-kyaaah! Im sorry... I know im pig-barf b-but i dropped my disinfectant somewhere in this hallway and I think it rolled under your door—”
Before Hiyoko could unleash something scalding, Gundham rose to his full height, cloak draped over his arm like he was preparing for combat.
“Fear not, Nurse! This chamber is under my protection. No stray bottles shall invade these sacred grounds.”
Mikan blinked in confusion.
“…Huh?”
Hiyoko blinked aswell.
Gundham gently stepped past her, retrieved the tiny bottle from near the door, and handed it back with a stiff nod.
“Your quest is complete. You may depart.”
Mikan bowed rapidly, nearly tripping in the process before scurrying out.
The second the door clicked shut, Hiyoko stared at him.
“…You did that on purpose.”
Gundham shrugged, settling back down.
“It seemed… efficient.”
Hiyoko tried very hard not to smile.
“Efficient, huh? Sure.”
She took her starting pose again.
But this time, when she started dancing, the room felt lighter.
Not because of the sunlight.
Because he stayed.
...
By the time Hiyoko finished her routine, a light sheen of sweat made her bangs cling to her forehead. She wasn’t winded—she never was—but she shook out her wrists like she was finally loosening the last of her nerves.
Gundham hadn’t moved from his spot in a while until he went to get his scarf off the floor. Gently picking up the devas aswell.
When she looked over, he straightened a little, like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing.
“Well?” she challenged. “Does the Demon Emperor approve?”
Gundham cleared his throat, choosing his words with almost comical care.
“Your movements… carry precision. And resolve. A dance not born of vanity, but… conviction.”
“So… good?”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
“…Very.”
She blinked.
Hiyoko knew she was talented. She didn’t need praise.
But something about getting it from him—the dramatic weirdo who never shut up about curses and dark lords—hit… different.
She smirked mostly to cover that feeling.
“Obviously.”
She walked over to her bag, rummaging for a water bottle, but paused halfway through stretching her arm.
“Ow. Okay, that’s new.”
Immediately, Gundham jolted like someone had set off a trap.
“You are wounded?!”
“It’s just sore, idiot,” she said, rotating her shoulder. “Happens sometimes if I practice before warming up properly.”
“A grave miscalculation,” he muttered, already standing. “Such strain may invite the wrath of—”
“Gundham,” she cut in, “if you say ‘evil spirits,’ I’m kicking you.”
He froze mid-speech.
“…Understood.”
She rolled her shoulder again, wincing a little. It wasn’t terrible, just annoying… though she hated showing any weakness in front of people.
Gundham must’ve picked up on that, because instead of making a big scene, he approached quieter, softer than usual.
“If you will allow it,” he said, lowering his voice, “I know a method to ease the tension.”
Hiyoko squinted.
“If you try any creepy ritual—”
“It’s just a stretch,” he replied quickly. “A normal one.”
She eyed him like she expected him to burst into flames from saying the word “normal,” but she nodded.
“…Fine. Show me.”
He stepped behind her, careful not to crowd her, and guided her arm up—not touching her, just indicating the motion.
“The Devas often injure themselves in pursuit of glory,” he explained. “This technique assists their recovery.”
“You… stretch your hamsters?”
“They are elite warriors. They require care.”
“Whatever you say.. Ion even know how one would stretch their hamsters.”
She followed the stretch, and the muscle eased almost instantly. A small, relieved breath slipped out before she could stop it.
“…Okay. That actually worked.”
Gundham allowed himself the tiniest, proudest smile.
“I am… glad.”
Hiyoko lowered her arm and looked at him with a different expression—less guarded, less sharp. Like she was finally reassessing him in real time.
“…You’re not bad, y’know,” she muttered. “For someone who talks like he swallowed a fantasy novel.”
Gundham’s ears went pink, he of course hid it by adjusting his scarf, as per usual but it didn't really help all that much.
“And you,” he replied, “are not nearly as cruel as you pretend to be.”
She snorted.
“Don’t spread that around.”
“A vow of secrecy,” he said solemnly. “By the decree of the Underworld.”
“Gundham.”
“Yes?”
“Just say ‘okay.’”
“…Okay.”
She laughed—quiet, genuine, unexpected.
And he didn’t look away this time.
The air between them settled into something warm. Comfortable. Familiar in a way it had no right to be yet.
Hiyoko grabbed her bottle, slung her bag over her shoulder, and jerked her chin toward the door.
“Walk me back?”
Gundham didn’t hesitate.
“Of course, and.. You’ve pushed your mortal vessel far enough for the day. Allow me to bear this burden. Consider it a pact: you rest, and I’ll handle the weight.”
Hiyoko blinked, then blushed in slight embarrassment.
“Huh.. A-alright i guess.. W-weirdo”
And the two of them stepped out together, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
They hadn’t even made it halfway down the hallway before someone stepped into their path like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
Nagito tilted his head, hands tucked behind him, smile way too innocent to be real.
“Oh? Walking together? That’s unusual. Or… maybe not unusual anymore?”
Hiyoko nearly choked on air.
“What the hell, creepy hair? Move.”
Nagito didn’t move. In fact, he somehow leaned closer without actually stepping forward.
“I’m just observing. It’s always interesting when two people who normally avoid each other suddenly start… gravitating.”
Gundham stiffened beside her, cloak rustling like it sensed danger.
“Filthy cur,” he declared. “Cease your insinuations at once.”
Nagito’s eyes lit up like someone had just handed him a brand-new reason to feel despair.
“Oh no, no insinuations. I would never,” he said, waving his hands. “It’s just… refreshing to see unlikely bonds forming. It fills me with hope.”
Hiyoko glared daggers.
“You’re saying that with your ‘I know something you don’t’ face. Stop that.”
Nagito chuckled softly.
“Am I? I didn’t notice.”
“Liar,” she snapped, poking him in the arm. “You’re totally doing it on purpose.”
Nagito looked between the two of them—Gundham standing too straight, Hiyoko standing too close—and his smile widened by maybe half a centimeter.
“So,” he said lightly, “is this a partnership? A pact? Or maybe…” He tapped a finger to his chin. “…a budding connection forged through mutual annoyance?”
“Enough!” Gundham barked, one hand lifting like he was about to summon a mid-tier curse. “Your presence is fouling the air with misinterpretations.”
Nagito didn’t flinch.
He just blinked slowly, amused.
“Right, right. My mistake.” A beat. “But you know… you two do look cute walking together.”
There was a full second where neither of them reacted.
Then:
Hiyoko exploded, flushing like crazy aswell.
“WE— WHAT— NO— WHY ARE YOU SAYING STUPID THINGS?!”
Gundham sputtered something equally incoherent, something about “unfounded prophecies” and “forbidden accusations whilst subtlely trying to hide his blush.”
Nagito just smiled, serene as a saint.
“Ah… how hopeful.”
He stepped aside with a little bow, like he was granting them passage through some imaginary gate.
“Please continue. Don’t let me interrupt your… moment.”
“It’s not a moment!” Hiyoko yelled as she stormed past.
Gundham followed, cloak flaring dramatically behind him.
“Nagito Komaeda,” he growled over his shoulder, “your meddling shall be remembered by the Dark Devas!”
“Good,” Nagito beamed. “I’d hate to be forgettable.”
They turned the corner, out of sight.
Hiyoko was still fuming.
“I swear,” she muttered, “I’m gonna shove that smile down his throat.”
Gundham allowed a very small, very smug noise.
“Do not let his words trouble you,” he said. “He thrives on chaos.”
“Yeah, well,” she grumbled, cheeks still warm, “he needs to mind his own business.”
Gundham glanced at her—really glanced, not the usual sidelong stolen look.
“…But,” she mumbled, eyes forward, “thanks for… y’know. Not letting him get weird about it.”
Gundham lifted his chin slightly.
“It is the duty of a warrior to repel unwanted intrusions.”
“That’s… not the worst line you’ve ever said.”
“High praise,” he replied, voice softer.
They kept walking.
Not touching.
Not talking for a moment.
But closer than before—close enough that if Nagito peeked around the corner, he’d probably start giggling like the gremlin he is.
They walked in silence for a bit. Not tense, not awkward… just the kind of quiet that sneaks in when both people are thinking about the same thing and pretending they’re not.
Hiyoko eventually huffed, kicking lightly at the floor tiles.
“He’s so annoying,” she muttered. “Always sticking his nose in stuff that’s not his business.”
Gundham nodded, arms folded in his usual dramatic way.
“Komaeda is a creature of chaos. He consumes discomfort like sustenance.”
“Yeah, well, he better find a new snack,” she grumbled.
But the redness in her cheeks hadn’t completely gone away.
And Gundham noticed.
He didn’t comment—he was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Instead, he let the conversation drift somewhere safer.
“Your performance earlier,” he said, “was… impressive.”
Hiyoko looked up at him, caught off-guard.
“…Seriously? You’re bringing that back up?”
“It bears repeating,” he said simply. “Your discipline is formidable. It is obvious you have devoted countless hours to your craft.”
Hiyoko stared at him like he’d started speaking English for the first time.
Then she looked away.
“…Thanks,” she said quietly. “Most people don’t… say stuff like that. Not without sounding fake.”
Gundham dipped his head, solemn.
“I do not speak falsely.”
“Yeah,” she said, almost smiling. “I know.”
They reached thr courtyard door. Afternoon light spilling through, warm and golden, catching the dust in the air.
Hiyoko slowed at the entrance.
“You heading back to your… hamster lair thing?”
“My chambers,” he corrected gently. “But yes.”
She rolled her eyes like she didn’t find that oddly endearing.
“I need to go shower,” she said. “Practice was kinda rough today.”
Gundham nodded, turning slightly.
But she didn’t walk off.
Not yet.
“…Hey, wait,” Hiyoko said suddenly.
He paused mid-step.
She was fidgeting with her sleeve—barely, but more than she ever did in front of people.
“So uh… you gonna come watch again tomorrow? Or do you wanna, like…” She cleared her throat, trying for casual and absolutely not sounding casual. “…I dunno. Hang out after. Or before. Whatever.”
Gundham blinked like he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
“The Dark Devas and I,” he began carefully, “would be honored to attend your rituals again.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.
“That’s not what I asked.”
He faltered.
“Oh.”
She waited.
Then, slowly—awkwardly—Gundham straightened, meeting her eyes.
“…Yes. I would like that.”
Hiyoko’s grin was quick and sharp, but softer than her usual bite.
“Good.”
She took a step backward toward the showers.
“See you tomorrow, edge lord.”
Gundham placed a hand over his chest, as if accepting some sacred vow.
“Until then, Saionji.”
She turned on her heel and walked off—light, confident, almost bouncing.
Gundham stood there for a moment longer, cloak settled around him, the Devas peeking out like they already knew what was happening before he did.
One of them squeaked.
Gundham let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“…A curious development indeed.”
Hiyoko showed up to the practice room earlier than usual the next afternoon.
Not because she needed extra warm-up time.
She just… didn’t want to look like she was waiting for him.
Which, obviously, she wasn’t.
She was stretching when the door creaked open, and she hid her quick glance behind a hair flip—
Only to see Sonia Nevermind step inside, hands neatly clasped and smile bright as sunrise.
“Oh! Saionji-san! I apologize for intruding,” Sonia said, bowing slightly. “I was passing by and heard movement. I wished to greet you.”
Hiyoko blinked.
“Oh. Uh. Hi, Princess.”
Sonia wandered in like she genuinely had no intention of bothering anyone. She glanced around the room with curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
“This space suits you,” Sonia said. “It feels… disciplined. Focused. Very much your atmosphere.”
Hiyoko, caught off-guard for the second time in under a minute, cleared her throat.
“Yeah. I mean. Obviously.”
Sonia giggled softly. “Of course.”
Hiyoko stretched her leg higher, trying very hard to look normal.
“So uh,” she said casually, “what brings you here? You don’t usually hang around this wing.”
“Oh! I was searching for Tanaka-san.”
Hiyoko almost fell over.
“Why?”
Sonia clasped her hands, sighing dreamily.
“He mentioned yesterday that he wished to retrieve a special herb to help soothe animal muscle strain. I thought perhaps he would teach me how to prepare it. I admire the dedication he has to his companions.”
Hiyoko’s face twitched.
…Of course she admired that. Of course she’d come looking.
Before she could unpack whatever that feeling was, the door opened again.
This time, it was him.
Gundham stepped inside with the kind of theatrical entrance he probably practiced in the mirror. The Devas peeked out of his scarf, squeaking excitedly at the sight of familiar faces.
He froze when he noticed Sonia first.
“Lady Sonia,” he said, bowing with exaggerated respect. “Forgive my delayed arrival. The path to the botanical stores was beset with treacherous obstacles.”
Sonia beamed. “A delight to see you as always, Tanaka-san!”
Hiyoko scowled at how warm that smile looked.
Gundham shifted, turning to Hiyoko next—and his tone immediately changed, dipping into something more grounded, more careful.
“Saionji. I trust your afternoon has begun without misfortune.”
She smirked a little, sitting back on her heels.
“Yeah. Didn’t trip over any air like someone we know, so I’m good.”
Gundham huffed, amused.
Before either of them could say anything else, Sonia chimed in:
“I do hope I am not interrupting a meeting between you two?”
Hiyoko opened her mouth to speak—something snarky, probably—but Gundham answered first.
“You are not interrupting,” he said. Then, after a beat, “However… I am expected here.”
Hiyoko felt her heart jump at how simply he said it.
Sonia blinked, surprised.
“Oh! I see. In that case, I shall not overstay.” She smiled politely. “May I ask one thing before I go?”
Gundham nodded.
“You said yesterday there was an herb I might learn to use? If it is not troublesome, might you show me later—after your time here?”
Gundham wasn’t oblivious. He understood tone. Courtesy. Intent.
He also knew what Hiyoko looked like when she pretended she didn’t care.
He straightened with a kind of gentle precision.
“I can do so,” he said. “But not now. I have promised my presence here.”
Hiyoko tried so hard not to react that she accidentally flexed her hand too tightly.
Sonia, to her credit, didn’t look offended—if anything, she looked pleased.
“That is admirable. I shall look forward to it later, then.” She gave a soft wave. “Please enjoy your practice together.”
“Hey—” Hiyoko started, “it’s not—”
But Sonia was already slipping out with perfect princess grace.
The door shut quietly behind her.
And suddenly, the room felt a little warmer.
Gundham adjusted his cloak.
“She sought knowledge. Nothing more.”
“I didn’t ask,” Hiyoko muttered.
He blinked.
“…Ah.”
She stretched one leg, pretending she wasn’t bothered at all.
“You’re here now, so make yourself useful instead of standing like a weird statue.”
Gundham’s shoulders relaxed.
“Very well.”
He stepped forward, the Devas settling on his arm.
“Where shall today’s ritual begin?”
Hiyoko smirked despite herself.
“Same place as yesterday. And don’t get all dramatic again.”
“No promises,” he said.
But he stayed.
Again.
And she didn’t mind.
Again.
...
Hiyoko didn’t stomp out of the practice room when they finished an hour later, but her steps were sharper than usual.
She wasn’t upset.
Obviously.
It was just hot. And annoying. And whatever.
Gundham walked beside her, the Devas perched on his shoulders like tiny guardians. He was talking about something—herbs, probably—but she only heard half of it because her brain kept replaying Sonia’s smile and how stupidly polite Gundham had been.
She shoved her hands into her sleeves.
“You’re being.. Odd,” Gundham said suddenly, glancing down at her.
“I’m not,” she snapped instantly.
He tilted his head. “You are glaring at the ceiling tiles as though they insulted your lineage.”
“I just don’t like ceilings. Shut up.”
Gundham paused, clearly trying to decode that one.
They walked a little farther before turning a corner—
And of course, of course, Sonia was right there.
Standing with Nagito.
Chatting like it was nothing.
And then both of them turned toward Gundham and Hiyoko like the universe hated her specifically.
“My!” Sonia said brightly. “You two finished already?”
Hiyoko’s eye twitched.
“Yeah, sorry, did we interrupt your princess meetup or something?”
Nagito perked up, smile too sweet to be innocent.
“Oh? Saionji-chan, you sound tense. Did something happen? Maybe you're upset that Tanaka-kun was supposed to meet with Sonia later~?”
Hiyoko froze.
“No.”
Then, louder: “No! Why would I care what those two do?”
Sonia blinked politely. “Ah—Saionji-san, I simply asked him about herbs—”
“I know! You can keep your plant date, I don’t care!”
Gundham coughed. Flushing hard.
“Saionji—”
Nagito practically glowed.
“Oh wow,” he murmured. “I haven’t seen someone this jealous since Hinata tried to stop Kazuichi from—”
“SHUT UP!” Hiyoko snapped, cheeks blazing.
Nagito just tucked his hands in his pockets and hummed cheerfully.
“I mean, it’s kind of cute. Unexpected. Refreshing.”
“I’m not jealous!”
Hiyoko took a step forward, pointing aggressively.
“I don’t get jealous. Especially not over him.”
Gundham blinked as if he’d been unexpectedly hit by a stray emotional shovel.
“…Over me?”
“N-NO!” she sputtered, suddenly furious at her own face for betraying her. “Don’t say stuff like that with your whole dramatic voice, it sounds weird!”
Sonia tried to save the situation—sweetly, gently.
“Saionji-san, please do not misunderstand. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable!”
“You look uncomfortable,” Nagito whispered, delighted.
Hiyoko stomped her foot.
Her whole body was vibrating with the effort of pretending nothing mattered.
“You know what? I’m leaving. Good luck with your plant lessons or whatever. Don’t poison each other.”
And she stormed off.
Well.
Tried to storm off.
Gundham followed two steps behind her—quietly at first, then with purpose.
“Saionji,” he said softly, catching up, “I did not intend to—”
“Don’t say anything,” she muttered, still walking fast.
The hallway was empty now, air buzzing with everything unsaid.
Gundham slowed his pace, voice low.
“…I did not agree to meet her because I value her time over yours.”
Hiyoko’s steps faltered.
Just for a second.
Not that she’d admit it.
She kept going anyway.
Too fast, too defensive, too flustered.
“…Whatever,” she said finally, cheeks still hot. “You can hang out with whoever you want. I don’t care.”
But she didn’t walk quite as angrily after that.
And Gundham walked beside her this time—not behind.
...
The next day rolled in quiet. Too quiet, honestly, for an island full of people who can’t go five minutes without drama. Hiyoko wandered toward the beach mostly out of habit, half-expecting Gundham to already be there “training the Dark Lord of Tides” or whatever nonsense he was on about yesterday.
And sure enough—there he was. Cloak floating dramatically in the breeze like he planned it.
Sonia was standing beside him.
She was smiling. He was gesturing with his arms in that dramatic, swirling way he did when explaining something “arcane.” And Sonia was nodding earnestly like she understood a single thing.
Hiyoko froze mid-step.
What. The. Hell.
She didn’t want to react. She really didn’t. She refused to be that girl who gets jealous because some chick is talking to some dude. But something in her chest gave the tiniest, most annoying squeeze.
Sonia noticed her first. “Ah! Hiyoko! Good morning!”
Gundham turned, cloak whipping around. “Ah. The petite Oracle of Venomous Words arrives. You grace this mortal plane once more.”
She crossed her arms. “Whatever, weirdo. Why’re you two… talking?”
Sonia clasped her hands, bright as always. “Gundham was telling me about his Devas’ dietary preferences! Did you know they each have distinct personalities? It’s quite fascinating!”
Hiyoko narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. Super fascinating. Riveting.”
Gundham blinked at her tone — slow, confused, like he wasn’t sure why she sounded like someone just stole her spotlight.
Before either could say anything, another voice drifted in from behind them.
“Ohhh?” Nagito stepped closer, hands in his pockets, smile dripping mischief. “Did I just sense… tension? Or is that just the sweet aroma of unexpected emotional development?”
Hiyoko whipped around. “Shut up!”
Nagito laughed softly. “Relax. I’m not judging. Jealousy is a perfectly normal sign of—”
Gundham cut him off, flustered. “Silence, jester! The dark flames of envy do not scorch this sacred ground!”
“Uh-huh,” Nagito hummed. “Sure. Then why are you standing like someone just insulted your hamsters?”
Gundham stiffened.
Hiyoko’s cheeks warmed.
Sonia blinked between them, head tilted like a confused golden retriever. “I… feel like I am missing something?”
Hiyoko shot her a too-quick smile. “Nope! Totally fine! Nothing’s happening!”
Nagito grinned. “Whatever you say.”
She swatted his arm. “Nagito, I swear—”
“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, raising his hands. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds— sorry, ‘totally-not-anything-at-all’ people — alone.”
Gundham sputtered. “W-we are NOT—!”
But Nagito was already walking off, humming like he’d just witnessed his favorite kind of chaos: slow-burn, accidental romance.
Left alone, Hiyoko stared at the water, trying to pretend she wasn’t still annoyed.
Gundham tried to speak first, but his voice softened more than he meant it to.
“…You seemed… displeased.”
She didn’t look at him. “I wasn’t.”
He tilted his head. “Was my alliance with the foreign princess somehow… disturbing to you?”
“Ugh, you make everything sound weird,” she muttered. “I just didn’t expect you to— I dunno. Talk to her.”
“Why would that trouble you?”
She finally glanced up at him.
“I said it didn’t.”
He stared for a beat, then nodded slowly.
“…Very well.”
But he didn’t look convinced. And she didn’t walk away.
And together, in this weird little silence that felt way too loaded for two people who insist they don’t care, the waves rolled in and everything felt like it was about to shift.
...
Another morning, and Hiyoko was already pouting in the corner of the rec room, arms crossed and foot tapping, glaring at Gundham and Sonia as they shared a laugh over some trivial observation about library books. Gundham, ever oblivious to anything except the sheer drama of his own aura, merely raised an eyebrow at her.
“You seem… perturbed, Oracle,” he said, voice dripping with mock concern, though the slight twitch of his mouth betrayed amusement.
“I’m not perturbed!” she snapped, but her cheeks colored anyway.
Nagito, lounging nearby, grinned like he’d been waiting all day for this. “Ah, Hiyoko-chan, jealousy suits you,” he teased, voice light but sly. “Gundham’s smiles aren’t usually for anyone so… small.”
Hiyoko’s eyes narrowed, glare sharpening. “Small?! I’m perfectly fine-sized!”
Sonia, ever the diplomat, tried to interject, but Gundham raised a hand. “Let the child have her moment,” he intoned, eyes glinting like a storm cloud.
Hiyoko huffed, but there was no denying that she lingered closer than she normally would, crossing and uncrossing her arms as she watched Gundham. He caught her stare, tilted his head, and made a faint, uncharacteristically soft noise.
Nagito, of course, couldn’t resist. “Oh! It’s like watching two celestial bodies orbit one another, yet neither dares to collide,” he said, flopping back with a dramatic sigh. “Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.”
Hiyoko’s hands shot to her hips, heat rising in her ears. Gundham… just smirked. And somehow, she hated that she liked it
...
Later that day, they were stuck together for a “cleaning duty,” forced into the dusty, cramped storage room. Hiyoko stomped ahead, arms crossed, glaring at the piles of boxes. Gundham followed slowly, calm as always, the shadows under his eyes deepening as he surveyed the mess.
“You’re late,” Gundham said flatly.
“I’m not late!” Hiyoko snapped, stamping a foot.
Nagito, leaning against a shelf with a grin, twirled a broom like a baton. “Ah, the Oracle has arrived,” he said, voice sing-song, eyes sparkling with amusement.
Hiyoko froze mid-step. “…Oracle?”
Gundham’s dark gaze fell on her, unreadable but faintly amused. “Yes. Oracle. You have… a certain perception,” he said simply, as if stating a fact.
Hiyoko blinked, flustered, a pink tint rising to her cheeks. “I-I’m not an Oracle! B-besides.. I only allow Gundham to call me that! N-no other weirdo can!”
Nagito clapped his hands, utterly delighted. “Ah, i see.. How very fitting that he was the one who had come up with it. The Oracle of small but mighty fury!”
Hiyoko spun toward him, fists clenched. “Stop calling me that!”
Gundham, however, merely tilted his head, faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It suits you, Oracle,” he said softly, voice steady. “Try not to deny it.”
Hiyoko’s glare sharpened, but the heat in her chest wasn’t entirely anger this time. She didn’t like being teased, but the way Gundham said it made it sting differently.
Nagito, ever gleeful, leaned closer and whispered dramatically: “Perhaps the Oracle and Gundham-sama could… form an alliance. Against… Mikan, maybe.”
Hiyoko’s eyes snapped to him. “W-Who told you—!”
Gundham, watching her, let a faint chuckle escape. “Seems the Oracle knows more than she admits,” he murmured.
Hiyoko blinked, unsure what to say, and looked away, tugging at the hem of her sleeve. Gundham stepped closer, though his movements were slow, deliberate, careful.
“Oracle,” he said quietly, voice lower than before, almost a whisper, “it… pleases me… that you see things as they are. That you… understand me… more than anyone else.”
Hiyoko froze, heart thudding in her chest. “I-I… what?” she stammered, cheeks heating.
He didn’t rush to explain. Instead, he tilted his head, his usual dramatic presence softened. “I… trust you, Oracle. Perhaps more than I… should.”
Hiyoko’s hands tightened into fists, but her glare faltered. “T-Trust me… more than you should?”
Gundham let out a faint sigh, almost like a storm passing. “Yes. Perhaps… it is foolish. But… it feels… right.”
Hiyoko’s stomach fluttered. She didn’t know if it was anger, embarrassment… or something else entirely. She opened her mouth to reply, but Gundham only gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and turned back to the pile of boxes, as if nothing had happened—yet the weight of his words lingered in the air.
Somewhere down the hall, Nagito’s voice squeaked with obvious glee. “Oh-ho! Confessions in progress! Destiny, perfectly unfolding!”
Hiyoko groaned, hiding her face, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. Gundham, meanwhile, merely watched the dust settle—and watched her, silently, in a way that made the space between them feel… a little warmer.
Hiyoko buried her face in her arms, muttering under her breath. “I-I can’t believe I’m… feeling like this…”
Gundham, still standing near the boxes, didn’t move, didn’t speak. But his gaze lingered on her, steady and unflinching. Hiyoko’s ears burned, and for once, she didn’t argue, didn’t stomp, didn’t snap. She just… felt the strange pull of his words.
“…You’re weird,” she finally mumbled, eyes still hidden.
Gundham’s lips curved into the faintest smirk. “Weird… like you, Oracle,” he said softly.
Hiyoko froze, jaw tightening. “…I-I’m not weird,” she whispered, though the small hitch in her voice betrayed her.
“You are… captivating, Oracle,” Gundham added, almost as if testing the waters. “Do not… misunderstand me.”
Hiyoko’s fists clenched at her sides, but she couldn’t stop the tiny twitch of a smile. “Y-You’re… weird,” she muttered again, a little softer this time.
Gundham’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t tease further. “Weird… together,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Hiyoko’s ears burned hotter. “…Maybe,” she admitted quietly, though she turned away before he could see.
Somewhere in the background, faint laughter echoed—the ever-present, gleeful Nagito, no doubt narrating this entire exchange in his head. Hiyoko groaned, but a part of her… didn’t want it to end.