Archive of Our Own ^beta

It wasn’t as though Sakura had a bad relationship with his landlord, or anything. Hell, he thought they had a pretty good one, all things considered. Sakura paid the rent by slipping a check into his landlord’s mailbox once a month, and his landlord continued to ignore his general existence. Compared to the interactions Sakura used to have before coming to Makochi, they were practically friendly.

Well, not friendly. Even Sakura knew that it was weird to be friends with your landlord. The point was, things were exactly as he wanted them to be: politely civil and uncomplicated by any uncomfortable social interactions. Which was why he was pretty sure that this whole…situation wasn’t personal. It was a cold comfort, if that, but it was the only one he had right now. For once in his life, this (probably) had nothing to do with his hair or his eyes or his shitty personality.

He could’ve at least come to tell me in person, Sakura thought numbly as he stared down at the letter in his hands. The words were typed in impersonal black font, uncaring of the devastating message they’d just delivered to their recipient.

For all that it was a relatively short letter, it’d taken him some time to figure it out. He was kind of dumb, after all; he didn’t really have a head for this financial stuff and never had, and he still tended to struggle with unfamiliar kanji. But he’d figured it out, in the end.

There was a lot of other mumbo jumbo which had clearly been added to try to soften the content of the message (hah!), but the bottom line was, basically, that his landlord was raising the rent.

Well now what?

Sakura wasn’t…poor, or anything. Well, yes, if his foster family was a week late in sending him his monthly allowance he became so anxious he felt like he was about to throw up, a feeling that could persist for days. Yes, near the end of the month he started to decline invitations from his friends to hang out, because he wouldn’t be able to afford the expensive teas, or play the arcade games they liked so much. Yes, his friends had purchased most of the additional things that gave his apartment some semblance of life. Yes, yes, yes.

But other people had it harder than him. There were like…single moms who had to drop out of school to take care of their kids, or siblings that were basically supporting their entire families. Really, he was extremely lucky.

Except rent was going up 10,000 yen next month, and while the monthly allowance technically covered it, there would hardly be anything left afterward. And, oh shit! He needed to do things like eat, and brush his teeth, and stuff!

Fuck.

Okay, he thought, scrubbing a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. This was just…one more thing for him to figure out. He’d researched Furin by himself, negotiated his new living situation by himself, set out for Makochi, all by himself. But holy shit, he wished that things weren’t always so goddamn hard all the time, for once.

Enough. No sense complaining about what couldn’t be changed. He knew better.

(Fucking hell, living in Makochi was making him soft.)

Sakura knew what he needed to do next: think about all his options, decide on the one that would make him hate himself the least, and then do it. But…right now it all felt too big, too overwhelming, and he was so, so tired.

Tomorrow, after school. He’d figure it out tomorrow.

The next morning Sakura woke up, warm sunlight diffusing through his curtains and gently setting his whole room aglow, to find that the problem had not miraculously resolved itself during the night.

“...fuck,” he muttered aloud, and tossed an arm across his face so he could hide in the comforting darkness behind his eyelids just a few seconds longer. It was an ephemeral refuge though, and he knew it, so eventually he forced himself upright so he could get ready for school.

As usual, Suo and Nirei were waiting for him at the corner of mainstreet. Nirei was writing furiously in his little black book, muttering underneath his breath (Sakura didn’t want to know), while Suo stood next to him with that polite, serial-killer smile on his face he sometimes wore (Sakura really didn’t want to know).

Suo, ever vigilant, noticed Sakura approaching first. His smile softened into something a little more genuine, and he called, “Sakura-kun!”

“A-Ah!” Nirei jumped, and was only just able to keep from dropping his pencil. He hastily stowed everything back in his pocket as he turned to Sakura, smiling brightly. “Sakura-san! Good morning!”

“Morning,” Sakura said, and the other two fell in at his side, like they’d done so many times before. Like it really was that easy.

He still wasn’t entirely used to it, this little routine of theirs. After so long of being on his own, of fiercely protecting his back against what felt like the whole world, it felt strange for him to not only tolerate but welcome someone else into his personal space.

He didn’t want to get used to it. He never wanted to take his friends for granted, never wanted to lose sight of what it was he’d gained, because then he might forget how easily it could all be taken away. Clearly he was starting to get too comfortable though, because otherwise he wouldn’t have been so blindsided by that stupid fucking letter—

“Careful,” Suo’s light voice cut through his increasingly dire thoughts, drawing him back to the present. “Smoke might start coming out of your ears.”

“Hah?” Sakura had no idea what he was talking about. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What he meant to say,” Nirei smoothly interjected, “was that you look like you’re very deep in thought this morning, Sakura-san!”

Oh. Okay. Well, that made sense, he supposed. Sakura eyed Suo suspiciously, unable to shake the feeling that his vice-captain had been teasing him just now. When Suo only gave him a beatific smile in response, Sakura decided to let it go. Instead he grunted, “Got some stuff on my mind.”

Immediately Suo’s smile faded, and his warm brown eye slid over to study Sakura’s face. “Oh? Anything we can assist with?”

Sakura hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not he should tell them, but…no. There was no enemy to fight, no innocent townsperson to save. It would only upset them, and then he’d feel even worse than he already did because he hated to make them sad.

“...no,” he said at last. “Nothing you guys can do about it.”

Suo and Nirei glanced at each other. Sakura knew them well enough by now to recognize it as the sort of look that they only ever exchanged around him, but he had no idea what it actually meant. It should probably bother him, that they were clearly conspiring together about him, but it only made him feel warm. It had been a long time since his first day at Furin; with the grace of experience and perspective, he could tell that they were only worried about him.

It was…nice. A little irritating sometimes—they could be such unapologetic busybodies—but nice.

“Even if we can’t help, we wouldn’t mind hearing about it,” Nirei suggested, a little timidly.

“A burden shared is a burden halved, and all that.”

Sakura again considered this, but eventually shook his head. “No, it’s…it’s really not a big deal. I’ve got it under control.” A pause, and then, impulsively, heat rising to his cheeks as he spoke, “But I might…come to you guys later. For. For advice. If I need to.”

The embarrassment of even indirectly admitting that he might eventually, possibly, want help was almost immediately overshadowed by the way Nirei and Suo beamed at him in response, like he’d just given them everything they’d ever could’ve wanted.

“It makes me really happy that you feel like you can rely on us,” Nirei said, far too earnestly.

“Don’t make such a big deal about it,” Sakura muttered, ducking his head to hide the fact that he was bright red. A futile effort, probably—even his ears were burning.

Suo, as usual, didn’t cut him any slack. “Wow, Sakura-kun. That’s quite the blush.”

“Why you…!”

But even as he chased Suo around a little, Nirei laughingly protesting all the while, he couldn’t help a small, private grin. Without even doing anything, his friends had a way of making him feel better.

Later on, sitting in class as the teacher droned away at the front of the room, Sakura tried to hold onto that feeling. It was…hard though, with his blank notebook staring accusingly back at him, reminding him that he still really had no idea what to do.

He took a deep breath, and painstakingly wrote:

• Try to negotiate down the rent increase.

That would be the best route for him, overall. If he could get the rent increase down even to 5,000 yen, that would be enough that he could live…not comfortably, per se, but it felt less catastrophic. He wouldn’t have to change his lifestyle all that much. It’d just mean turning down more invitations to hangout throughout the month—unless his friends would be willing to do stuff that didn’t require spending money.

It makes me really happy that you feel like you can rely on us.

A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t think they’d mind.

The smile faded as he tightened his fingers on his pencil and added the second option to the list:

• Get a part time job.

This option was…significantly more complicated than the first, but not because he was necessarily opposed to getting a job. Actually he’d tried to get one in the past, when he was still living at an old foster family’s home and they’d started making noises about him not doing enough to make up for all the trouble he was causing them.

It was just that shopkeepers took one look at his two-toned hair and heterochromatic eyes, and assumed he was some sort of delinquent who’d steal from the till at the first opportunity. And while he was sure that someone in Makochi would be happy to give him a job (those weirdos, he couldn’t help but think fondly), that was as good as admitting to the whole town that he was having money troubles. The thought of revealing that kind of vulnerability…

He set his jaw. It’d probably be fine. Probably. But while admitting a weakness to his friends at school was one thing, broadcasting it to everyone made him feel way too exposed. He couldn’t get a job in Makochi.

Still. He’d keep it in mind.

The next option was so repulsive that he physically felt his palms go clammy with sweat, but he forced himself to write it down anyway. He was no stranger to doing distasteful things.

• Ask my foster family to send more money.

God. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to.

When he’d left, he’d told them the exact amount he’d calculated he’d need every month to pay rent and basic necessities. He knew it was only a portion of the government subsidies they took in each month for fostering, but he didn’t care. The windfall was a bribe—please, please just let me stay in Makochi. I won’t cause you any trouble anymore, so just let me go.

It was less than they’d get if he just stayed and they pocketed everything except what he needed for basic necessities, but it helped that they’d wanted him gone as much as he’d wanted to leave.

But…

He was terrified that if he asked for more money, they'd decide that it wasn't worth it for him to continue living independently and just tell him to come back home. And that was the one thing he really, really couldn't bear. Anything but that. Not after he'd only just found Makochi.

Plus, he really, really didn't want them to find out about this. It didn't matter that he technically hadn't done anything wrong, that this situation was unmistakably out of his control. If he texted to ask for more money, it felt like admitting that they were right about him, and always had been—that he couldn't cut it on his own, that he was just as useless and incapable as they'd always thought.

Yeah. He'd rather die.

Then, there was option 4. He stared at the page for a long, long time.

…no. If it came to asking his father for money, he would actually, sincerely, rather die. He didn't even know how to get a hold of the man, anyway, so it was kind of a moot point.

Instead, he added a new option beneath “get a part-time job”, and simply wrote, starve.

He'd gone hungry before. Plus, it wasn't as though he was actually going to starve. As long as he was still getting freebies from the Makochi residents, as long as Kotoha continued to feed him, as long as Momijikawa was serious about the offer to make him dinner every once in a while, it'd probably be fine. He hated the thought of taking advantage of all those kind people like that, but it wasn't like anything would really change, since they already did it anyway. And it definitely sounded more tolerable than option 4 and the unspeakable option 5.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, though.

“Sakura-chan!” Kiryu called as he approached Sakura’s desk. It was the end of the day, so the other students were slowly filing out, their chatter creating a cheerful but meaningless smear of background noise. “Are you busy after patrol today? My dad’s out of town, so we were going to play Mario Kart at my place.”

Sakura glanced around to figure out who ‘we’ was, and found Suo, Nirei, and Tsugeura looking back at him. The thought was so tempting that he instinctively opened his mouth to respond in the affirmative, but then he remembered that he wanted to get this whole business with the rent sorted out as soon as possible.

He sighed, and reluctantly shook his head. “Sorry, can’t today. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

“Aw.” Kiryu pouted. When he lifted a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, Sakura absently noted that his nails had been neatly painted a soft, subtle pink. It looked good on him. “But it’s no fun without Sakura-chan…” Before he could feel too pleased about that statement, however, Kiryu added, “I wanted to see your reaction to getting blue-shelled.”

“Hey.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with what you mentioned this morning, would it?” In the brief few moments where Sakura hadn’t been paying attention to him, Suo had casually meandered over, and was now studying Sakura’s face closely.

Hrk. Suo could be really sharp sometimes.

“Yeah,” Sakura agreed cautiously, unable to shake the feeling that he was giving away more than he’d meant to.

Kiryu perked up curiously. “Something happened this morning?”

By this point Nirei and Tsugeura had walked over as well, pulled into orbit by the social gravity of three of their friends all gathered in one place. Nirei, hearing Kiryu’s question, immediately responded with, “Sakura-san said he had a lot on his mind, and that he might come to us for advice later if he needed it!”

“Wow,” Kiryu said, blinking too-wide eyes. “Sakura-chan actually admitted he might want advice on something…”

“You can definitely count on us!” Tsugeura shouted enthusiastically, right in his goddamn ear.

Okay, that’s enough. Sakura shoved to his feet, waving his arm about so his friends would step back and give him a little breathing room. “It’s not that big of a deal! Let’s go already.”

It really, really wasn’t. His friends didn’t need to look so pleased about it.

Thankfully patrol was relatively uneventful, so Sakura wasn’t feeling too tired and there were no obvious scratches or bruises on his face by the time he arrived at his landlord’s door. The hair and the eyes were obviously bad enough—he didn’t want to give his landlord another reason to think he was trouble. He’d need every advantage he could get to negotiate down the rent increase.

As he reached out to ring the doorbell, he couldn’t help but reflect on how much less scary this would be if his landlord was actually from Makochi proper. The people there had a way of making him feel at ease. But apartments within the town limits were way more expensive than the ones on the outskirts, so.

After a few moments of tense silence the door finally opened, revealing the slightly disheveled form of his landlord. Sakura tried not to wince at the smell of cigarettes that wafted out after him, so pungent that it was practically its own presence. 

He must not’ve hid his expression well enough though, because a flicker of irritation crossed his landlord’s face, and he grunted a terse, “What do you want.”

Great. He’d already fucked it up.

“Uh…” Sakura hesitated for a moment, sorting out what he wanted to say in his head first. He hated using formal language. “I, um, I was just coming over to talk about the letter from the other day…”

His landlord’s brows furrowed with confusion for a moment, before smoothing into understanding. “The rent increase?”

Sakura nodded. “Ah…what is the reason for the rent increase?”

“Inflation,” his landlord responded, and then to Sakura’s dismay he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out. “You know how it is.”

What the hell did that mean? Sakura had been hoping he’d say something like some thugs were extorting him for protection money, because if that was the case he could’ve done something about it. Money couldn’t inflate. Could it?

He had a feeling that saying any of that out loud would count against him, however, so he forced himself to nod like he understood. Instead he continued, feeling like nothing so much as a child fumbling around in the dark, “It’s only, 10,000 yen more is kind of a lot for me, so I was wondering if it would be possible to lower the increase? A little? In exchange, I could…I could do stuff around the complex for you. Deliveries and…and stuff.”

His landlord eyed him dubiously. “Do you have any experience with plumbing? Aircon? Electrical?”

Sakura suddenly felt every single one of his clearly inadequate fifteen years. “Um…no.”

There was a long pause as his landlord finally took out a lighter and lit the cigarette, the end turning a bright, cherry red as he sucked in, eyes closed.

Then he opened them again, and Sakura froze, because his gaze was so, so familiar—contemptuous,  derisive, like Sakura wasn’t a person at all, just a nuisance to be gotten rid of as soon as possible. It dragged him back into the time before Furin, before Makochi, and he felt like he was thirteen again, like he was seven again, like he was about a foot tall and getting smaller with every second.

“You know,” his landlord drawled. “Living here is a really good deal. If you can’t afford it, there are plenty of people who would be happy to take your place.”

Sakura’s stomach swooped nauseatingly with panic. His chest felt tight. “I—no, that’s—”

His landlord blew a stream of smoke right into his face, causing him to flinch back. “What’ll it be? If you can’t pay, then we’ll—”

“I can pay it!” Sakura shouted, high and a little breathless. Then he took a deep breath (almost coughing on a lungful of secondhand smoke), desperately trying to wrestle himself back into some semblance of composure, and repeated through gritted teeth, “I can pay it.”

“Good. Anything else?” his landlord asked, clearly bored with the conversation now that he’d made his point.

Sakura’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t know what else to say. If he were Suo, he could’ve talked this man in circles, getting what he wanted and then some. If he were Umemiya, he could’ve made friends with a few cheerful words, and the two of them could’ve left this conversation feeling better than they had when they’d entered it. But he was just stupid Sakura, who was bad with words and bad at being friendly, whose only true skill was useless in this situation.

He didn’t know why he’d expected for this to go any differently.

“No,” Sakura said at last.

His landlord nodded and shut the door without another word, leaving Sakura standing on the doorstep in a choking miasma of cigarette smoke.

…so that was option one crossed off the list.

Later that night, Sakura sat at his table, staring down at the notebook in front of him. The list now looked like this:

• Try to negotiate down the rent increase

• Get a part time job

• Starve

• Ask my foster family to send more money

He had no idea how long it would take for him to find a part time job out of town, especially since he hadn’t even been able to get one the last time he’d looked. The next few months would…probably suck, especially since it seemed as though he’d be doing a lot of option 3 while he waited for option 2 to happen.

He gripped the front of his shirt, biting down hard on his lip. His chest was starting to grow tight again, but this time he couldn’t blame it on the cigarette smoke. This all felt—too much, too overwhelming, and yes he could handle a little hunger but he didn’t want to. Living here had been so, so good, and he’d gotten spoiled when he hadn’t been paying attention.

He wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop fighting. He couldn’t; he wasn’t made for it. Even so, it felt as though he’d been fighting his whole life, one way or another, and in the privacy of his own head, he could admit that he was exhausted. He just wanted to be.

But it seemed as though he wasn’t made for that, either.

Had there always been so little air in his apartment?

And then a soft noise filtered through the panic, snagging his attention: his phone buzzing with a message. He hesitated for a beat, before picking it up and opening it to the group chat he shared with just Nirei, Suo, Kiryu, and Tsugeura.

Nirei: Hey Sakura-san, how did it go today? Everything ok?

He froze, staring at the screen.

No. No, everything was not okay. And there was a moment where he almost said that, where he slowly began to tap out, with shaking fingers, an explanation of what had occurred—

But then he stopped.

What could they do about it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

What would telling them accomplish? Well, it'd make them sad, for one. And it would expose them to an aspect of his life which they didn't really have the context to understand. Sure, they knew that his cupboards were often bare and his room had been completely empty before they'd taken the initiative to fill it, but they didn't know what it was like to live like this from week to week, month to month.

Sakura let out a deep sigh and flopped sideways onto the floor, phone cupped protectively in his hands. He felt strangely calmer, though he couldn’t have said why.

He didn't want them to understand. They could worry about rent and groceries and never having enough when they were proper adults. Or, well…they were all way smarter than him. They'd probably all get really good jobs and then they'd never have to figure it out.

He couldn't fight his landlord. But without a doubt, the very least he could do was protect his friends from this.

Sakura: yeah, all taken care of

Two weeks later

“Woah,” Kotoha said, watching him shovel down the breakfast she’d placed in front of him with wide eyes.

Sakura froze. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel that there was a smear of egg at the corner of his mouth, evidence of how desperate he’d been to get something in his stomach. He self-consciously swiped at it with his thumb, and forced himself to set the sandwich down like it was no big deal. Like his stomach didn’t feel like a hollow, howling pit in his stomach. Like his fingers weren’t twitching with the urge to pick up the sandwich again.

“Sorry,” he said, a little belatedly.

“It’s fine,” Kotoha replied, though something about her expression still seemed…unsettled. “You’re pretty hungry, huh.”

Sakura looked away, shrugged one shoulder. Twitch, twitch went his fingers, but he forced himself to drink a little water instead. He’d gotten more than enough sleep last night, but he still felt tired, for some reason.

Kotaha stared at him for a second longer, glanced down at the sandwich, and then deliberately turned around and gathered up some cleaning supplies. “I’ll just be…” she pointed in the direction of one of the tables, before walking over and applying herself to cleaning its surface so enthusiastically, she almost seemed to be attacking it.

With Kotoha’s eyes finally off him, he picked up the sandwich and bit into it again, though he forced himself to savor it this time. By the time he finally finished, Kotoha had cleaned not only the table in the far corner, but all the others too, even though he hadn’t seen anyone eating at them.

His stomach, ever grumbling and complaining like an unwanted tag along these days, began to subside a little. He wasn’t full by any means, but he felt better than he had before he’d come here.

“Thanks,” he said, and the word must’ve come out a little bit more earnestly than he’d intended it to, because Kotoha gave him another sharp look as she circled back around the counter.

“Sakura…” She set the cleaning supplies down and turned to face him, folding her arms across her chest. “Is something going on?”

This, at least, he could answer honestly. “No.”

Sakura’d started applying to part time jobs the day after his disastrous conversation with his landlord, and while some places had turned him down on sight, some seemed to actually be considering him. If his luck held, he’d probably only have to keep cutting back on meals for another few weeks or so. Things could be better, definitely, but they could be worse.

The only reason he’d been so hungry today was because yesterday he hadn’t eaten anything except for lunch, which had been a few pieces of bread the owner of Cactus had thrust at him as he was walking to school. He knew he could probably go to Pothos for breakfast every day if he really wanted to, but he didn’t want to take advantage of Kotoha’s kindness. She deserved better.

He was handling it.

Kotoha clearly wasn’t buying it, however, because rather than backing off, the pressure of her stare intensified.

“It’s the truth,” Sakura said firmly. Then, realizing that it would take a little more than that to satisfy her, he admitted, “I just skipped dinner last night.”

She paused. “...really?”

“Really.”

There was a long silence, and then to his relief the tension bled out of her shoulders, and she shook her head in exasperation. “Geez, worrying me over nothing.” She turned around, rummaged around in the fridge, and then reemerged with a cup of fruit, which she placed dramatically in front of him. “Here.” 

He bristled. He hadn’t been trying to guilt her into giving him more. “You don’t have to—!”

“I know,” she interrupted, firmly but not unkindly. “If it bothers you that much, just think of it as…supplying you with the energy to continue defending the town.”

“I…”  he trailed off, but was unable to come up with a retort, especially with the fruit cup sitting so appealingly right in front of him. The apples looked wonderfully crisp, the melon was cut into perfect chunks, and the grapes glistened like little purple jewels. At last, he gave up. His self control was only so good. “Thanks.”

Kotoha beamed in response. Then, “Why’d you skip dinner, anyway?”

Sakura mentally winced. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to lie today. “Just…slipped my mind.”

(The truth was: he’d gotten home from school and he’d been so, so hungry, but he’d polished off the last of the only bag of chips in the apartment the day previous, and he was almost out of rice, which he wanted to save for when he was really desperate. He’d had a few pieces of delicious Cactus bread for lunch, so he didn’t really count this as desperate, which meant he couldn’t eat the rice.

But he was still so, so hungry.

He’d tried doing something else to distract himself—tried working on homework, tried studying the seemingly esoteric forms and figures that made up every assignment—but it had been almost impossible to focus. Eventually he’d given up, and done the only thing that hadn’t sounded completely and utterly exhausting, the one thing that could make time pass quickly: gone to sleep.

It was a technique he’d used frequently at previous foster families—the ones who either sometimes forgot to feed him, or who liked to punish him by taking away meals. Curled up alone on his futon, feeling as though his stomach had decided to turn around and start eating itself in the absence of any real food, had reminded him far too much of colder nights, crueler times.

Then Suo’s voice had said in his mind, so gentle and so warm, Don’t ever forget. Right now, this is where you are. And his shivering had subsided. Just a little.

He was handling it.)

For some reason this response made her frown at him again, and Sakura couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious about it. He knew he wasn’t a great liar, but he hadn’t thought he was bad at it.

But she only said, “Well…try not to do it again. You boys need all the energy you can get.”

He nodded, and thanked her, and didn’t eat anything else for the rest of the day.

Sakura was running after that damn cat again when his foot got caught on a crack in the sidewalk he hadn't noticed, and the sole of his shoe partially tore off. He let out a yelp, and it was only thanks to his quick reflexes that he was able to avoid falling flat on his face.

“Sakura!”

“Sakura-kun!”

“Shit,” Sakura hissed, but waved Anzai and Suo away as they ran up to him. “I'm fine. Don't lose her!”

They nodded and sprinted after Risa, the sound of their echoing footsteps fading with every second that passed. Sakura sighed, and used a nearby wall to slowly slide to the ground so he could assess the damage.

He'd known that something like this was coming. A gap had appeared between the sole and the…whatever part of the shoe it was a few weeks ago, and it had been steadily widening ever since. He'd just…hoped he'd have more time. Hoped he'd have a job by now. Hoped things would be more under his control.

This was what he got for being naive.

Sakura shook his head—indulging in a pity party wouldn’t help right now—and tilted his foot to one side to get a better look at his gaping shoe. He could duct tape it, he supposed. It'd look a bit weird and it might fuck up the traction, but at least it'd keep his feet dry and protected.

Sakura sighed and folded over his knees, burying his hands in his hair. It was just one fucking thing after another, wasn’t it.

“Sakura-kun,” Suo’s voice was way too close, and Sakura jerked at the sound of it. He hadn't even heard the other boy approach—he must've been more distracted than he'd realized.

When he looked up, Suo was already watching him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I'm fine,” Sakura insisted, pushing to his feet. “Just—tripped. What about the cat?”

There was a beat.

“You…tripped,” Suo said blankly.

“I—” His cheeks began to burn. “I wasn't paying attention.”

“You weren't paying attention,” Suo repeated, as though having trouble understanding the meaning of the words. “And you tripped.”

“Something wrong with that?” Sakura demanded, a little weirded out now.

There was another beat where Suo simply looked at him with that same blank expression on his face, even more inscrutable than usual. Sakura shuffled from one foot to the other as the seconds passed, wondering if he was supposed to say something.

Then, uncharacteristically, Suo abruptly said, “If you were really in trouble, you’d tell us, right?”

“Huh?” Sakura asked, bewildered both by Suo's words, and the strange, almost pleading note in his voice.

Suo briefly closed his eyes as though in pain. When he opened them again, his lips were curved in a vague, pleasant smile. “Nothing. Anzai-kun caught Risa-chan. He's returning her now.”

“Um…okay,” Sakura said uncertainly, and fell into step beside Suo as they began to walk (well, limp, in his case) back to their meeting spot.

After a few minutes of uninterrupted silence, Sakura glanced over at Suo. His friend was looking out over the town, still wearing that smile—but now that Sakura got a closer look at it, it seemed slightly sad, too. He seemed…

Sakura cleared his throat. “I…if I was really in trouble.” He paused and looked away, feeling the tips of his ears beginning to burn. He wanted desperately to say the words Suo most wanted to hear, but even after everything, he still couldn't. Not even to Suo, who he trusted as much as he could trust anyone. But… “I'd. I'd try. I…trust you guys.”

Suo blinked, visibly surprised, before the smile widened, turning into something warm and real, and just a tiny bit wry. “That's all I can ask for, I suppose.”

(The next day, when Sakura came to school with one shoe covered in a layer of shiny duct tape, Suo was one of the few who didn’t join in the light-hearted teasing about him ‘making a fashion statement’.  Instead, he simply stood back, and watched.)

If asked, Sakura couldn’t have explained how he’d gotten into this particular situation. Yes, he’d technically been aware the whole time. He knew how he’d gotten from classroom to hallway to street, walking stiffly alongside Momijikawa,  hands shoved deep in his pockets.

But he couldn’t have explained why, when he ducked and turned away from Umemiya and saw Momijikawa’s dark head of hair bobbing above the crowd after patrols, Sakura had immediately made a beeline for him. It was as though his feet had seized control of the rest of his body, carrying him…not unwillingly, per se, but not through any conscious choice, to where he was now.

Almost worse, neither of them had spoken since that awkward first moment when Momijikawa had minutely raised a confused eyebrow and greeted, “Haruka,” and Sakura had been flustered and blushed a little because he still wasn’t used to being called by his first name, and thus had only been able to manage a weak, “Y-Yo.”

Momijikawa had inclined his head down the street, and Sakura had fallen into step beside him without a second thought. And now they were walking in a seemingly random direction, and Sakura was having the growing suspicion that what his traitorous subconscious had really wanted was for Momijikawa to invite him over for dinner.

Dammit, Sakura thought despairingly, feeling more and more awkward with every silent beat that passed. He…he couldn’t just invite himself over for dinner, no matter how hungry he was. That would be rude; even he knew that. Not only that, he was starting to feel like a jerk for approaching Momijikawa with purely the selfish thought of wanting to be fed, like some stray dog begging for scraps on the street.

Momijikawa was his friend, not a cook at a restaurant. Even if he was really, really good at cooking.

He had to figure out a way to extricate himself without coming across as weird, or an asshole. Or both. Dammit. Dammit.

Sakura was just opening his mouth to give an excuse, when Momijikawa shoved a shopping basket into his hands and said, “Here, carry this.”

“...huh?” Sakura looked around, and realized that he’d been so deep in his head the past few minutes that he hadn’t even noticed that they were now standing in front of the local grocery store.

“I need to get some things,” Momijikawa said matter-of-factly. “You wanted to come over for dinner, right?”

Sakura automatically opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted when his stomach let out a loud, pointed growl. Flushing a little, he grumbled, “Shut up.”

Momijikawa glanced down at his stomach, smirked, and waved him inside. “Come on.”

Sakura felt incredibly awkward following Momijikawa as he picked through the various produce and meats, selecting and discarding according to some obscure criteria Sakura couldn’t even begin to guess at. In the past in stores like these, the employees had always eyed him like they thought he was going to try to steal something. However, either because they were in Makochi or because he was accompanying someone familiar, no one was giving him a second glance.

It was…really weird, to be honest. Really, really nice, but weird all the same.

“What are we having?” Sakura asked, just to fill the silence. Then a thought occurred to him, and he perked up. “Is it omurice?”

Momijikawa gave him an amused grin as he placed a big head of cabbage into the basket. “Not tonight.”

“Oh.” Sakura deflated a little. “Then what is it?”

Momijikawa finally stepped away from the produce, and began heading in the direction of the refrigerated meats. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Why is it a surprise?” Sakura demanded. “...you’re not going to make something weird, are you?”

Momijikawa actually laughed out loud at that, and the sight of it startled Sakura a little, the same way it had the first time. Momijikawa had such a serious face, it seemed like he would be less prone to laughing.

Then the laugh subsided, and Momijikawa placed a package of thinly sliced beef into the basket. “You don’t have to come over if you’re that worried about it.”

And Sakura knew Momijikawa had been joking, but the thin slice of panic that stabbed into Sakura at the thought of the warm meal being snatched away from him, when he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday and a melon bread for lunch today, made him blurt, “No, I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Then he forced himself to shut his fucking mouth, because Momijikawa had turned to give him an alarmed look, and if he kept talking he’d say something stupid like, please don’t send me away.

There was an awkward beat.

“I…you…” Momijikawa trailed off uncertainly. Then, finding his footing, “I’d never actually do that.”

Sakura looked away, kicking himself for his weakness. “I—I know. You’re not that kind of guy.”

“Haruka.”

Sakura was never, ever going to get used to the way Momojikawa so casually said his first name. When was the last time someone had ever used it? His foster families had mostly referred to him as “Hey, you”, if they were feeling polite. Let alone his first name, Furin was probably the first time anyone had called him ‘Sakura’ with any sort of fondness, like he was someone worth calling out to.

He looked up. He couldn’t have helped it, even if he’d wanted to. The word was like a gentle hand tugging at his sleeve, quietly demanding his complete attention.

Momijikawa caught and held his gaze, expression deadly serious, like he wanted to make absolutely sure that Sakura believed what he was about to say. “I wouldn’t do that, because you’re my friend.”

“O-Oh,” Sakura replied stupidly. “Right.”

Momijikawa nodded, and then turned and walked away, toward one of the nearby aisles, as though that was all he’d really wanted. Sakura stared after him without moving, still a little shell-shocked by Momijikawa’s…everything, really.

When they’d first met, Momijikawa’s grief and anger had been wrapped tightly about him, overshadowing everything else. At that time, Sakura had gotten the impression of someone very diligent and serious and…intense, for lack of a better word. But then, that night they’d first eaten together and the following day at school, Sakura had glimpsed the other boy’s true character—serious, yes, but accompanied by a sense of humor.

Like the sun breaking through thick clouds, that side of him was shining through, brighter than ever. Not only that, but he was also so goddamn earnest. Whether he liked you or hated you, you wouldn’t have to wonder too much about it, because he made sure you knew.

Sakura shook his head, and hurried to catch up.

“Have you had sukiyaki before?” Momijikawa asked, the second Sakura was back within earshot.

Sakura shook his head. For whatever reason, his foster families had always ended up making it whenever he was in trouble, so he hadn’t been allowed to eat it. “No. Is it good?”

Momijikawa nodded. “It was my grandfather’s favorite. He always said it was best enjoyed with company.”

“Really?” Sakura tried to hide how pleased he was at this, but he didn’t think he was doing a very good job, because Momijikawa’s eyes were crinkling at the corners. That small, almost secretive smile made warmth bloom in Sakura’s chest, and he found himself wanting to reciprocate, somehow—to reach out, the same way Momijikawa seemed to do so easily.

Sakura struggled with this as Momijikawa picked up the last few items and led them to the checkout—but froze when he saw the cash register.

Momijikawa probably…expected him to split the cost, huh? Since he was the one making dinner, after all. It only made sense. Sakura had to be pretty selfish not to offer to help pay.

How much cash did he have in his wallet? A few coins and his one and only 1,000 yen bill, which he had been trying to stretch through the end of the week, when his allowance would (hopefully) finally arrive.

(He didn’t want to think about what would happen if it was even a few days late again.)

He squeezed the handles of the basket hard to try to keep his hand from shaking, and forced himself to reach into his pocket. It would be fine. He hadn’t eaten at Pothos today, so he’d go tomorrow morning. This weekend, he’d finally cook up the last of his rice.

It’d be fine. He was handling it.

“Here,” Momijikawa said, and took the basket from Sakura so he could set their items on the conveyor belt. Then he glanced up, and something on Sakura’s face made him frown and stop, the carton of eggs clutched in one hand. “Are…are you okay?”

Sakura didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

Momijikawa looked as though he wanted to press the point, but then he visibly remembered that they were technically in the  middle of a transaction, and he turned back to the cashier instead. Sweat broke out on Sakura’s palms as he watched the numbers on the screen climb higher and higher.

The cashier read off the final price in a too-bright voice, and the sound of it made Sakura want to howl like an animal. His chest was going all weird and constricted again—

“Cash, please,” Momijikawa said, and placed a few slightly crumpled 1,000 yen bills into the tray without even glancing in Sakura’s direction.

“Thank you!” the cashier replied, before meticulously counting out the change and handing it over. “Have a good day.”

—and just like that, he could breathe again.

As they left the store and headed back up the street, a mix of guilt and relief crashed over Sakura so strongly that he couldn’t bring himself to speak for several minutes. He should’ve said something. The thought of handing over his last 1,000 yen bill made him want to throw up. The fact that he didn’t also made him want to throw up.

“I could’ve helped pay for it,” he blurted at last.

“No way,” Momijikawa replied, so quickly and decisively that Sakura couldn’t help but blink in surprise. “You’re a guest. Guests aren’t allowed to pay for anything.”

Sakura could’ve pushed, could’ve argued until Momijikawa understood that he was fine, he was handling it, he didn’t need pity or help or whatever. Before this whole situation with the rent, he definitely would’ve. Except….god, but he was tired. Everything was exhausting these days. He couldn’t pay attention in class, his body felt sluggish and slow during patrols, and most evenings he went straight home and curled up on his futon and tried to sleep the hunger away.

He wasn’t made for giving up. But even so—even so—for once in his life he wanted to stop fighting and just…take the easy out.

“I’ll pay you back next time,” Sakura said firmly, a compromise he could live with. Hopefully he’d have a part-time job by then, and this would all be over.

“No way.”

Sakura sputtered. “I can’t just—I won’t be a freeloader!”

“Of course not,” Momijikawa said slowly, as though he were speaking to a child. “You’re a guest, and guests aren’t allowed to pay for anything.”

“Says who?”

“My apartment,” he said, too smug by far, “my rules.”

Sakura didn’t know how to argue with that, so he just drew himself up and began stomping down the street, muttering angrily, while Momijikawa followed after him, laughing under his breath. 

Deep down, Sakura felt so, so warm.

(Later, Momijikawa pushed a container of leftover sukiyaki into Sakura’s hands and said, “I won’t be able to eat all of this on my own. Here,” and Sakura had been so overwhelmingly grateful that he hadn’t been able to speak.

The next day, slowly eating the reheated sukiyaki alone in his apartment, he couldn’t help but reflect that Momijikawa’s grandfather had been right. It really had tasted much better with company.)

Sakura surfaced slowly, languorously, from sleep; he felt so, so heavy, like he was carrying some weight that was trying to drag him back down. However there were voices talking softly overhead, and the sound of them was like someone plucking at his sleeves, his hair, drawing him further upward.

“...really out of it, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Nirei. Suo.

“He’s…recently, have you noticed…?”

A beat. The rustle of fabric.

“Ah.” There was a note of despair in Nirei’s voice. “He hasn’t said anything to you?”

“Of course not,” Suo said, sounding just a little bitter.

Sakura let out a soft groan and deliberately shifted a little, causing the other two to fall silent. Once he was sure his expression wouldn’t give anything away, he slowly stretched out his arms and sat up, grimacing at the crick in his neck, the slight dizziness that always seemed to accompany him these days.

“Good morning, Sakura-kun,” Suo said, and Sakura had to stop himself from wincing at the look in his friend’s eye—Suo knew he’d overheard. It might’ve even been deliberate.

Sakura looked away, determined to ignore it. “It’s not morning.”

“Actually it is,” Suo replied airily. “You slept the whole day away. You looked so peaceful we just decided not to bother you.”

Sakura was pretty sure he was joking, but glanced at the clock just to be sure.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Nirei sighed, but his expression was a little strained, a little distracted, like his mind had put his mouth on autopilot while his focus was elsewhere.

Sakura hated this.

Luckily at that moment Tsugeura, who was incapable of speaking quietly if his life depended on it, suddenly said-shouted from behind him, “Hey, Kiryu, whatcha playing?”

Sakura took the opportunity to turn from his vice captains and look at Kiryu and Tsugeura, who were sitting a few desks back. Kiryu was playing something on his console (which was called a ‘Switch’, Sakura was pretty sure), while Tsugeura looked curiously over one shoulder.

Kiryu hummed distractedly, the way he always did when someone tried to talk to him while he was in the middle of one of his games. “The latest Pokemon game. I waited to buy it since some of the previous ones were so bad, but I read online that this one was actually worth it.”

“Worth it?” Takanashi snorted. “No way. Wasn’t it like, 9,000 yen?”

Sakura froze.

“Yeah,” Kiryu confirmed casually, as though that wasn’t almost the same amount Sakura’s rent had been raised by. As though that kind of money meant nothing to him, while Sakura had been starving and scrounging and fighting his way through the entire month, and—

Sakura stood up so fast his chair screeched and clattered over, and immediately all conversation ground to a halt. Every eye in the classroom must’ve been on him, but that thought was unimportant, secondary. Something was boiling up inside of him, some emotion so chaotic and uncontrollable he couldn’t even begin to give it a name, like he was a pot left to heat on the stove, forgotten and about to overflow. There was a distant ringing in his ears.

9,000 yen. There was still duct tape wrapped around Sakura’s shoe, and he hadn’t felt truly full in three weeks, and 9,000 yen would make a world of difference to him. And Kiryu had just blown it all on a fucking game.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

“...Sakura-chan?”

Kiryu’s voice, a little confused and a lot concerned, snapped him out of his trance, brought him back to himself with a painful thump.

Sakura was standing next to his seat, teeth bared like an animal in Kiryu’s direction. He had no idea what kind of expression he’d been making, but everyone was staring at him in a way that was horribly familiar—with varying levels of concern and alarm, like he was something to be frightened of.

And this time, he couldn’t even say that it was unwarranted. What was wrong with him? Kiryu, his dear, fiercely caring friend, didn’t know about his situation. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet Sakura had almost—

Why was it so hard to breathe in here?

Sakura wasn’t made for giving up, or running away. But he was tired, and under the weight of his classmates’ stares—the classmates he’d sworn to protect—something had cracked in his chest, exposing the soft core of him. It hurt. He just—he couldn’t.

“Bathroom,” he rasped, and bolted.

Sakura stood in front of the sink in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, firmly avoiding looking in the mirror. Not for the first time, he wished that water was capable of washing the white from his hair, the gold from his eye. The stain from his soul.

Maybe his father had had the right idea of it.

At last he stopped, head hanging over the basin, water dripping down his face and onto the cold porcelain. He sighed deeply, and forced himself to look up, to confront his own reflection.

There were bags under his eyes so deep and dark it looked as though someone had punched him twice in the face. He’d always been skinny, but the line of his jaw had sharpened to a razor-thin blade. His hair, his mouth, his shoulders, his everything seemed to sag, as though he were carrying some invisible weight.

He looked nothing like a grade captain. He just looked like a stupid, haggard kid who had no idea what he was doing.

You are handling it, he told himself firmly, trying desperately to convince himself it was true. All the jobs he’d applied to had rejected him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find something. He was eating an average of once a day, but that was better than none. Things would get better. He just had to keep going. You are handling it.

He couldn’t reach out to his foster family. He couldn’t risk the possibility of them forcing him to leave Makochi.

(Never mind that I’m doing a pretty good job ruining what I have here all on my own, he thought bitterly.)

Sakura took another deep breath, dried his face, and opened the bathroom door.

“Sakura-san!” Nirei shouted, causing Sakura to almost leap out of his own skin.

“Wh—Nirei?” Sakura sputtered. “Have you—have you been waiting out here the whole time?”

“Yes!” Nirei replied, completely unashamed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Sakura tensed and looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “...so you had to wait outside the bathroom for me?”

“I didn’t want to give you the opportunity to run away." Before Sakura could respond to that, Nirei drew himself up and said, “Sakura-san. What’s wrong?”

If Sakura’s shoulders got any tighter, they might snap. “Nothing’s—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Nirei interrupted, so sharply that Sakura actually jumped. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice? You’ve been so tired lately, and your hands shake, and we never see you eating lunch anymore, and just now you almost lost your temper for no reason. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re avoiding Umemiya-san.”

Sakura gaped. He’d known they were worried about him, of course he had, but he hadn’t realized how closely they were paying attention. “You—that’s—”

But Nirei wasn’t quite done. “Something’s clearly wrong, and we know how hard it is for you to talk about the things that’re bothering you so we decided to wait, but it’s only getting worse and I don’t want to wait anymore. This isn’t like you. Sakura-san, please. I am begging you to talk to me. Us. Someone.”

“I…” Sakura began, mind blank, feeling strangely disconnected from his own body. “I’m…I’m handling it.”

“Sakura-san,” Nirei said, and to Sakura’s horror tears welled up in his eyes.

And Sakura—

He’d told himself that if nothing else, he could protect his friends from the pain of his own reality. But with Nirei in front of him, tears just beginning to slip down his cheeks, expression crumpled with pain that Sakura had caused, he realized the true depth of his failure.

The thing that’d cracked in his chest shattered completely.

“I’m not handling it,” Sakura finally, finally admitted, and to his horror his vision blurred over. He blinked rapidly, but it only made wetness spill down his cheeks, and then he was crying silently, the way he’d taught himself to as a child, when he’d realized that tears wouldn’t solve anything, that exposing his vulnerability would only result in people hurting him more.

But Nirei didn’t make fun of him, or tell him to stop being such a baby. Instead he gasped, “Oh, Sakura-san,” and wrapped Sakura up in a hug and began to rock him back and forth, back and forth, rubbing his back. And that only made Sakura cry harder, because this was soothing some younger, more fragile part of himself, which had always yearned to be comforted like this.

“Don’t worry, Sakura-san,” Nirei murmured, voice determined and relieved in equal measure. “We’ll take it from here.”

“So what’s all this about, Sakura?” Umemiya said, gray eyes big and warm and sad.

After he’d finally stopped crying, Nirei had taken him by the hand and led him upstairs, toward the roof, which Sakura had been avoiding like the plague these past few weeks. Umemiya had taken one look at the two of them and set down his gardening equipment and gently ushered them over to his table, like he’d somehow known this was coming.

Maybe he had. Maybe they’d all known. We, Nirei had said repeatedly. 

Sakura really was an idiot.

Sakura looked away. His eyes were burning and his temples were pounding, but Nirei was pressed up against one side, still clutching Sakura’s hand like he was afraid that if he let go, Sakura would run away. Rather than wanting to leave however, Sakura couldn’t help but lean a little harder into the warmth, greedy for the comfort now that he’d finally gotten it. Now that he’d finally let himself have it.

Sakura wanted to speak. He wanted to say it. Hell, the reason he’d been avoiding Umemiya so painstakingly was because he’d known that if he’d seen that understanding face, those reliable shoulders, he’d have been unable to keep from spilling everything. But…

Seeming to read some of this in Sakura’s expression, Umemiya sighed softly. “I know it’s hard for you to ask for help. But do you mind if I say something?”

Wordlessly, Sakura nodded.

Umemiya leaned forward, pinning Sakura in place with all the weight of his gentle, understanding gaze. “Sakura. You’re really scaring your friends.”

Sakura was made for fighting. Sakura was not made for giving up.

Sakura swallowed, cleared his throat, swallowed again. Then he whispered, “My landlord raised the rent.”

There was a sharp indrawn breath from beside him, and the hands wrapped around his tightened minutely. Umemiya briefly closed his eyes before opening them again, a smile on his face, a resolve in his brow. He reached out and gently ruffled Sakura’s hair, and said, “That must’ve been hard, huh? But you don’t have to worry about it anymore. We’ll take care of it.”

Sakura sagged in relief, and Nirei immediately let go of his hand so he could wrap an arm around Sakura’s shoulders. Sakura shut his eyes and turned toward his friend. He was so, so tired.

Half an hour later the door to the roof slammed open, startling Sakura out of the doze he’d briefly fallen into. Ignoring Nirei’s soft tsk of annoyance, he straightened and looked over, trying to look alert and not like he’d just had a completely embarrassing breakdown. Suo was walking toward them, and there was a lightness to his features that Sakura hadn’t seen in a while, and right behind him was Kiryu, and—

Sakura blinked in surprise at the sight of Momijikawa, jaw set with grim determination, like he was charging into a fight for the soul of the town.

Before anyone else could speak however, Kiryu jogged ahead of Suo, and Nirei retreated just in time for Kiryu to throw his arms around Sakura and pull him into a tight hug.

“You big dummy,” Kiryu said. “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve helped.”

Sakura sagged into the hug. “...’m sorry.”

Kiryu’s arms tightened, and then he retreated a little and tugged on a piece of Sakura’s hair, gently chiding. “You’re not allowed to apologize to me when you have that expression on your face.”

“...’kay.”

When Kiryu eventually let go, Sakura looked up to find Suo standing over him.

“Sakura-kun,” Suo said, and his voice wavered somewhere between stern and relieved. “You said you’d try.”

Sakura winced. “I…I know. I’m—”

“Do not apologize,” Suo interrupted harshly, to Sakura’s immense shock. Then Suo pressed his lips together and shook his head and said, in a more normal tone of voice, “Just…try harder. For our sake.”

This, Sakura could promise. It would be hard, but he wasn’t made for giving up. “I will. I swear, I will." Then, unable to help himself, he added, "I just...didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Suo just sighed at him, completely unsurprised. Nirei’s hand found his again, and squeezed.

“Haruka,” Momijikawa abruptly said, clearly unable to remain silent for a second longer now that it seemed as though Kiryu and Suo had finished speaking. “Move in with me.”

Sakura froze, staring at Momijikawa with wide eyes. “...what?”

“It’s just me, now. I’ve got the room,” Momijikawa said matter-of-factly, earnestly, like he actually, truly wanted Sakura there. “I know you said you weren’t a freeloader, so you could help with utilities if you really wanted to. It’d make it easier on me, too.”

Sakura…didn’t know what to say. He’d spent his entire life being kicked from one home to another, his mere existence a burden to be tolerated. No one had ever wanted him to live with them; the idea was so outlandish that he couldn’t immediately wrap his head around it.

Apparently Momijikawa misread his silence as reluctance, because he took another step forward and said, “Haruka. You’d never have to go hungry, ever again.”

Sakura sucked in a shaky breath, trying to suppress the burn threatening behind his eyes. He’d already cried once today, dammit. Even so, his voice sounded far too fragile to his own ears as he said, “Are you…are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” Momijikawa responded simply.

The others were all watching them closely, anticipation in their eyes, waiting with baited breath for Sakura’s response. You’re really scaring your friends, Umemiya had said, and he was right. Even if Sakura hadn’t wanted this with a desire that bordered on desperation, he’d told Suo that he would try.

He owed it to his friends to try.

“Yes,” Sakura said at last, and it didn’t feel like giving up, the way he’d thought it would. It felt like all the tension was leaving him, like he could finally relax and breathe easily for the first time since he’d received that awful letter. “I’ll move in with you.”

Everyone else relaxed in tandem, and Momijikawa smiled, and Sakura felt so, so warm.

“Good,” Momijikawa said. “Come on, then. Let’s go home.”

(Later that night, Momijikawa pulled a blanket over Sakura’s shoulders and sat him down at the dinner table—their dinner table now, and wasn’t that a strange thought—and told him that he wasn’t allowed to move, on pain of death. Emotionally and physically exhausted, Sakura hadn’t been able to bring himself to argue, just rested his head in his hands and his elbows on the table and watched as Momijikawa bustled around the kitchen.

Some time later, Sakura was jolted out of his doze by the clink of a plate being set down in front of him. He looked down, and his jaw went slack.

Momijikawa scratched his cheek, looking embarrassed. “I, uh…I didn’t want to make this for you until I had perfected it, but…I thought you might need it, after today.”

Slowly Sakura picked up his spoon and scooped up a portion of the meticulously crafted omurice steaming before him. It smelled incredible, and for half a second he wondered if this was real, if he was dreaming. If he was about to wake up in his old apartment, curled up on his futon, stomach tunneling a hole through his insides.

But…no. While Sakura and Umemiya had been talking, Hiragi and Tsugeura had run out to purchase a few rice balls from the nearest convenience store for him to snack on. After school, his grim-faced classmates had followed him to his apartment, swiftly packed up all his stuff, and transported it to Momijikawa’s place without letting him lift a finger. Sakura had worried, very briefly, that his landlord might try to come after him for breaking the lease, but Suo had just given him that terrifying smile and told him not to worry about it, so.

He didn’t think his mind had the capacity to dream up such a strange, wonderful series of events.

Under Momijikawa’s watchful eye, Sakura lifted the spoon to his mouth and took a bite.

Of course, it was delicious.)