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1. His Stupid Hair
Fuyuhiko watches Hajime as he examines himself in the mirror, hair freshly cut. They’re in the bathroom of Mirai Hotel’s—recently renovated, thanks to Hajime and Kazuichi’s combined efforts—Old Building. He had spent the last hour giving Hajime a haircut, although giving was perhaps too strong a word. Rather, he’d been growing more and more frustrated attempting to cut the other boy’s hair evenly, until Hajime, (clearly suppressing a laugh, the bastard), put it out of his misery and finished the job himself.
He meets Hajime’s heterochromatic gaze in the mirror, and with a sudden burst of cheekiness that could only be attributed to Ibuki’s influence, comes up with an idea.
”Have you ever tried slicking down that spiky-ass hair of yours?” he asks, only half-joking.
Hajime hums thoughtfully, before giving Fuyuhiko a small smile. “I can’t say I have, but…you can try.”
Fuyuhiko bristles. “You think I can’t, jackass? Don’t you dare move.” There’s probably hair gel in the Rocketpunch Market, where they store the supplies Naegi gives them every month. He’s never been the kind of man to back down from a challenge, even one issued jokingly.
He walks with purpose towards his destination. It’s hot out, in the middle of the summer, and all of his classmates are either inside or at the pool to escape the sun’s unrelenting heat. When he arrives at his destination, he finds his way through the sparsely furnished store to the Personal Care section and grabs a bottle of hair gel.
He isn’t sure who took the time to organize their supplies—Hajime? Mahiru?—but it’s a hell of a lot more convenient than what they had a year ago, when they put everything in one big pile in the middle of the store.
But he digresses. He has a job to do.
When he gets back to the Old Building, Hajime meets him out front, bag of chips in hand. As he sees Fuyuhiko approach, he crumples the bag up, disappears inside, then returns, now empty-handed.
”I told you not to move,” Fuyuhiko barks, raising the bottle of hair gel to show Hajime.
The other boy shrugs. “I was hungry.”
Fuyuhiko scoffs and grabs him by the tie, careful to avoid his chip-greased hands. He drags him inside and to the bathroom, Hajime stumbling along awkwardly due to the difference in height.
After Hajime washes his hands and dunks his hair in the sink, Fuyuhiko sits him back down in the chair. “Alright, asshole. Your hair’s gonna look like that bastard Togami’s once I’m done with you.”
He squeezes a small, coin-sized amount of gel into his hands and rubs them together to spread it evenly. He rakes his hands through Hajime’s damp hair, applying more pressure when it doesn’t fucking stay down.
He squirts more gel into his hands and tries once again to smooth the other boy’s hair back. When that doesn’t work, Fuyuhiko squeezes a large amount of it directly onto Hajime’s head, growling in frustration. That seems to work, the sheer quantity of the gel weighing his hair down.
It works—until it doesn’t, and Hajime’s hair pops right back up.
Fuyuhiko stares at him incredulously, the utter fucking ridiculousness of the situation causing him to close his eyes and bark out a laugh. (He does not giggle. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu does not. Fucking. Giggle).
When he opens his eyes, he meets Hajime’s gaze in the mirror. He’s looking at him dumbly, mouth slightly open and cheeks dusted with a slight hint of pink.
Fuyuhiko feels his own face start to heat up, and he looks away sharply, grabbing at his collar with one hand. ”The fuck are you looking at, dumbass?”
2. His Caring Attitude
He can already tell, it’s going to be one of those nights. Nights where he wakes up screaming, face stained with tears and a name on his lips—Peko, or Natsumi, or Chiaki, or one of the countless men he’s lost as the Ultimate Yakuza.
Nights where he can feel the phantom pain of an eye, throbbing in his now-empty socket, screaming at him, twisting him, tinging his vision with red, and black, and making everything feel so, so very hopeless—
Pushing these thoughts to the back of his head, Fuyuhiko turns onto his stomach, buries his face into his pillow, and drifts off into an uneasy sleep.
…
In his dreams, there’s fire. Hope’s Peak Academy is in flames, but the people around him are utterly silent. He can hear her voice whispering in his ear, telling him to stop fighting, to give into despair, to see what she sees.
Out of the bright orange flames in front of him, a hand reaches out. Chiaki. He stretches his arm out to grab her, but as their fingers brush, spikes shoot out of nowhere, skewering her. As she collapses to the ground, her face changes. Pink hair becomes blond, eyes turn green, until he’s staring at the bleeding, broken body of his sister.
Fuyuhiko chokes back a panicked sob and rushes to Natsumi’s side. He shrugs off his jacket. I need to stop the bleeding. But there’s so much blood, and it’s everywhere, and she needs a hospital—
Natsumi looks up at his, smirking cruelly. “Don’t you see, brother,” she says, “you’re too weak to save me. You can’t even save yourself.”
He stumbles back as the scene around him changes. There are people all around him, bloodied, dying. There’s Sato, Mahiru, and Natsumi, all bleeding profusely from the head. Peko, covered in stab wounds, Chiaki, holding her side, desperately reaching out. His parents, bleeding from the slits in their throats that he had inflicted.
The dead approach him, wailing, begging him to join them. They ask him how he could be so weak, why he’d given in to despair. He can hear her, laughing, reveling in the chaos, and there’s nothing he can do except join her, falling into the despair, and laughing, laughing, laughing—
He wakes up abruptly, a wheezing laugh escaping him. His eye stings. He raises his hand to his cheek and feels the wet tears rolling down his face. Fuck.
I won't be able to get back to sleep now. He sighs in resignation, gets out of bed, and goes to find Hajime.
Hajime’s the most likely candidate to be awake at this time of night, Fuyuhiko rationalizes to himself. The experiments Hope’s Peak Academy conducted on him, aside from making him an artificial genius, also made him some fucking superhuman. He could survive on less sleep than a normal person, as well as requiring less food and water.
…Also, there’s something about him that always makes Fuyuhiko feel safer. Not that he’d ever tell the bastard that to his face.
The nighttime air is crisp against Fuyuhiko’s face, grounding him in the moment. He reaches Hajime’s cabin, takes a deep breath, and raises a hand to knock.
The door opens before he can do so. Hajime is standing in the doorway, giving him a concerned look. “Everything alright, Fuyuhiko?”
Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes, pushing past Hajime and into his cabin. “What are you, a fucking bat? Did you hear me coming?”
Hajime laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Fuyuhiko tries not to notice the way it makes the other boy’s muscles bulge a bit.
”Perks of being a glorified science project.”
”I fucking bet.”
Hajime sits down on his bed, motioning for Fuyuhiko to join him. The covers are messed up. Fuyuhiko feels a pang of guilt. “Shit, did I interrupt your sleep?”
”Of course not,” Hajime assures him. “Even if you had, I always have time for you.”
Fuyuhiko’s face heats up. He punches the other boy on the arm, perhaps a bit harder than needed. Hajime rubs the spot he punched, looking vaguely amused. The amusement doesn’t offset the concern in his gaze, however.
”What do you need right now? Would you like to talk about it?”
Fuyuhiko wonders what he looks like right now. Pathetic, small, weak, face wet with tears. Unfitting for the Ultimate Yakuza. But he doesn’t deserve that title anymore—it did along with his parents, Natsumi, the remainders of his men. Right now, he’s too tired to care about appearances. Besides, something about Hajime always makes him lower his walls.
”…Maybe later. I just want to sleep,” he says softly.
Hajime lies down on the bed, opening his arms. Fuyuhiko follows suit. He must be as red as a tomato, but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed as Hajime wraps his arms around him, resting his chin on his head.
Enveloped in Hajime’s warmth, Fuyuhiko falls into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
3. His Grounding Presence
Mealtimes are always chaotic. When sixteen people with such extravagant and unique personalities come together, it’s unavoidable.
Although right now, only fifteen of them are here. Ibuki isn’t here, which is odd considering the girl is such an early riser. He ignores that thought—she could be sleeping in.
Fuyuhiko, on the other hand, is not a morning person. Sleepily, he pushes the food on his plate around with his chopsticks and tunes into Nekomaru and Hiyoko’s heated debate over the best kind of snack food.
”Sweets are obviously better,” the yellow-haired girl is arguing. She waves her hands to emphasize her point. “The sugar replenishes your energy, or whatever.”
Nekomaru slams his hands down on the table. The force of it rattles surrounding plates, and causes the water in the pitcher in the middle of the table to spill over the top. Across from Fuyuhiko, Mikan squeaks in alarm and uses her napkin to mop up the water.
”Absolutely not!” Nekomaru practically bellows. “Sugary snacks are empty calories! You need something more nutrient-dense! Like nuts!”
”Ew.” Hiyoko wrinkles her nose. “Gummies are a lot tastier. Besides, how can something that gives you energy be bad for you?”
At that, Nekomaru looks affronted. “It’s just sugar! Candy doesn’t give you any nutrients or fiber! If you eat badly, you’ll shit badly!” With the last two words, Nekomaru’ voice gets even louder.
”Ugh, gross!” Hiyoko covers her ears. “Don’t talk about stuff like that while we’re eating, stupid!”
Mikan lets out what sounds suspiciously close to a giggle. Accusingly, Hiyoko turns to her, pointing her chopsticks at the other girl’s face like a weapon. “What are you laughing at, pig barf?”
Fuyuhiko opens his mouth to tell Hiyoko off—they’re supposed to be working on themselves, for fuck’s sake. At the same time, Mikan lets out what he can only assume is the start of a long string of apologies.
However, before either of them manages to speak, they’re interrupted by a sudden scream.
Fuyuhiko is on his feet in an instant, unconsciously reaching for a gun that isn’t there. “The fuck was that? That sounded like Ibuki!”
He races down the stairs to the hotel lobby and out to the pool.
There, he sees Ibuki, staring fearfully into the pool water.
”She’s here,” Ibuki chokes out. It doesn’t take a goddamn detective to figure out who she refers to. A ripple of murmurs spread throughout the crowd of his classmates.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fuyuhiko sees Hajime and the Imposter exchange a barely-perceptible glance. At Hajime’s nod, the Imposter starts quietly coaxing the others away from the terrified musician.
Fuyuhiko leaves along with the rest of his classmates, returning to his abandoned breakfast. He picks up his plate and moves to a table closer to the windows overlooking the pool area.
He senses Mikan standing anxiously over his shoulder. She’s probably worried sick—none of them has had such a public outburst in a few months, and she always was closest to Ibuki, even in the simulation. Besides, any situation where she can’t make herself useful just adds on to her nerves.
He can’t make out any of Hajime and Ibuki’s conversation. Obviously, he can’t—there’s a wall and a full floor separating them—but he does consider himself decent when it comes to reading body language.
Although, you don’t need to be a fucking genius to tell what’s going on outside. Ibuki, shaking so violently that Fuyuhiko can see it from the restaurant window, leans closer to Hajime. The brown-haired boy puts an arm around her, murmuring something. Ibuki nods in response, and Hajime starts taking slow, deep breaths. Ibuki follows along, mirroring him.
Inhale, one, two, three, four, hold, one, two, three, four, exhale… Fuyuhiko recognizes it as one of the breathing exercises Ms. Yukizome taught his class back when she first started out.
Ibuki begins to visibly calm down. Fuyuhiko, losing interest, decides that he’s been nosy enough for one day. He gives Mikan a curt nod, one that she, flustered, tries to return, and wanders off.
He drops his empty plate off in the kitchen, where Teruteru has begun to wash the dishes (part of the process includes clean-up as well as the cooking!). A weird philosophy, in Fuyuhiko’s opinion, but if Teruteru wants to spend his time cleaning up other people’s messes, who is he to object?
Having had enough excitement for one morning, Fuyuhiko decides to head to the beach. Today’s one of the rare, cloudy days that so seldomly grace Jabberwock Island. It’s even starting to drizzle a bit. Not exactly beach weather, so his classmates aren’t likely to be hanging around. When he arrives, he’s pleased to see that his assumption was correct. He sits with his back to a palm tree and gazes out over the dreary-looking ocean, allowing himself to space out.
He’s lost track of the time he’s been sitting there, when he hears a voice behind him.
”Mind if I join you?”
Hajime.
Instead of responding verbally, Fuyuhiko scorches to the side, motioning to the sand next to him. Hajime sits down, close enough that their arms are pressed together. Fuyuhiko ignores the fluttering in his stomach at the contact.
”How’s Ibuki?”
”Better now. Hallucinations. She told me she hasn’t been sleeping very well lately.”
”You handled that well.”
Hajime gives him a wry smile. “Ultimate Therapist, Ultimate Psychologist, Ultimate Nurse, and more. The works.”
Fuyuhiko turns to face him, frowning. “Don’t discredit your own abilities, you bastard. I meant what I said in the simulation, about you being the Ultimate Counselor. Well, before it was actually true. There’s something about you that makes people lower their walls. Even fuckin’ Natsumi trusted you—that’s a bigger achievement than winning someone like me over.”
Hajime looks at him in surprise. “…I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” Fuyuhiko responds brusquely. He finds himself leaning ever so slightly more into Hajime’s side, but despite himself, can’t find it in him to move away. Hajime slowly rests his head on Fuyuhiko’s, as if trying not to scare away a feral cat.
”It’s lunchtime soon, you know.”
”If you move, I’ll gut you like a fish.”
4. His Build
His respite from the heat was all too brief. The sun was back in full force the following day, prompting Kazuichi to declare a beach day, much to Fuyuhiko’s chagrin.
However, despite all his griping and complaining, he would rather spend a few hours hot and covered in sand than alone with his thoughts. So, begrudgingly, he allows Kazuichi to drag him along.
Sitting in the shade of a palm tree, he watches as Akane and Nekomaru set up a net for beach volleyball. Kazuichi, Mahiru, and Ibuki hurry over to join, with the latter dragging Peko along by the hand. Peko has a small smile on her face, which Fuyuhiko mirrors at the sight of. End of the world as they knew it aside, Fuyuhiko’s glad that Peko was given an opportunity to discover herself outside of him and the rest of the Kuzuryuu family.
Hiyoko makes herself comfortable on the sidelines, presumably to cheer on whichever team Mahiru finds herself a part of.
Over near the water, Gundham and Nagito appear to be building some sort of elaborate sand castle, while Sonia carries over a metal bucket. When she dumps the contents out on the ground, he sees that she was transporting wet sand over to the castle. Pretty childish, if you ask him—but then again, he doubts very many of his classmates had the kind of childhood where they did things like building sand castles and joking around on the beach. He and Peko certainly didn’t.
As he watches them, a large wave crashes over their castle, washing away their progress. Nagito stares down at the ruins, smiling sardonically. Fuyuhiko can imagine what he’s saying. “Just my luck…,” or maybe, “this will be a stepping stone for an even greater hope!”
Gundham and Sonia just share an amused glance, before Sonia picks up her bucket and begins collecting wet sand anew.
Hajime, Mikan, and the Imposter are in the water, looking down and pointing. Looking for rocks, maybe, or trying to spot animals. Teruteru wades into the water and approaches them, saying something to Mikan that causes Hajime to splash him with water, and her to cover her face in embarrassment.
Ryota is sitting near Fuyuhiko on a pink and orange striped beach towel. He’s hunched over his drawing tablet, sketching furiously. He’s fully clothed, wearing a t-shirt and shorts, with his bare skin covered in barely-rubbed in sunscreen. Likely, Fuyuhiko assumes, forced upon him by the Imposter, ever so concerned about the boy’s apparent lack of care (or awareness) regarding his own health.
He keeps finding his eyes wandering over to Hajime. He’s not staring on purpose, but the other boy looks annoyingly handsome in the sunlight. His biceps are so…noticeable, Fuyuhiko can’t help but ogle every time he raises his arms. And since when does Hajime have abs?
Whatever. Just because Hajime is objectively attractive, doesn’t necessarily mean Fuyuhiko has any sort of feelings for him…
…Who is he kidding.
So occupied with—ahem—watching his classmates, Fuyuhiko fails to notice the volleyball hurtling straight for him in time, the shouts of his classmates startling him out of his stupor just in time to raise his arms and brace for impact.
Thankfully, the impact never comes. When Fuyuhiko lowers his arms, he sees Peko in front of him, having deflected the volleyball. He gives her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Peko. That would’a taken my fuckin’ head off.”
Peko returns his smile hesitantly. “Of course, Young Ma—Fuyuhiko.”
Mahiru hurries over, picking up the volleyball. “Are you okay, Fuyuhiko?”
He nods. She and Peko rush back over to the rest of the players. Well, Mahiru rushes. Peko follows along, awkwardly stumbling over the sand.
Determining himself to be safe from wayward volleyballs from the time being, Fuyuhiko’s eyes shift back towards where Hajime and the others were swimming, only to find him absent from the group. He does a scan of the beach, but Hajime is nowhere to be seen. That is, until his voice comes up from right behind him, causing Fuyuhiko to practically jump out of his skin.
”You should get in the water.”
”Shit, Hajime! When did you get there!” Fuyuhiko yelps. The other boy gives him a self-satisfied smirk.
”You seemed pretty engrossed in watching everyone. I wanted to see if I could surprise you,” Hajime says. “Seriously, you should swim. The water’s great, and you’re already in a swimsuit anyways.”
Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to splash around like a—Hajime, what are you doing?”
Before he can finish his sentence, he’s suddenly hoisted up into the air, Hajime picking him up into a bridal carry. His face goes crimson at the sudden closeness. Why is he so…strong?
”We’re going to take a dip in the water together,” Hajime tells him with a playful grin. He carries him over to the water with Fuyuhiko struggling half-heartedly in his arms.
He tosses him in like a ragdoll. The sudden cold is a shock to Fuyuhiko’s senses, and it takes him a moment before he can reorient himself, treading water and sputtering. Hajime launches himself in next, dousing Fuyuhiko with a second wave of seawater.
He can hear Kazuichi on the beach, laughing loudly at his indignation. He focuses a glare in Hajime’s direction. “You better sleep with one eye open, you bastard.”
The other boy just splashes him again, laughing loudly when Fuyuhiko retaliates with his own wave of water.
5. His Vulnerable Side
“What the fuck is that supposed to be?” Fuyuhiko throws his hands up in frustration, shooting Kazuichi an icy glare.
“It’s not my fault, the word I got was really hard,” Kazuichi whines.
“Flailing your arms around like a goddamn octopus isn’t exactly helping,” he snarls back, punctuating his point with an aggressive gulp of water from the cup on the coffee table in front of him.
At these words, Kazuichi stops in tracks, staring at Fuyuhiko excitedly.
“Are you kidding me? An octopus?” Fuyuhiko says, dumbfounded. “How the hell was I supposed to figure that out from your insane waving?”
Sitting on the couch across from him, separated by the coffee table, Mahiru lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s just charades. You boys are taking this way too seriously.”
”Your time’s up,” Hajime interjects, holding up the stopwatch they’d been using to keep track of the two-minute rounds.
“I guessed it in time, so we get the point,” Fuyuhiko says, leaning forward to scratch another tally mark on the piece of paper they’d been using to keep score. This round brings him and Kazuichi up to six points, putting them in first.
Kazuichi flashes him a toothy smile, pumping his fist in the air. He takes his seat next to Kazuichi, and looks expectantly at Sonia and Gundham, who’d been silent up until now.
…For good reason, as Fuyuhiko can now see. Both of them are asleep, with Sonia’s head resting against Gundham’s chest. Gundham’s coat is draped over the two of them like a blanket. It’s almost…cute.
”It’s getting pretty late anyways,” Hajime says quietly. “We should all head to bed soon.”
”You’re just saying that because you and Mahiru are losing,” Fuyuhiko teases, trying to keep his voice down.
Kazuichi yawns, then stands up and stretches. Tossing a quick goodbye over his shoulder, he exits the hotel lobby, Mahiru following behind soon after.
Fuyuhiko picks up his glass and trudges up the stairs to the restaurant. He heads into the kitchen and chugs the rest of his water, before placing the glass into the dishwasher, turning it on.
He turns around, nearly running into Hajime, who, at some point, had snuck up behind him.
”Stop doing that, jackass,” Fuyuhiko complains, starting to make his way back to the lobby.
”I can’t help it,” Hajime says, sounding almost embarrassed. He glances over at the couch where Sonia and Gundham are still curled up, fast asleep. “Should we wake them up?”
”Nah, they look comfortable,” Fuyuhiko decides, opening the door for Hajime. The other boy steps through, flashing him a smile. The two of them make their way back to the cottages, stopping awkwardly once they reach Hajime’s door.
”Well…see you tomorrow,” Hajime says, opening his door and stepping inside. Fuyuhiko nods in response, turning around and walking diagonally until he reaches his own cottage.
Once inside, the exhaustion hits him all at once. It’s a fight just to keep his eyes open, never mind brushing his teeth and putting on his nightwear. He does so anyway, then collapses on his bed. He’s asleep almost immediately, too quickly to remember to turn off the lights.
…
Tap, tap. Creaaaak.
Fuyuhiko wakes up instantly—he’s a light sleeper, thanks to years of being a target for assassination attempts. Before he can fully process what’s happening, his body moves on instinct, grabbing his pillow and throwing at his intruder. Whoever it is makes a surprised noise, one that turns to a grunt when Fuyuhiko uses their distraction as an opportunity to punch them in the gut. It’s only when he has the other person in a chokehold that he realizes who it is.
”Hajime? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” the other boy wheezes. “Can you let go now? Please?”
Fuyuhiko releases him, his anger quickly turning to concern. “Are you alright? Why the hell didn’t you dodge?”
”I trust you not to hurt me,” Hajime says, and it’s so stupidly sweet that Fuyuhiko has to restrain himself from punching him again.
”Technically I did,” he points out. He picks his pillow up, flipping it around and wiping off the side that made contact with the floor. “So, what made you sneak into my room at some ungodly hour of the night?”
”Three in the morning,” Hajime says nonchalantly. “And I thought you were awake. Your lights were on.”
”I guess I forgot to turn them off before falling asleep,” Fuyuhiko says, before jabbing an accusatory finger at Hajime’s chest. “Now spill. Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re deflecting.”
Hajime is silent for a beat. He looks down at the floor, fidgeting slightly. Fuyuhiko sits down on the edge of his bed, looking at him expectantly.
”It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me.”
”No! No, I do, I just…can’t figure out how to say it.”
At that, Fuyuhiko hums thoughtfully, slipping back into his bed and opening the covers slightly. “You can sleep here, if you want, so you can take your time thinking.”
Hajime has the audacity to look surprised, as if Fuyuhiko hasn’t shared a bed with him before. As if he hasn’t spilled his entire fucking heart out to him, over the course of many late nights and even more nightmares. Still, Hajime acquiesces, flicking the lights off and joining Fuyuhiko under the covers without protest.
Fuyuhiko can feel himself starting to fall back asleep—it’s still three in the goddamned morning, for fuck’s sake—until Hajime’s voice drags him out of his drowsy state.
”I woke up during an operation once, once. When they were still experimenting. It was one of the earlier surgeries, and they hadn’t taken into account the increasing amount of painkillers and anesthesia they’d need after my physical enhancements.”
Fuyuhiko stays quiet, not wanting to discourage him from opening up. It takes all of his self-control to prevent the rage he feels at Hajime’s words from showing, although he’s sure the other boy can feel how tense he becomes.
”I begged,” Hajime continues. “I was so scared, so alone. I wanted out. The scientists operating on me didn’t even give me a response. They just knocked me out again. I think, when I woke up, I’d had my emotions muted. After that, they erased my memories, and then started giving me talents.”
Fuyuhiko turns on his side so he’s facing Hajime. He opens his mouth, but he’s at a loss for words—he’s never been a very good feelings guy, whether it’s his own or someone else’s. Instead, he settles for grabbing Hajime’s hand, giving it what he hopes comes across as a reassuring squeeze.
Hajime, seemingly sensing Fuyuhiko’s dilemma, laughs softly. “You don’t need to say anything. It’s nice just getting that off my chest. I don’t really know why I was fixating on that particular memory. It seems so insignificant compared to everything else we’ve gone through.”
Fuyuhiko frowns. “It’s not a fucking competition. That’s like saying a stab wound doesn’t matter because you also got shot in the shoulder.”
Hajime turns his head to shoot him a horrified look. “Please don’t tell me you’re speaking from experience.”
Fuyuhiko shrugs (as well as he can, lying down on his side). “It was a while ago.”
”That’s even worse!” Hajime says, as if he hasn’t heard much more grisly stories about Fuyuhiko’s life.
Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes. “Anyways, I’m glad you’re willing to…talk to me about this shit. Or whatever.” The words almost get stuck in his throat—sue him, he’s probably never said that specific combination of words in his life. Most people don’t look at the Kuzuryuu Clan heir and think, yes, this is exactly the kind of person I want to open up to. Hajime isn’t most people, though.
“Friendship is a two-way street,” Hajime says casually. “If you’re willing to let me in, I should do the same for you.”
…Fuyuhiko doesn’t know if “friendship” is the right term for what he wants from Hajime.
+1. His Straightforwardness
Hajime really wants to bring up the Brotherhood Cup.
If he’s being honest with himself, he’s been wanting to bring it up for a while now. After the whole situation with the Future Foundation was dealt with, Hajime’s found himself with a lot of time to think. Every time he spends time with Fuyuhiko, it’s always at the back of his mind.
Case in point. Right now, he’s watching him playing one of the arcade games in the hotel lobby. The shorter boy is getting worked up (almost adorably so, although he’d kill Hajime if he ever voiced that thought aloud). It’s taking all his willpower to stop himself from just asking, but, he reasons to himself, he needs to find a more…opportune moment. He has to be subtle with this kind of thing, or Fuyuhiko will get embarrassed about it.
”Fuck!” The boy in question slams his hands down on the arcade machine. On the screen, Hajime can see a little pixelated character blinking in and out of view with the words ‘GAME OVER’ flashing aggressively overhead.
Hajime barely stifles a snicker at his over-the-top reaction, causing Fuyuhiko to shoot him a glare.
”You try, jackass,” he grumbles, stepping aside and waving his hands in a have at it gesture.
Hajime approaches the arcade machine, pressing the little red button to start a new round. The actual machines outside of the simulation had initially required real money to play, but Kazuichi quickly put a stop to that.
The game is a simple one. It just involves moving a joystick around to jump over or slide under progressively harder obstacles. The player has three lives, but Hajime knows he won’t need any extras. The Ultimate Gamer is among his many talents, after all.
He feels a twinge of sadness at the thought, but pushes it back. He’s spent the last few years mourning Nanami; she would want him to move on, to be able to think of her without breaking down.
Soon enough, he finishes the game. He turns to face Fuyuhiko, smirking at the other boy’s dumbfounded look.
”Should’ve fuckin’ known,” he mutters. “Of course you can beat a damn video game.”
In response, Hajime taps the scar circling his forehead. At that, Fuyuhiko winces slightly, although he tries to cover it up with a half-hearted glare. Someone less well-versed in body language would have missed it—Hajime before the Kamukura Project would’ve missed it. Now, however, he has a multitude of talents that sharpen his instincts, make him more observant. Ultimate Spy, Ultimate Psychologist, and Ultimate Detective, to name a few.
“I bet I can beat the rest of the games in here,” Hajime says.
Fuyuhiko just rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you can. You just want to show off, you bastard.”
Despite his harsh words, the other boy still hangs around for the next hour, as Hajime plays every game, setting the new high score for each.
…
Whatever Teruteru’s cooking up in the kitchen, it smells delicious.
Hajime’s sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant, listening to Nagito and the Imposter talk about a book they’ve both read. He gives his own opinions every now and then—he’s read it too, at some point during the Kamukura Project.
Mostly, though, he finds his eyes wandering over to where Fuyuhiko is chatting animatedly with Peko. Well, he’s animated. The silver-haired swordswoman is as stoic as ever, nodding along to whatever Fuyuhiko is saying.
As if he can read Hajime’s thoughts, Fuyuhiko turns and shoots him a questioning glance. Tamping down his brief embarrassment at being caught staring, Hajime gives him a smile, feeling a flicker of satisfaction when Fuyuhiko blushes in return.
”Dinner is ready!” Teruteru announces, bringing out a large pot, placing it on one of the empty tables. He darts back into the kitchen, coming back out with another, identical pot, followed by Kazuichi, Sonia, and Nekomaru, each carrying a stack of bowls.
“We’re having hotpot,” Teruteru says, giving a little flourish with his hands, while the three with the bowls start passing them out. “Everyone, take your bowl and line up. This one—“ he motions to the first pot he’d brought in, “—is vegetarian.”
Owari, unsurprisingly, is first in line to the meat hotpot, spooning big chunks of meat into her bowl. Hajime joins the line behind her, chatting idly with Ryota, who was waiting in front of him.
”Akira is a masterpiece in animation,” he’s saying excitedly as the two of them fill their bowls and find a table at random. “The attention to detail is incredible!”
Hajime nods, shoveling his dinner into his mouth as he listens to Ryota’s energetic tangent. He’s usually so quiet and reserved, but true to his talent, the Ultimate Animator really comes out of his shell whenever his specialty is brought up.
“Have you been working on anything new lately?” Hajime asks.
Ryota instantly looks a bit shyer. He always does, when his own works are brought up.
“I don’t have my drawing tablet with me right now,” he says nervously, “if you’d like, I can show you later?”
”I’d love to see,” Hajime says encouragingly. Ryota gives him a small smile.
Their conversation stills as Ryota focuses on his meal. Hajime finds his eyes drifting back over to Fuyuhiko. Fuyuhiko is facing away from him, so all Hajime can see is his back and the soft-looking, fuzzy hair on the back of his head.
He wonders what Fuyuhiko thinking about now. He wonders how it would feel to run his fingers through the other boy’s hair. He wonders if he’d led him.
Ryota follows Hajime’s gaze, then shoots him a knowing glance. “Are you and Fuyuhiko…?”
Hajime shrugs helpless. “No. But I’d like to, if he feels the same.”
Ryota gives him a sympathetic look, before standing up to refill his bowl. The second Ryota leaves, Fuyuhiko slides into the now-vacant seat. Hajime blinks in surprise at his sudden appearance. “Fuyuhiko?”
The boy in question leans in close, causing Hajime to jerk his head back a bit. “Meet me outside. We need to talk.” He slides out of the chair and leaves the restaurant.
Hajime takes a deep breath to steel his nerves, then follows him out.
He finds Fuyuhiko leaning against the side of the hotel, tapping his foot impatiently. When he sees Hajime, he shoots him a stern look. “So. Spill.”
“What?”
Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes. “You’ve been staring at me nonstop lately. I know you well enough to tell something’s on your mind. Just fuckin’ tell me.”
Hajime takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. “Do you remember in the simulation, when you invited me into your room and said you were giving me half of your life?”
Fuyuhiko blushes and looks away. “Yeah, the Brotherhood Cup. What, you wanna take it back? Tch. Too late for that.”
Hajime puts hands up in a slow-down motion. “No! No, of course not. I was just wondering…what did you mean by that?”
Fuyuhiko’s face flushes even redder. Then, in one quick motion, he yanks Hajime in by the tie and presses their lips clumsily together.
Hajime doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. In his surprise, he freezes. It’s not like he hasn’t been kissed before—he’s dated, but it’s been a while since he’s had feelings for someone. Not since Chiaki. So, he’s kind of…out of practice.
Fuyuhiko pulls away, brows furrowed, with a nervous look on his face. “I—“ he starts to stammer out. Hajime, realizing that his lack of response might have come across as a rejection, reaches out to pull the other boy back in.
When they separate once again, Hajime gives him a grin. “So…”
”Shut the fuck up,” Fuyuhiko says, but there’s a playful note to his tone. He looks away again, loosening his collar with one hand. “So. What does this make us?”
Hajime pauses, considering his words. “Whatever you’d like,” he decides. “If you want to be, y’know, boyfriends, I’d be open to that. But if you don’t want to label things, that’s fine too. Whatever makes you more comfortable.”
Fuyuhiko laughs. “Always so fuckin’ considerate.” His tone changes, a hint of nervousness breaking through. “I’ve never been in a relationship before. I’ve never had the time or the urge to, being the heir of the Kuzuryuu Clan. But if it’s with you…I’d be willing to give it a shot.”
Hajime slips his hands into Fuyuhiko’s. “Do you want to stay out here a bit longer?” he suggests, raising his eyebrows playfully.
Fuyuhiko punches him half-heartedly on the arm. “We’ve been gone long enough. They’re gonna wonder.”
”I guess so.” Hajime leads Fuyuhiko back inside, still holding his hand. They walk up the stairs together, breaking apart before they come into view—Hajime knows that Fuyuhiko’s a private person, despite his brash nature. He’ll want to have a more in-depth conversation before they start announcing things.
Hajime sits back in his seat across from Ryota. The pale-haired boy looks at him, then at Fuyuhiko, who’s returned to Peko’s side. “Did you…?”
Hajime can feel the faint flush creeping over his face. “Yeah.”
Ryota gives him a soft smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’m happy for you!”
“Thank you,” Hajime says gratefully. He takes bite of his now-lukewarm meal and looks over at Fuyuhiko, who turns around and shoots him smirk. Now, though, Hajime’s not embarrassed to be caught staring.
Instead, with an encouraging look from Ryota, he picks up his bowl and goes to join his boyfriend.