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“You’re staring at me,” Osamu said without looking up from the match log. He’d been in the basement of Tamakoma for two hours now, going over their upcoming opponents’ previous matches. Yuma came to try and get Osamu upstairs for dinner, and when that didn’t work, he brought down a plate of Konami’s curry. There was a cup of green tea too, and Yuma tried to balance it all in his hands, thanking Osamu when he got up and took the plate and cup from him.
Osamu assumed his friend would leave. After dinner, Yuma usually went back to Border for a few solo matches, but instead, Yuma pulled up a stool and sat down next to him. He didn’t say anything, and Osamu didn’t notice at first, but at some point, his friend just started staring at him.
Yuma hummed. “Yeah, I am.”
Well, at least he wasn’t going to deny it. Osamu sighed, shoulders slumping. “Why?”
“Something Chika said.”
On screen, Yuba was fast, but in real life, he was probably faster at drawing his gun. He closed the distance between himself and his opponents effortlessly, too. Hm, definitely going to be a problem. “… are you going to tell me what she said?”
Yuma shrugged. “You might freak out.”
“Then tell me in a way where I won’t freak out.”
He heard his friend huff, and there was a bout of silence until Yuma set his elbows on the table and leaned in, resting his chin in his hands. “You’re nice to look at.”
Osamu didn’t hear him at first, fully focused on the computer screen. Yuba was a threat, but Ninomiya Squad were who Osamu was really worried about. They had a solid structure, but if he could somehow crack their formation, or find a small window where he could— wait, what did Kuga say?
Osamu blinked and turned to look at his friend. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re nice to look at. Chika called you ‘pretty,’ and I agree. You are very pretty.”
“Do you know what that word means?”
Yuma rolled his eyes. “I know what ‘pretty’ means. Chika explained the concept to me and Hyuse.”
“Hyuse was there, too?”
“Yup.”
Osamu sighed, match logs completely forgotten in favor of the uncomfortable sensation bubbling up in his stomach. “I… okay, well, maybe, don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“Kuga.”
Yuma kept staring, unblinking, and Osamu was suddenly reminded of how unnerving his friend could be; the mile-long stare felt like Yuma could see right through him, past his walls and down to the ugly insecurities wriggling around inside.
Osamu shook the feeling off and turned back to the computer screen. “I’m sure you have better things to do, and I don’t want to keep you.”
“I don’t have any plans today.”
“You still owe Yoneya a fight.”
“He can wait.”
“Kuga—“
“You’re upset.” Yuma was never one to beat around the bush, and with his dry tone and to-the-point attitude, Osamu’s not surprised that most C-Rank agents thought him rude.
“I’m not upset.” He wasn’t. He was just…
“Fine. You’re not upset, but you’re not happy, either.”
“…”
“Explain it to me,” Yuma pushed.
“It’s not—“ Osamu stopped himself from saying ‘important’, because he didn’t want to lie to his friend. “I just don’t think you should call me that.”
“Why not? Chika does.”
“She shouldn’t call me that either.”
Yuma huffed. “You’re talking in circles. Is it that hard to explain it to me?”
Osamu winced. “It’s just…” He wanted to brush the conversation off. “I just don’t think that’s a good way to describe me, is all.”
It went a little deeper than that. His mom was pretty; she was tall, slender, with flawless skin and silky hair. She looked young for her age, with people often mistaking her for Osamu’s sister rather than his mother. If anyone deserved to be called pretty, it was her.
Osamu, on the other hand, was plain. He had poor vision, poor health, wasn’t very fast or strong, and didn’t stand out in any notable way.
Yuma watched him, brows pinched. “That’s a silly lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You don’t think you’re pretty?”
“I’m not. So please, stop saying that.”
Yuma huffed again and reached up to flick his forehead. “Maybe I should call you stupid, instead.”
Osamu sighed and tried to go back to the match logs, but stopped when he felt something grab his hand. Looking down, it was Yuma, his smaller hand wrapped tightly around his.
“I wasn’t done.”
Oh. His partner looked mad, all of a sudden. Osamu wasn’t sure what he could have done or said to make Yuma mad.
“Chika explained something to me, but I didn’t get it at the time. Now, I think I do. You’ve always been a sucker for those in need. I thought it ended there, but apparently, it goes deeper.” Yuma poked Osamu’s chest. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
“Kuga—“
“So troublesome,” Yuma sighed. “You don’t even see how pretty you are. So I guess it’s up to me to convince you. Not that I mind. I’m your partner for a reason.”
Osamu glanced away, the overhead light reflecting off his lenses.
“You’ve got your mom’s genes, you know? Your hair is feathery and soft. Your eyes are a unique shade of green, like oak tree leaves, and your skin is like snow. It makes the red when you blush stand out nicely. You have nice hands, they’re big and warm, and your fingers are long. I like how long they are.”
Yuma carefully threads their fingers together. “You’re nice to look at. I like looking at you; you make the loud thoughts in my head quiet. Chika likes it too, and Hyuse.”
“What?” Osamu nearly jumped out of his seat. “Hyuse?”
“He’s starting to see the light,” Yuma joked, pursing his lips. “You’re pretty, not just on the outside, but on the inside too. You put others before yourself, care about others more than yourself; you had no reason to trust me when we first met, but even after learning I was a Neighbor, you gave me the benefit of the doubt.
“You’re honest. I told you before, I hate it when people lie. I’m used to it and expect it, but I know you do your best to be honest with me. Even when you want to lie or are uncomfortable telling me the truth about something, you still do it.
“I don’t tell you often, because I think my actions speak louder than words, but I forget that sometimes, you need to hear me say this. You are pretty. Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous. All the sy…syno… hold on.” Yuma silently tried sounding out the word. “Synonyms. I think I’m saying that right. Anyway, you’re all the synonyms.”
Osamu’s face felt too warm, and his chest was a jumbled twist of emotions. He squeezed Yuma’s hand. A silent I need a minute.
Yuma smiled and sat quietly, waiting for his friend to calm down. He was used to Osamu suddenly feeling overwhelmed; when it happened, he usually needed a while to calm down, or he risked overheating.
He was kind of like a computer. Yuma snickered to himself.
“Okay, I think I’m good.” Osamu awkwardly fixed his glasses with his free hand.
“You’re just full of silly lies today.”
“Well…”
“That’s okay. I’ll take a silly lie over a stupid one.”
Osamu took a deep breath, the tips of his ears red. “I didn’t know you thought all that.”
“I do.” He’d probably never be able to express how much he really appreciated Osamu. Osamu was more than just a friend. He was more than just his Captain. He was someone Yuma loved, the same way he loved his father and Replica.
Coming to Japan, Yuma was so sure he’d be able to bring his father back, and when that didn’t work, he was ready to die. He didn’t want to, but a bigger part of him was just tired.
But then Osamu found him sitting on the roof, and without hesitation, asked him to join Tamakoma-2. He gave Yuma a new purpose, held out his hand, big and warm, and offered Yuma a new place to belong.
He made room for Yuma, not just on the team, not just in Border, but in his personal life.
I realized something, He said one day. They were alone at Tamakoma, sitting around the coffee table. My life isn’t my own anymore. And before Osamu could panic, Yuma smiled. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it. Keep it, throw it away, but I know you, so I know that it’s safe with you.
Yuma never once regretted his decision. His life would always be safe in Osamu’s hands. “My pretty Captain.”
“Sounds like you’re making fun of me.”
“Never~”
Osamu didn’t look convinced. “That tone of yours suggests otherwise.”
“What tone?” Yuma joked. “I don’t have a tone.”
“… you’ve been spending too much time with Jin.”
“Hah. Maybe.”
The atmosphere around them felt comfortable, and the tension in Osamu’s shoulders was slowly leaving. He was always so stressed, Yuma mused, it’s nice seeing him relax a little.
“Maybe when the Rank Wars are over, we can go out as a team. Do something fun.”
“If you want. We could—“
“Maybe we’ll convince you as a group.”
“Kuga.”
Yuma grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
Osamu let out a small laugh.
“Chika and Hyuse will back me up. We’ll shower you with compliments.”
“Please don’t.”
“Leave you all red and blush-y.”
“Kuga.”
“Okay, okay.”
A Month Later
Osamu’s face felt like it was on fire. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were burnt red, and his chest was tight, making it almost impossible to breathe.
“I like his eyes the most,” Yuma loudly whispered. “They’re different shades of green, did you notice?”
Chika smiled, nodding along. “I have, and if you look closely, you’ll see little specs of yellow.”
“It’s more of a gold,” Hyuse said, tone serious, despite the topic of conversation.
“Hm. Gold and green go really well together.” Yuma reached over and poked Osamu’s cheek. “But red looks good on him, too.”
Chika giggled. “Osamu always looked nice in red.”
Hyuse leaned in, eyes strategically looking his Captain over. After a while, he leaned away and said, “I agree. His pale complexion is unblemished, and pairs well with how often he blushes.”
Osamu honestly couldn’t believe they were talking about this. “Will you three stop already?”
Yuma pursed his lips. “Not until you believe us.”
“If I say I do—“
“Silly lies don’t count.”
“Kuga.”
“Have you noticed,” Chika spoke up, voice soft, “how nice his hands feel in your hair?”
“Yes.” Yuma never agreed with someone so quickly in his life.
“I haven’t experienced that,” Hyuse said.
“You should ask him, it feels so nice,” Yuma hummed, draping himself over Osamu, who sputtered. “It’s even better when he tells you how good you’ve been.”
Chika blushed at that, and when Hyuse shot her a questioning look, she nodded. “It does. It’s nice when Reiji tells me how much I’ve improved, but when Osamu says it, I just feel… It feels different.”
“Getting praised by Osamu is the best.” Yuma beckoned Chika over, and she only hesitated for a second before coming up on Osamu’s left and pressing up against his chest.
Osamu sighed, but wrapped one arm around her and the other around Yuma.
Hyuse watched, thinking something over. “I plan on participating in a few solo matches tomorrow. I would like you to come and watch me.”
“O-okay, sure.” Osamu didn’t have any plans tomorrow, so he didn’t mind spending the afternoon watching Hyuse fight.
Yuma chuckled. “What’s that? You don’t want me or Chika there? Only Osamu?”
“A Captain’s opinion outranks yours.”
Eventually, Osamu couldn't take it anymore and got up to start making dinner. Yuma followed after him, while Hyuse and Chika worked to set the table.
“I told you,” Yuma said, fishing out a pot from the cupboard. “You’re pretty to us. On the inside and out.”
Osamu had his back to him, slowly picking out ingredients from the fridge to make stew. “I appreciate it,” he mumbled out. “It’s still hard, hearing what you three think of me, but I appreciate it.” He turned to face his best friend. “Thank you, Kuga.”
“Anytime, Osamu.”