Chapter Text
"So why'd you only get sent here until just now?" Kusakabe asked. He threw the ball at Seki, who eagerly captured it in his calloused palms.
"Huh?" He stared up at Kusakabe, his wide, downturned eyes holding ample curiosity.
"Why couldn't you come by before?"
"Oh," Seki frowned, "I was… busy."
"Is it confidential?" Kusakabe asked.
"Yes," Seki replied. "I couldn't tell you, even if I wanted to." Despite his glum demeanor and tone, Seki's lips politely curled in Kusakabe's direction. He gently pitched the ball back at him.
"Hmph."
Kusakabe caught the ball and took a moment to turn it in his hands.
After some time, he rolled his eyes. "What does Usami even have you do?" The name flimsily rolled off his tongue.
"That's confidential as well," Seki murmured. "Sorry," he apologized.
"Confidential this, confidential that— bah! Soon, you're gonna say that your association with me is confidential," Kusakabe sighed. "How am I supposed to do collaborate with you on anything without really… I dunno, knowing you?" He threw the ball up in a straight line and snatched it out of the air just as quick.
Seki tilted his head, a sheepish smirk on his face.
Kusakabe frowned.
"What's that look for?" He tossed the ball back at Seki.
Seki snagged it with one hand. "Oh, nothing," he fiddled with the ball. "I just think that it's funny."
"What is?"
"That you're just so… interested in what I do, who I am, and, well… all those things."
Seki lobbed the ball back at Kusakabe.
"Because you're a total mystery!" Kusakabe exclaimed, raising his arm to once again trap the ball in his fingers. His limb then lowered, and he fostered the ball with both palms, occasionally squeezing it.
Seki's brows raised in surprise, and an ugly crease formed on his forehead. It was just barely visible past the long, thick partitions of hair that draped themselves over his gloomy face.
"You don't say much, but you fight like some maniac even if you act like a total wimp every other second of the day! You dive head-first into every situation like it's nothing— screaming and flailing in fear all the while," Kusakabe ranted, "and yet, you succeed." He motioned with his hands, not bothering to pay any mind to how the ball hindered the movement of his fingers.
"You look after every single one of these damn students like they're your own— when you don't even qualify to work here as a mentor! You still take advice from me!" He jabbed a thumb to his chest. "Not to mention the fact you're still not exactly on great terms with Gojo and the rest," he spoke, "but you still make it work. You don't let those petty things get to you at all!" His raving ebbed to pensive murmurs. He slumped with defeat after a few moments of staring. He lowered his gaze from Seki, staring at the ground with increased thoughtfulness.
"That's… not anything I could do," he mumbled. "I—I mean," he stumbled, his eyes frantically scanning for anything interesting to look at. "…Throwing yourself into danger, like that, I…"
The orange heat of the setting sun casted itself upon Seki's left side. He adjusted his striped tie with anxiety and combed his bony fingers through a few strands of his hair, looking down at the open dirt path they both sat cross legged on.
Seki's hands brought themselves together, and he, for once, was glad he wasn't wearing his gloves— his palms were abundantly clammy. He began to feel a bit warm in his dark, verdant coat, but he didn't want to make the situation awkward. He took a quick glance at the students in the grassy section of the schoolyard. They were no longer training with each other, but rather, playing tag.
He stared back up at Kusakabe, his brows furrowing with more concern than surprise now.
"I wouldn't be this way if it weren't for you and the others," he attempted to debate. "In fact, without everyone, I'd still be in Kobē— in that trashy apartment… still wallowing in my own self pity."
Kusakabe raised his head, and a light, cynical smile met his features.
"No," he denied.
"What?"
"No," Kusakabe repeated, "you're this way because you, Mikao, are a good person."
"That's not true—!" Seki swiftly jumped to converse. "You are all so strong, so… talented, I mean— I couldn't imagine how much pressure you all must be under, really— but my acts on the battlefield are ridiculous!" He argued. "They're irrational, and… negligent, and uncalculated— if anything, they skew the results that you all need from me—"
"You don't have to use all those fancy words to make your point," Kusakabe said, "you may be a science guy, but you're forgetting one part of this equation."
"And that is?" Seki asked, waiting with bated breath.
"Your actions may be unreasonable— sure, but they're what we need— they're unpredictable. You've stepped in at the right time and place time and time again, and you know how to think on your feet. You've saved countless lives," Kusakbe spoke.
He slowly raised his arm again, and mildly threw the ball back at Seki.
"Humans are unpredictable themselves. No matter how you look at it. No matter how exact you can make the 'data,' the human hand will always be slightly off. So don't beat yourself up about being a bit off-kilter."
Seki silently raised his hands toward the ball, but it hit his fingertips and dropped to the ground, bouncing once, then twice, before rolling a few feet to his right.
He made no effort to move and grab it.
Seki stared back up at Kusakabe's lightly grinning face.
"I should be the one telling you that, as an ex-science teacher," Seki exhaled.
Kusakabe shrugged. "I just thought you should hear it," he said. "You, uh… you're really good at what you do."
"And uh… not to mention, you're a great role model to the kids," he quietly added.
He shoved a hand into his pocket, grabbing a lollipop and peeling back the wrapper before tossing it in his mouth. He tongued at it a couple times, the sounds of soft clattering of the sugar against his teeth breaking past his closed lips.
"I dunno," Seki doubtfully replied. His own gaze quickly drifted back to Kusakabe's visage. "I… uh… still think you're pretty great, nonetheless. You've taught me a lot."
Kusakabe softly smirked, but paused and tried to force his lips down.
"Uh, yeah, yeah…" he wagged his hand at Seki. "Whatever."
Seki hummed out a small laugh at Kusakabe's lousy attempt to retain his guise of nonchalance.
"If it makes you feel better," Seki began. He brought a hand to his own face. "You've taught me a lot more than Usami did," he loudly whispered.
Kusakabe's face and the tips of his ears flushed with a sore, rosy hue.
"No I haven't," he quickly denied.
"No, no, it's true!" Seki smiled, "but just keep that between the two of us, okay?"
Kusakabe sighed, fighting his own rebelliously-smiling face. Ultimately, he lost.
"Alright," he nodded. "Fine. Your secret is safe with me."