Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

           “Look at them!” Jai scoffed. “Bunch of pussies. They can’t run for shit!”

            Reno looked out from his perch in the tree, only half interested. “Blond kid’s not bad,” he pronounced, ignoring the fact that the ‘kid’ was about his own age. “I could take him though.”

            “Yeah?”

            Reno shaded his eyes against the sun and watched the sons of Midgar high society running back and forth across the sports field. Clad in identical Shinra Red shorts and white t-shirts, the pupils of the exclusive Shinra Academy presented a strange spectacle to the two underplaters in the tree. The blond boy was the fastest by some way, but he hadn’t learned to run in the Sector Five slums where escaping a pursuer quickly could make the difference between living to re-commit whatever crime you were being chased for, and - not.

            “Yeah,” said Reno, after due consideration. “He’s good, but I’m better. They’re gonna race around that track in a minute – like on TV. We’ll count to time how long it takes, and when they’ve gone in I’ll do it faster.”

            Jai’s freckled nose wrinkled. “Nah. Dare you to do it now – when they do. Once around, and then back under the fence.”           

            “They’ll send someone after me.”

            “So? If you’re as good as you reckon, they’ll never catch you. You’re the fastest runner in Five – everyone says so.”

            “And what’re you gonna do?”

            “Watch. Time you. I’ll stay here until they go in, and catch up with you later. If they close up the hole in the fence, I got the wire cutters, don’t I? C’mon, Reno. They’re getting’ set up. Look – if you sneak up behind the stand you can jump out and join in from the start almost.”

            “They’ll have a head start…”

             Jai grinned, seeing how much his friend was tempted by the idea of racing the richest kids in Midgar. “Yeah – but you’re faster, ain’t ya? So you can catch ‘em.”

            “Okay!” Reno decided, pulling off his stolen boots and handing them to Jai. “You hang on to these then. Can’t run too fast in those fuckers, flash as they are. Don’t lose ‘em. They cost three hundred and fifty gil. Or – you know – would’ve. And if I do it, you owe me noodles from Ella’s – deal?”

            “Deal. Go!”

            Reno slipped silently down from the tree and ran swiftly across the open grass to the sports stand. Jai watched as Reno made his way quickly along the back of the stand and halted, peering around the corner at the line of boys who were on their marks, waiting for the race to start.

            From his vantage point Reno could see the blond kid crouched in his lane, a look of intense concentration on his face.

            The crack of the pistol made Reno jump, but he reacted immediately, slipping out of the shadow of the stand and running onto the track just behind the blond kid who glanced at him over his shoulder then did an outraged double take as he saw the outlandish figure trying to come level with him. Reno grinned at him as he drew alongside, and the boy’s jaw set. He picked up his pace and Reno had to exert himself more than he’d expected in order to overtake, passing Blondie with a cheerful wave. The other boys were already seconds behind. Reno flew around the track, his feet hot on the springy artificial surface. He was so caught up in the exhilaration of speed and competition that it wasn’t until he rounded the last bend and was approaching the home straight that he realised people were shouting at him from near the school. Reno only ran faster. The blond kid was doing an impressive job of trying to keep up, but with every stride Reno increased his lead. A massive man in sports kit was jumping up and down at the finish line, shouting something, but Reno swerved past him grinning, punching the air in victory. His expression froze seconds later when he heard the chilling baying of dogs, and he began to run in earnest.

            The hole in the wire fence surrounding the school was hidden by a patch of scrubby bushes. The quickest route to escape passed directly under the tree in which Jai was concealed and Reno knew that if the dogs passed that close they’d scent his friend, so he took off at an angle, only turning towards the gap in the fence once he was well clear of Jai’s precarious hiding place.

            The detour cost him precious seconds, but he thought he’d be able to make it. He couldn’t really believe that a school would employ the kind of security willing to set dogs on a kid, but he wasn’t about to take that chance. Diving into the bushes at the edge of the sports field, Reno found the gap in the fence and began to wriggle through on his belly, agile as an eel. He was almost through – almost –

            Reno yelped as pain needled through his right ankle. His first thought was that he’d caught himself on the wire, but when he turned he found himself staring straight into the yellow eyes of a monstrous black-furred animal whose teeth were clamped onto his leg.  Two men in dark blue uniforms grabbed Reno’s uninjured leg and pulled him backwards through the fence, all his attempts to struggle futile, his fingers scrabbling at dirt and long grasses in vain. Only once he was back inside the fence, one of the guards positioned between Reno and freedom, did the other one order, “Leave!” and the creature released its grip.

            Struggling to his feet, Reno bent to examine his mauled ankle. Blood was running freely over his dusty bare foot, but when he pulled up the leg of his jeans he was relieved to see that the two puncture wounds left by the creature’s teeth weren’t as deep as he’d feared. A grey-haired, grey-suited man came rushing up, followed by two teachers in sports kit and the boys who had been involved in the race. The blond boy stood at the front of the group of pupils, regarding Reno curiously.

            Reno played to his audience, speaking deliberately loudly, putting on a distracting show in the hope that no one would think to wonder whether he was alone. Gesturing dramatically to his leg and his ruined jeans, Reno took a deep breath to control the pain he refused to acknowledge. He focussed on the holes in his jeans – which he minded more than the ones in his leg - and said, in his best outraged tone, “Overkill, much?”

            “What are you doing here?” the grey man asked.

            “Nothin’,” Reno said, truthfully. “Hangin’, yo.”

            “What? Speak properly, boy! Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in – trespassing on Shinra property, threatening my pupils –”

            “Whoa, whoa – backtrack, yo!” Reno interrupted, alarmed. “I never threatened no one! It was just a fuckin’ race, yo!”

            One or two of the boys murmured and smirked at the swear word, but the blond boy watched impassively.

            “Thought I was faster,” Reno added, unable to hide his pride in the achievement, “an’ I was faster! Man, I could out run a friggin’ SOLDIER! I am the shit, and ya know it, yo, so maybe Shinra ain’t all that like you Upsiders reckon, yo.”

            “For heaven’s sake stop saying ‘yo’ in that infantile fashion and attempt to speak like a rational human being,” the man responded, clearly unimpressed by Reno’s prowess at either running or communication. “I’ll give you one more chance to answer the question, before I ask security to take you to Shinra headquarters where the Turks might be able to get some sense out of you.”

            “Yeah, no need for that,” muttered Reno, effectively doused. “What was the question?”

            “What were you doing here?” the man sighed.

            “I told you – nothing’,” Reno said. “I come up here sometimes – for the sun.”

            “The sun?”

            “Yeah. Days the sun’s out. There’s the grass – all green an’ shi – uh – green. It’s – nice.” Reno stared hard at a boy who sniggered, until the kid dropped his gaze.

            “And how do you get here?” Reno’s inquisitor persisted.

            On the train,” Reno lied. “If you keep movin’ you can get around security. I jus’ come up here and lie in the sun sometimes. That ain’t a crime, is it?”

            “No – but theft is.”

            “What? I ain’t no thief!” lied Reno again, all bristling indignation.

            “Then how ever did you afford those jeans, which I know to my cost, since my sons insist on the brand, are two hundred gil a pair?”

            “My mom worked extra shifts in the factory for ten weeks to get me these!” Reno improvised. “For my birthday. Best present ever – and look what your dog done!”

            “Did,” corrected the suit, impervious to Reno’s sob story. “I thought Shinra funded schools in the slums. But I suppose you’re too busy tricking your way up here and lounging about in the sun to bother with anything as trivial as education.”

            “Only done it a few times,” Reno said. “I go to school, mostly. What’s it to you anyway? You don’t care about my education.”  

            “Actually I care about education in general, which is why I became a teacher and then headmaster of this school. But we’re getting away from the point. Even if I choose to believe your story, the fact is you’ve trespassed on Shinra property and caused a security breech.” He looked towards the two guards. “Escort him to my office. And ask matron to look at his leg on the way.”

            Before the guards could reply the blond boy stepped forward. “Sir, may I ask him a question?”

            “Certainly.”

            The boy approached Reno, but both guards closed in, one of them laying a restraining hand on Reno’s shoulder. The blond boy stopped a few feet from Reno and looked at him out of intensely blue eyes. “Why did you do that?” he asked in a cool tone that suggested he was used to having his questions answered. “Why race? You could have stayed out of sight.”

            Reno stared back, unabashed. “Wanted to see if I could beat you. Thought I could – wanted to know for sure.”

            “You wanted to beat me - in particular?”

            “Well, yeah. You’re the fastest.”

            The blond boy’s expression became subtly less hostile. “That’s why?”

            “Yeah. Why else?” Reno’s eyes narrowed. “What am I missin’?”

            The headmaster asked, “Do you know who this is?”

            Reno shrugged. “Some rich kid. How should I know? He can run. Not as good as me, but he ain’t bad.”

            “ ‘As well as me’. ‘Isn’t bad’,” the head corrected automatically.

            “He doesn’t know who I am,” the blond boy said. “I think he’s telling the truth – about coming here for the sun, anyway. Probably not about the theft.”

            “Who are ya, then?” Reno asked, a little unsettled that the boy was so on the money. “What’s so friggin’ important about you?”

            No one answered him.

            “Take him inside,” the head told the guards. “Sweep the perimeter, just to be sure, but I agree with – I agree that he’s probably telling the truth.”

            “Yeah – but – who are you?” Reno called to the boy over his shoulder as the guards led him away. The boy made no reply.

X

            The students were left standing on the field after the slum boy was dragged off. It seemed field practice was over for the day. As they made their way back towards the building the whir of helicopter blades cut through the silence. The boys stepped back, the wind blowing back their hair. As soon as the chopper was on the ground a young Wutaian man in a black suit jumped down and jogged towards the blond boy.

                  The other students stared, whispering to one another. Some were simply excited that something interesting was happening, others were speculating whether or not the Turks were going to arrest the redhead or kill him. There were plenty of rumors about the Turks.

                  The Turk came to a stop in front of the blond boy.

                  “Are you all right, sir?” he asked.

                  “I’m fine, nothing happened,” he said. Everyone was watching them now, so much for feeling normal. “You’re embarrassing me.” The boy complained in a hissed whisper.

                  If the Turk cared about his charge’s discomfort he did not show it. Instead he addressed himself to headmaster. “Tseng of the Turks,” he introduced himself. “Our department will require a full report on today’s security breach as soon as possible. I’m taking Rufus Shinra home until we determine the location is secure.”

                  “What?” cried Rufus. Next week was spring break and he hadn’t intended to go home for the holiday. However, he wasn’t going to argue with Tseng about it here in front of everyone like a child whining at their babysitter. This couldn’t get more embarrassing! Rufus pushed back his hair. “Well then,” he said, “I suppose my break starts early, have a nice break everyone.” He waved and started towards the helicopter as though leaving had been his idea in the first place.

                  Once they were on board Tseng asked him what exactly happened. Rufus told him about the boy. “I’ve never seen anyone run so fast. He would have gotten away if they hadn’t set the hounds on him, but really I think he’s harmless. Well, not a threat to me at least. What’s going to happen to him?” 

X

            The school matron was a vigorous young woman who tutted over the wounds on Reno’s leg, washed and bound his ankle, and obstinately refused to answer any questions.

            She shook her head, smiling, as he asked for the umpteenth time, “So – you know a blond kid – good runner – about thirteen or fourteen?”

            “Didn’t anyone ever tell you what curiosity did to the cat?”

            Reno made a face. “Yeah. My mom says if I don’t die in jail I’m gonna die from stickin’ my nose in where it’s not wanted. But she ain’t hardly never sober, so who gives a fuck what she thinks, yeah?”

            “Now – I’m just going to give you a tetanus shot,” the matron said, turning to a wooden cabinet and taking something out.

            Reno jumped up from his chair and backed towards the door. Unfortunately that was blocked by one of the hulking security guards who had adamantly refused to leave him alone with the matron.

            “Don’t come near me with none of that Shinra shit!” Reno cried, really frightened for the first time that day. “I’ve heard the stories, yo! Ain’t no one stickin’ no needles in me! I don’t wanna wake up in some lab somewhere!”

            “If I wanted to harm you I’d hardly waste my time cleaning your ankle, would I?” the matron said calmly. “This is the same shot you probably had at school when you were five. It’s to stop you getting an infection from those bites. Guard hounds probably carry all sorts of bugs.”

            “I’ll take my chances.”

            “I’m sorry. I’d be neglecting my duty if I let you leave without the shot.” She signalled to the guard who grabbed Reno’s upper arms before he could get away. Reno cursed and struggled for all he was worth, but the matron jabbed the needle into his arm close to where the guard was holding it.

            “This is assault!” Reno yelled, rubbing his arm furiously as soon as the guard released him. “You can’t jus’ go around stabbing people with needles, yo! What’s gonna happen to me?”

            “Nothing. You’re protected against tetanus. That’s it.” Matron looked wearily at the guard. “You can take him to see the headmaster now.”

            Reno kept his head up and his jaw set as he was marched along wide corridors panelled in dark wood and floored with some kind of shiny white stone. His defiance was mostly an act now and he had to fight not to cry. He wasn’t scared of much – authority figures didn’t cow him – but the rumours circulating in the slums about people who disappeared off the streets under the plate, and the things that happened to them afterwards on certain floors of the Shinra building, were enough to give the bravest child nightmares. He only hoped that Jai had managed to get away.

            Despite Reno’s fears, it seemed that the matron had been telling the truth. He was only detained in the head’s office until he finally gave his real name and address. The security guard made a phone call, and a few minutes later the head received a call on his desk phone. As he listened to whoever was speaking at the end of the line, his eyes flicked to Reno, then away, then back again. Reno strained to hear the other side of the conversation, but the voice was too faint. “Yes – well he certainly has some athletic ability,” the head said. “All right, but only on condition that everything else is at least in line with expectations… Yes – well, I always did enjoy a challenge…. Thank you. Goodbye.”

            The head looked up at Reno. “All right – you can go. I wouldn’t recommend coming back up here again. This school is private property, so unless we see you here as a pupil in the future –”

            Reno snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s happenin’, yo!”

            “Stranger things have happened,” the head observed mildly, although Reno noticed that his left eye twitched at the ‘yo’. “Mr. Downs here will escort you to the gates. Goodbye, Reno.”

            “See ya, yo!” Reno said, with a cheerful wave. He was almost sure now that no one was about to kidnap him for sinister experiments, but he wouldn’t relax until he was safely back under the plate with Jai. The guard, Downs, took him to the huge wrought iron gates of the school, which opened silently at their approach. “Cool,” said Reno. “They electric?”

            Mr. Downs seemed disinclined to comment. Once Reno was outside the school boundary, Downs growled, “Don’t come back.”

            “Have a nice day, yo!” Reno yelled as Downs turned away. Reno sauntered along the street – a tree-lined boulevard he’d never seen before in his excursions above the plate – until he’d rounded a corner and was out of sight of the school, whereupon he fled as fast as his damaged ankle would carry him, using the far-off Shinra tower as a landmark to navigate his way back to a drain in a dead-end alley by a little Sector One theatre.

            Looking around carefully to make sure he hadn’t been followed, Reno lifted the drain cover and slipped down into the sewers, which would take him to an abandoned kamira bug nest where the bugs had dug down through the plate itself, their corrosive faeces destroying the metal. The underside of the plate looked relatively featureless from the ground, but in places it was actually a tangle of pipes and struts, to one of which Reno and Jai had managed to attach a rope they’d found by chance while exploring the under-plate sewers. Reno descended the rope with a speed that would have impressed the strictest gym teacher at the Shinra Academy, leapt down onto the roof of the tallest building in Under One, through the jimmied fire door, and down the concrete stairs to street level. Once on the Under ground, it was a long run back to Five and the den in the outer wall that he and Jai kept secret from everyone else. To Reno’s utter relief, Jai had been there. Reno’s boots were tucked into the hiding place. Replacing the boots with two small stones – the ‘okay’ signal – Reno repositioned the loose brick to conceal the hidey hole, pulled on his boots, and made his way home, whistling.

            When he got home, he found his mom was still snoring on the couch. She opened her eyes briefly when he came in, but she was too out of it to ask, or to care, where he’d been. 

X

Chapter Text

After the incident, it had seemed all the school could talk about was the red haired boy who’d broken into school grounds just to race Rufus Shinra.

‘What was he trying to prove?”

“I don’t think he was trying to prove anything; he didn’t even know it was Rufus Shinra he was racing.”

“How can you not know who Rufus Shinra is? Is he stupid?”

“Of course he’s stupid, he’s from the slums. They don’t know anything down there. You know they eat rats, right?”

“Rat eater or not, he beat Rufus.”

And so the gossip went, along with other things. Word was even the girls’ school was talking about it, many of the ladies lamenting that they hadn’t been there to see it and asking if Reno was cute.

“They say he wears stolen clothes, I bet he’s a bad boy. Maybe he smokes cigarettes and rides a motorcycle.”

“Motorcycle gangs are up-plate, I don’t even think they have roads in the slums.”

“I love guys with bikes, bad boys are so sexy.”

“Do you think he wears leather, like a stolen leather jacket? That would be hot.”

“I bet he’s super athletic - after all he did beat Rufus Shinra.”

The school’s gossip regularly spread across both campuses; the incident in question seemed to be the first time in recent memory that anything legitimately exciting had happened. For his part, Rufus was getting very tired of hearing about being “beaten”.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he said. “I’m sure there are plenty of people faster than I am. Nor do I intend to have a career in track and field.” Pretending not to care and giving as little energy to the situation as possible seemed the best strategy.

Rufus had taken a seat at an empty table, and had been joined by three other boys, Sinclair Tudor-Whittington, a dark-haired, dark-eyed pretty boy who had delusions of mattering, and his two lackeys Victor Percy and Morgan Cecil. Victor and Morgan were first cousins who shared family ties to old money that gave them the same delusions as Sinny, although their families actually did something and they realized that their best bet was to get in with someone who actually mattered. Unfortunately Rufus had no use for them, and so they followed Sinclair as if they were paid to flank him.

As soon as they’d sat down, Sinclair had started on about the race, and Rufus’s best efforts to be dismissive of the whole thing did little to end the topic.

“You’re still one of the fastest in the school,” said Morgan. “And he beat you by a lot.”

“And he’s just a slum-kid, hasn’t trained at all. Unless you count running from the authorities as training,” joked Victor.

“He’s a talented runner, slum or not,” Rufus conceded. “The fact he’s fast even without training is admirable.” Rufus had often chatted with the Turks and over time had learned they came from all walks of life, with very few from the sort of background you could call privileged. Rufus was of the opinion that rich or poor, slum or plate, Wutaian descent or native, people ought to be judged according to their talent and that talent should be appreciated.

Rufus really didn’t care that other people were more talented than him at running. He had his own natural talents, like music, and worked to the best in subjects that actually mattered. Rufus had no idea why he should feel especially embarrassed for being beaten by a slum kid.

“Oh you’re defending the rat-eater now?” asked Sinclair. “What, is he your boyfriend?”

Rufus rolled his eyes. “Oh my, what a clever retort - so original. Did they teach you that in debate? How about this, I’ll give you my PHS number and you can call me when you think of an intelligent counter point.”

Rufus Shinra was very good at appearing untouchable, as if nothing could make him bleed or cry. Nothing seemed to bother Rufus, not in a cheerful easy-going way but in a ‘so above everything’ sort of way. He would not rise to taunts, especially ones that hit closer to home than anyone knew. The first rule was never show weakness. As much as he’d have loved to tell Sinclair to fuck off he couldn’t let anyone think they’d gotten under his skin.

In truth, Rufus was bothered that the boy had beaten him, not because the boy was under plate but because Rufus didn’t like being beaten at anything. While he acknowledged Reno’s talent and that running really shouldn’t matter, he hated losing. He hated being seen as a loser. Even Rufus’s father, in the midst of ranting about the security breach, had taken the time to reprimand his son.

The afternoon following the incident, Rufus had been called into President Shinra’s office. When he arrived Veld and Tseng were already there.
“Ah Rufus, there you are,” said his father. “Veld’s just finished briefing me on the incident at your school today: unforgivable security breach. What kind of incompetents is that school hiring? I ought to cut their funding and pull you out.”

Rufus thought that if the school were in any way subpar increasing funding would be a better solution than cutting it, but held his tongue on that point. “Well, I will be fifteen soon. Perhaps I could begin an apprenticeship here rather than completing formal schooling? I want to know the company inside out if I’m to run it someday.”

“That is still an if,” said the President. “Don’t assume you’re going to inherit everything. Even if you do succeed me, it won’t be for a very long time. No need to rush. You’ll finish your schooling. The question is whether it will be here or another school. There’s a highly recommended one up near Icicle.”

Rufus, who had always been intolerant of cold and fond of layers and coats even in warmer climates, did his best not to bristle at the suggestion as his father continued, “Or Junon’s Military Academy. Not that I’d let you see active service, but maybe they could whip you into shape. I can’t believe you allowed some common guttersnipe beat you. You’re a Shinra, Rufus, do you think it’s acceptable for you to just be a loser? I expect you to be the best!”

“At running?” asked Rufus, laughing as though his father’s words meant nothing to him, “Why would I need to be good at running when I’m capable of standing my ground? Surely ou’re not saying a Shinra should run away - which is exactly what I’d be doing if I switched schools?”

The President stared at his son, unable to form a retort. Out of the corner of his eyes Rufus thought he caught a ghost of a smile from Tseng. Rufus brushed his hair back, and continued. “However, I do agree that security should be overhauled and the lot of them fired. The only security member who performed well was the guard hound.” Fortunately for the boy - a lesser dog might have torn his leg apart the minute it got hold of him. The ability to bite and hold was what distinguished an excellent security animal from a common junkyard dog.

“Indeed,” said the President. “Veld, I’m going to recommend that the school replace its security personnel and I want you to personally oversee the replacement selection and make any recommendations you think necessary to improve the school’s security. You’re scheduled for vacation for the next two weeks? I want you to cancel your plans and make this a priority. I want this taken care of this without cutting into company time or resources.”

Veld, who would typically comply without question, hesitated. “Sir, I’ve promised my daughter I’d-“

“Your daughter, how old is she?”

“Twelve, sir,”” said Veld.

“Ah, you’ve got years to spend time with her,” said the President, “but the current matter is pressing. I’m trusting you with my son’s safety. After you’ve sorted this out I’m sure we’ll be able to reschedule your time off. She’ll have other school holidays. You know, she could always transfer to the Academy herself; you’d be able to see her more often that way. I’m sure she’s a bright girl.”

Rufus never met Veld’s daughter, Felicia, or if he had he didn’t remember. Veld kept his family away from Shinra Company; his daughter lived with her mother in Kalm. Veld visited when he could, which wasn’t often from what Rufus could gather. He wasn’t surprised that his father didn’t understand why spending time with Felicia would be important to Veld. Spending time Rufus had never seemed very important to the President.

Not that it mattered to Rufus. He didn’t want to spend time with the President anyway. Besides, his school break was going to be busy with training. Rufus was sure he could increase his top time on the track with enough work. Perhaps he could get a treadmill.

Rufus didn’t like losing, and he wasn’t going to simply accept his defeat. Not that he’d get an opportunity for a rematch, unfortunately.

During spring break Rufus lived in the gym, in between studying. He’d learned at eleven that his father expected him to prioritize ‘useful’ pursuits that would make Rufus a worthy successor. The President certainly didn’t care what Rufus enjoyed doing. They’d had a conversation about Rufus’s preoccupation with music when Rufus finished primary school.

Rufus didn’t understand how it was that his father could on the one hand forbid him to study music during secondary school so that he could devote himself to ‘serious’ pursuits but at the same time expect him to be the best at running. Rufus supposed that while sports were as useless as music when it came to running a business or ruling the world, being bad at sports meant weakness. Rufus’s father could not tolerate weakness.

The worst part was, Rufus wasn’t even bad at sports. He had the fastest time in his class! Did his father honestly expect him to better than absolutely everyone? Thankfully, by the time classes resumed the gossip had died down a little, although not entirely. Rufus was angry at the student body for being so stupid and angry at his father for a great many things, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at the red haired boy who had raced him.

The boy who had no idea he was Rufus Shinra.

Rufus could not remember a time when he hadn’t been aware that he was the President’s son and what that meant. Everyone else knew too, which meant no one really saw him as simply Rufus. He was Rufus Shinra, heir to the most powerful man in the world. Some of his peers hated Rufus for his position, jealous that Rufus ‘thought’ he was important (personally, Rufus held that he didn’t think anything on the matter); others tried to get close to him. He was the connection to make, even for children born well connected.

Because he was Rufus Shinra there were perfect strangers who would kill him if given the chance (the Turks insured they wouldn’t get a chance). Because he was Rufus Shinra he could never know if anyone was telling the truth or lying to him (it seemed safer to assume most people were liars). Because he was Rufus Shinra he could never be a hundred percent certain if his teachers graded him fairly or if the other kids let him win at sports (though Rufus put enough work that he was reasonably certain he earned his own way). Because he was Rufus Shinra he’d never had anyone he considered a real friend (though he was fond of Tseng like a favored babysitter or even a brother and some of his peers at school really weren’t all that bad, but how could he really let anyone close?)

The redhead had wanted to race him because he was the fastest. In that moment, at least to that kid, he hadn’t been Rufus Shinra. He’d been a worthy opponent. Racing the boy had actually been fun. It was surprising and invigorating. The way the kid had smirked at him as he passed, egging him on. Rufus had wanted to show him.

Not that he’d stood a chance, but Rufus wasn’t a sore loser. No, he’d wanted a rematch. Rufus had never had a real rival either. Of course, security had arrived and sicced the hounds on the boy. That really had been overkill. By the time security responded it was obvious the boy wasn’t a threat. If he’d intended to hurt Rufus he could have done it by the time they responded.Why had his father seemed more upset that he’d lost the race than relieved it hadn’t been a real threat? If it had been an assassin instead of just some kid, then Rufus might have been hurt or even killed.

It didn’t matter. Rufus had long ago given up on his father hugging him or pretending to care. It was just that sometimes it seemed the only thing his dad felt about Rufus was disappointment.

Just over a month later Reno was summoned to the head’s office at his own school. For once, he had absolutely no idea what he’d done wrong. He hadn’t been involved in a fight for weeks – not since before he’d been put into a new group with two girls and one other boy, where a teacher he didn’t know had tried to convince him that taking endless tests for two weeks solid was some kind of privilege. He hadn’t even given the teacher much grief, since the other pupils in the group weren’t the kind you had to show your teeth to. Had some member of staff seen him sneaking into the boiler room for a quick smoke? They didn’t normally bother to make a fuss about that kind of thing.

When he reached the office he found one of the girls from his group waiting outside. Wanda, was it? Wendy? He grinned at her. “’Sup? They caught you smokin’ in the girls’ bathroom?”

She gave him a disdainful look and tossed her beaded braids. “No. This is about the tests. How did you ever get into the selection process anyway? You don’t know anything and you never do any work.”

“How the hell would you know?” Reno asked, rather stung. “Anyway – what selection process?”

“For the scholarship! Not much chance, even for me. I saw Danny earlier – looked like he’d been crying, so I know he didn’t get it. Don’t know about Leanne.”

“What scholarship?”

Wanda – or Wendy – looked at him and decided he was serious. “What d’you think we’ve been doing all those tests for?”

“Dunno. They said it was to stretch us. Sounded like torture at the time – didn’t realise it would mean boring us to death.”

“Oh my god! Didn’t you even apply?”

“No – they just said I was in this group.” An odd doubt was beginning to creep into Reno’s mind, recalling the phone call he’d half listened in on in that posh-as-all-fuck school upside. “What’s this scholarship?”

“The Shinra Academies on the plate offer a few scholarships every year so that slum kids like us can extend our education past fourteen. It’s worth thousands – and the chance to get a job on the plate afterwards. I can’t believe you didn’t even know! Did you revise?”

“No – I –”

“Wanda – come in please,” interrupted the head’s secretary, appearing at the office door.

Wanda was gone a long time. Reno scuffed the heel of his trainers against the peeling lino floor, feeling duped and angry. What the hell? Even if by some almighty fluke he got a stupid scholarship he wouldn’t be able to take it up. He’d be fifteen in three months, and his mother had already secured him a job in the electronics factory where she worked. Not that he wanted to endure those stifling, noisy, ten-hour shifts – but he had been looking forward to having enough money that some of those cute girls on his block might look at him twice. Anyway – what the hell would he do up on the plate, among those soft kids in their tragic uniforms - their fucking superior attitudes and their easy money? He’d shown he could beat that self-important blond kid who everyone seemed to think was so special. Surely that was enough?

Wanda came dancing out of the office, braids flying, gathered Reno into a hug, and kissed him on the lips. He wasn’t objecting. He could feel her small breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and it was nice. Bit too nice… He stepped back before she felt something she probably wouldn’t appreciate pressed against her -

“Y - you got it, then?” he asked, flustered. Luckily she was much too excited to notice.

“Yes! Yes! I don’t believe it!”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks! Oh my god!” Wanda rushed off to tell her friends her good news, and Reno sighed with relief, both because she hadn’t noticed his state, and because her success was certain to mean his own failure.

“Reno,” said the head, appearing at the door. Her face broke into a broad smile she seemed unable to control. “I have some fantastic news for you!”

The end of the year came and went and Rufus received top marks. Summer holidays were passed with parties he was forced to attend, holidays he was forced to take and blissful moments of free time. Tseng often accompanied him, which was fine since the Turk was a good conversation partner, but more and more Rufus preferred the company of his computer. While Rufus’s father did not appreciate his son’s musical talent, computer skills had obvious applications. Rufus had taken a computer course his second year and had found he not only had a knack for code but a genuine enjoyment. All the better because computer classes weren’t something his father would take away on a whim.

When he wasn’t on his computer, Rufus was at the gym. Rufus wasn’t sure why he continued to train. By the time classes resumed in the fall everyone would have forgotten about the race and it really didn’t matter much to Rufus. All the same, Rufus set a regimen and stuck to it, as if that would somehow make up for the fact he’d been beaten.

Rufus told himself it didn’t matter, even if everyone else seemed to think it did. Rufus told himself he’d never see the kid again, so it was best to forget about it. Rufus almost believed what he told himself.

All Reno’s protests were ignored. The head had been ecstatic – Under Five School 22 had never had a single successful scholarship applicant in its history, and now – two in one year! Once the head had managed to explain the situation to Reno’s mother, and assured her that everything, including meals and uniform, would be funded by the scholarship, she had been more relived than anything - especially when she heard that Reno wouldn’t even have to come home in the school holidays. By the time he graduated, at seventeen, he’d be a legal adult, and off her hands. For the first time he could remember, she’d told Reno she was proud of him, given him an alcohol-tinged kiss, and asked one of the neighbours to take a photo of him in his uniform. Jai had been genuinely pleased for him, but sorry to see him go. “Don’t get like them,” he’d said. “Don’t forget me and Under Five.”

“I won’t,” Reno had promised. “Never.”

Now Reno waited in a wood-panelled corridor in his uncomfortable uniform with its hideous dark red blazer that clashed with his hair, until a teacher appeared to collect him.

“Ah yes – Reno, isn’t it?” said the man – a very tall, slightly stooped figure with a fringe of white hair, who looked more ancient to Reno’s eyes than anyone he could remember seeing in the slums. “I’m Mr. Parsons – Ancient Languages. Do you have much Cetran?”

“Much Cetran what?” Reno asked.

“Do you read Cetran, boy?”

“Uh – no. Does anyone? I thought they were all dead?”

Mr. Parsons sighed wearily. “Well, well, never mind. You’ll get used to us, as I’m sure… we will to you.” Reno thought he’d never seen anyone looking less convinced of anything. “I will be your house master this year. Please, allow me to introduce you to the other boys in your form.”
“And girls,” said Reno quickly. “I mean – I don’t mind meeting girls, yo!”

Mr. Parsons shook his head. “Oh dear, oh dear. Didn’t anyone tell you? This is an all boys’ school. The girls’ academy – our sister establishment – is across the park.”

“Oh,” said Reno. “Right. Figures.” Great. This was just getting better and better. Mr. Parsons opened the door and said, “4B – your new classmate. I trust you’ll make him welcome.”

Reno took a step into the oak-paneled room, and found himself looking straight into the blue eyes of the blond kid he’d beaten in the race.

Chapter Text

Lessons

The blond kid stared at him in shock, as though Reno were a rat that had just scurried out in his path.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and before Reno could respond he continued, "How did you get in?"

Reno's impulse was to punch the superior smirk off the boy's pretty face, but that would only set him up as a thug, which was probably exactly what most of these pupils expected of him. Instead he grinned, and said, "Hey, Blondie. Y'know, I really ain't sure how I got in. Took a bunch of tests, and – here I am. Guess I must've learned more'n I thought, yo! How's the running comin' along?"

Reno kept eye contact with the blond kid until he'd finished speaking, then he looked at the other boys in the class, making eye contact with most of them, but moving on before any of them decided to make it a competition.

There seemed to be thirteen boys in the class, apart from him. He particularly noticed a pair of identical twins, a little freckled boy with a tangle of brown curls and a friendly face, and a tall, dark-eyed boy whose expression was openly hostile.

Reno looked at the blond kid again. Something in his attitude suggested that he was the natural leader of the whole group, and that the others would moderate their behaviour according to his. Reno was curious, and secretly a bit apprehensive, about how the boy would react.

Reno thought he saw a flash of anger in Blondie's blue eyes - the boy's fists clenched like there might be a fight after all - but wouldn't it be satisfying if little Mr. rich boy threw the first punch? Reno braced himself, ready for the blow, but then the boy chuckled and gave a good-natured smile. "Tested in? Tch, well hopefully your Cetran grammar isn't as poor as your Eastern or you won't last long. Try not to flunk out too soon; if you're here long enough for the House games we could have a rematch. Speaking of running, how's it going for you? Learned to outrun dogs yet, Red?"

A tall, dark-haired boy rose from his seat and approached Reno, but he addressed himself to the blond kid as if Reno wasn't even there.

"I doubt you'll get your opportunity to lose again," he sneered. The way he looked at Blondie made it clear they weren't exactly friends either, "we all know he shouldn't have been admitted in the first place, except as a janitor maybe. Not sure though, I don't even think he's good enough to clean my toilet."

Although he was new to the Shinra Academy, Reno had become practised at switching schools as his mother moved around the sector slums looking for work, but he'd never before encountered hostility based purely on his status as an underplater. He itched to attack - he knew he was a good fighter, and was willing to bet that this superior sarcastic bastard wasn't used to getting his hands dirty - but at the same time he didn't want to confirm the boy's prejudices, or to get himself expelled within ten minutes of arriving at the school, so he contented himself with glaring fiercely while he waited to see what Blondie's reply would be.

If Reno was like a Kalm Wolf trying to establish himself in a new pack by challenging the presumed Alpha, then Sinclair was the would-be top dog who couldn't pass off a chance to show his superiority by attacking. Rufus cringed, he hadn't meant for everyone to gang up on the new boy. Honestly, he hadn't meant to start anything. The redhead was the one who'd started it!

Rufus had actually been somewhat pleased to see the boy. It meant that he might get his rematch after all. It was like a dream come true, walking in to find his lost rival waiting for him. All the time he'd spent training over the summer break wouldn't be for nothing.

Maybe asking what he was doing here had been stupid. Rufus knew about the scholarship of course, his own mother had helped establish it and it currently bore her name as a memorial, but that was only for the best students. The boy didn't exactly seem like a scholar; he skipped school and didn't even speak properly.

Rufus was pretty sure the red-head had lied when he said he'd come to the Plate on the train. Unlike the school, Midgar's public transportation system had competent security, or at least that was what Tseng had said when Rufus asked him whether the boy's story could be true. So could a kid who climbed up the Plate just to lie in the sun, and broke into private schools on a whim, really have the self-discipline needed to give up hours of his life to study for a scholarship exam?

Apparently so, from what he'd said - and that meant he was smart. The stunt he'd pulled at the race hadn't been stupidity but daring, and that made him all the more interesting. Unfortunately, it seemed he was also a complete asshole, speaking to Rufus in that completely uncalled for way. What had Rufus ever done to him? Looking in the redhead's eyes, Rufus had seen an intense dislike behind the fake grin. The boy's mocking fake cheerfulness and rubbing Rufus's nose in his defeat was like a middle finger, and Rufus wasn't going to let that stand. He didn't understand why the boy wanted to make an enemy of him, but if that was how he wanted it, then fine.

He'd returned vitriol with vitriol, unwilling to let the boy have the last word. Then Sinclair had to butt in and half the class was laughing. This had gone much further than Rufus had intended. Two students in particular, Victor and Morgan, Sinclair's little henchmen, laughed louder than the rest and made a point of high fiving each other, grinning all the while.

At least not everyone was laughing. A few of the boys looked as uncomfortable about Sinclair ganging up on the new boy as Rufus felt, the Domino twins among them. Sacha was looking to Seb, silently asking if they should speak up.

Rufus had some choice words for Sinclair, but before he could speak up Raphael Grey came to Reno's defense. "At least he earned his way in, unlike some people."

"Like you?" asked Sinclair, "Daddy's boy?"

While it was true Raph wouldn't have been admitted if his father weren't the headmaster, Rufus knew he worked to earn his grades and was well above Sinclair academically.

"Said the Pot to the Kettle," remarked Cassian Vaughn, adjusting his glasses. "We all know your father donated a substantial amount right before you were admitted. How convenient. Now sit down, the teacher's coming." Cass gave Raph a reassuring smile and put a hand on his shoulder.

Sinclair retreated to his spot in between his lackeys. Rufus turned and took a seat in the desk next to Sacha. Of all his classmates, Rufus liked Sacha's group best. The group was composed of Sacha and his twin brother Sebastian, old name and new money Tristan Howard, and Mani Palmer, a none-too-bright friendly sort who, rumour had it, might be Director Palmer's bastard son - but who gave an illegitimate kid their own name and then kept it a secret? While Rufus didn't believe in friendship per se, this group was more tolerable to be around, though he was careful to keep his distance. Getting attached to people would only lead to the trouble.

It was dangerous to care too much. Emotions created vulnerabilities. Rufus was perfectly content not to care about anyone at school. But then... why did he feel so bothered by the new kid?

X

Reno looked for a place to sit and saw a cheery round-faced kid in the back row waving and motioning him over.

"Sorry about Sinclair," he whispered. "Welcome to the Academy. My name's Mani, you're in House Chocobo same as me and I'm glad to have you. Maybe with you on the team we'll have a shot at the House Cup this year."

It was immediately obvious to Reno that Mani was not high in the class pecking order, but he was smarting somewhat from Blondie's attack, and at least this boy seemed friendly. Sliding into the place next to him, Reno leaned one elbow on the back of the uncomfortable wooden seat which seemed to be attached to the desk, and pretended to stretch in a casual fashion, not lowering his voice as he said, "Yeah – cheers. Got any smokes?"

"Oh – uh – no, sorry," stammered the boy, turning rather red. "It's not allowed," he whispered, as a middle-aged, sharp-featured teacher with deep-set, penetrating eyes opened the door and strode to the raised desk at the front of the classroom. Reno raised a disbelieving eyebrow at the boy beside him – since when did 'being allowed' have a bearing on what school pupils actually did? – but the boy was on his feet, along with all the others. Reno glanced behind him, and – yes – even that Sinclair bastard was virtually standing to attention like some kinda frigging soldier on parade.

The teacher cleared his throat in a pointed fashion, and Reno stood up slowly, jamming both hands into the pockets of his unbuttoned blazer.

"Thank you so much for the privilege of your attention," said the teacher with ponderous sarcasm. "I have the misfortune to recognize the rest of these reprobates from the tri-weekly grind of last year's lessons, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your company before."

"You can't expect manners from him, Sir," Sinclair called from the back of the class. "They don't breed it into them under the plate."

Reno turned and glared at Sinclair, who was looking disproportionately pleased with himself.

"Your input will not be necessary, thank you all the same, Sinclair." The teacher turned his attention back to Reno. "You must be Reno Flynn. Mani, he's in your house I believe?"

The boy next to Reno stood up even taller. "Yes, Sir!"

"Good. Well, after class, you may instruct him in our venerable customs – rules, regulations and so on. Mr. Flynn, I seem to recall that your test scores – in my subject at least - were not unpromising. I am Dr. Counts, head of Mathematics, and I am perfectly well acquainted with the coincidental relationship between my name and my subject, so comment on the matter is unnecessary.".

Taking two books from separate piles on a tall bookcase behind him, Dr. Counts placed them on Reno's desk. "One exercise book. Write upon it your name, my name, 4B, Mathematics, and absolutely nothing else. One textbook, not to be defaced. If you have any questions, please raise your hand. Calling out will not be tolerated. Class – be seated. Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four, and endeavour to complete the exercises by the end of the lesson."

Reno sat with the others, and opened his textbook with the others. He had never been in a class like this before – everyone worked in complete silence, while the teacher corrected a set of books belonging to another class at his desk at the front of the room. To Reno's relief the questions made sense to him and weren't as difficult as he'd feared. He kept his head down and worked most of the time, trying not to dwell on Sinclair's stupid comments and the blond kid's aggression. Seemed like Blondie had really minded being beaten in that race. The comment about not being able to outrun dogs niggled Reno the most. He was dying to tell the stuck-up rich kid that he would have escaped no problem if he hadn't had to make that detour to avoid the tree – but he couldn't do that without letting everyone know that someone else had been there, and he'd rather face any amount of taunting than land Jai in danger. Maybe he should've just punched the kid after all?

So – Blondie, Sinclair, Sinclair's two little followers - those were enemies. The tall dark one with the glasses, and his friend the headmaster's son – they seemed okay. Mani was friendly, but could just be desperate for a friend – Reno wasn't sure yet. Not a great start. What had he done to piss off that blond kid so much anyway, apart from beating him in the race? All that stuff about flunking out, and the bullshit about his grammar…

Reno gritted his teeth and focused on maths. The blond kid had already revealed one weakness: he couldn't stand to come second. "Right," Reno thought, making himself concentrate, "let's see what else I can beat you at, Blondie."

Reno looked up, surprised, when the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson. Working in silence made it surprisingly easy to focus on the task at hand. He'd finished the exercises with some time to spare, and there were only a couple of questions he wasn't confident about.

A boy Reno already recognised as one of the twins – slender, dark-haired, rather serious-looking – collected in all the exercise books and placed them on the teacher's desk. Dr. Counts stood, and all the boys followed suit.

"As ever, I await with bated breath the unbounded joy that is marking your work," Dr. Counts sighed, gathering up the books and walking to the door. "Sebastian, if you would be so good?" The twin who had collected the books opened the door for Dr. Counts. As soon as he had gone, Mani sagged in his chair and turned to grin at Reno. "That's over! I bet I got most of them wrong. You finished didn't you? You must be good."

Reno shrugged. "It was okay."

"I suppose you need to be good at numbers in the slums," Sinclair drawled. "How does it go? Rat plus rat plus rat equals… a three course dinner?" Sinclair's friends chortled, and Reno smiled, getting to his feet and stepping away from the desk. He'd been itching to hit someone ever since Blondie had demanded to know in that imperious voice how someone like him had ever managed to get into a school like this, and Sinclair was just plain begging for it now. Reno was already sick of this school, its sarcastic staff and stuck-up students. No education was worth this shit. They wanted slum – they'd get slum.

"Yeah?" Reno snarled, flexing his fingers, before clenching both hands into fists. "C'mon then, fucker. You been up in my face since I got here, so c'mon. What the fuck are you waitin' for?"

Reno took a step forward and Sinclair blinked. Reno saw a flash of fear in his blue eyes, before he turned to one of his followers - a bored-looking boy with longish light brown hair – and said, "barbari eruperant, don't you think, Morgan?"

Morgan laughed, along with one or two of the others.

"You're all barbarians, as far as I'm concerned," said a voice behind Reno. "And since it's my unfortunate duty to attempt to civilize you, I would appreciate it if we could get on with the lesson." The boys instantly got to their feet. Reno turned, and saw Mr. Parsons – the Ancient languages teacher who had introduced himself as Reno's house master, whatever that was – standing at the desk.

Reno considered ignoring him and punching Sinclair anyway, but the distraction gave him time to consider, and he decided against it. Sinclair would keep.

Mr. Parsons handed him a small, brightly coloured book, and said, "Reno, this class won't make a lot of sense to you, I'm afraid, since you've never studied Cetran. Read this, and see what you make of it. The rest of you, chapter twelve in your primers, if you would be so good. We'll start with a little basic revision, since I know how Cetran has an unfortunate habit of draining out of your tiny minds in the summer holidays, like water through a sieve."

Reno flicked through the book, which was obviously intended for children of about six. It seemed to be about some boring dude in a long dress who had a vast number of rooms in his house and seemed determined to tell Reno about all of them in Cetran. Since Reno had never lived anywhere that had more than three rooms altogether, he didn't even know what most of them would be called in Eastern, never mind Cetran.

Not for the first time that day, Reno wondered what the hell he was doing in this school. It was obvious that most of the students hated him, and he felt the same about them. But what was the alternative? If he got himself expelled and ended up in the Shinra-run factory below the plate he'd be earning little more than a living wage. The phones and computers made in the factory would end up being sold to rich kids like the ones in this classroom, who would never give a thought to the underplaters who'd made them. Jai had started at the factory the day after his fifteenth birthday, and Reno would be fifteen in two weeks. But he couldn't back down when boys like Blondie and Sinclair challenged him. If he didn't have his pride, what did he have?

When he'd read through the book three times, he put up his hand.

"Yes, Reno?" Parsons asked.

"Read it."

"Excellent. Speaking Cetran already. 'Reddit' – any one? Cassian?"

"Renders," said Cassian. "Or, it brings back, or gives up."

"Yes, indeed. I'm glad to see you haven't all forgotten everything over the summer." Parsons put another book on Reno's desk. This time the same guy in a dress wanted to introduce Reno to every single member of his family, including the servants and the dog. Reno bit his fingernails and stared up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. He really wanted a smoke. If he'd ever been more bored he couldn't remember when. There weren't even any girls to look at. He perked up for a moment when one of the boys said something about ammo, but it turned out to be some Cetran word that had nothing to do with anything interesting.

The next thing he knew was Mani nudging him awake, as the boys stood for the end of the lesson. When Mr. Parsons had gone, Mani said, "Good job you don't snore!"

"Thanks," Reno said. "Is it always this boring?"

"Cetran is," Mani nodded. "I failed it last year. It's break now – I'll show you the tuck shop and the dorms."

Reno looked around to check what Sinclair was up to, but he and his two flunkies had already gone. "Okay," he said to Mani. "Thanks."

"Wait up - I'm coming, too," called Sebastian. Reno was a little alarmed when the other twin and Blondie followed them out of the classroom and into the corridor.

X

Rufus watched Reno go, torn between the temptation to walk away and do his best to ignore the newcomer's existence and a desire to say something about what had almost happened before Cetran class. Sinclair just couldn't help mouthing off again. Rufus had shot a glare at Sinclair's friends; it wasn't funny, it was unprovoked and not the least bit witty. Rufus had actually grinned when Reno issued his challenge and fear crept into Sinclair's eyes. A little fear was just what Sinclair needed and a broken nose wouldn't come amiss either.

But then Reno would get in trouble, and Sinclair would go crying to his father demanding Reno be expelled. Rufus couldn't have that; he needed Reno around so he could beat him! Rufus had gotten to his feet, about to issue his own challenge. He'd be glad to punch Sinclair himself, and he'd like to see Sinclair's useless blue blood old man try to complain to the school or President Shinra. If anything, Sinclair's dad would probably order Sinclair to come groveling with an apology for provoking Rufus.

It hadn't come to that, thanks to Mr. Parsons timely arrival, but Rufus knew Sinclair wasn't likely to let up on Reno. Next time it threatened to come to blows a teacher might not be there to stop it and Rufus might not be there to step in on Reno's behalf.

Rufus followed Reno, not hurrying to catch up, just casually going in the same direction. He wasn't exactly going out of his way to warn Reno. No, he wouldn't lie to himself, he was willing to go out of his way for the boy. A boy whom he should be glad to see expelled given how much trouble he'd caused from the start.

First the race, then mouthing off this morning. Rufus had been so annoyed about that he could barely focus during Maths because all he could think about was what had just happened. Rufus really should have been the one to tell off Sinclair. After all, it wasn't that Rufus disliked the redhead per se, and what Sinclair had done was uncalled for and rude. Of course, Rufus himself hadn't exactly been friendly, but redhead had mocked him first. Really what was his problem?

Rufus had been so preoccupied that he barely had time to finish the last question before the bell rang! Maths usually came so easily to Rufus. Some things were as natural as breathing; music had been, and now computers; Rufus knew he should have easily finished the problems with time to spare to look over them. As it was he doubted he'd done well. Why was that boy so distracting?

Even worse, Mr. Counts mentioned Reno was good at Maths, so now he'd let the boy beat him at something else! Well not again. From this moment on he was stepping up his game. However, he couldn't win if Reno was expelled for fighting. No, Rufus had make sure Reno survived at this school long enough to suffer a humiliating defeat!

Right then, thought Rufus, might as well attempt civility and a word of advice lest he lose his new rival. "Hey, Red," he said when he caught the boy glancing at him. "If I were you I'd do my best to ignore Sinclair. He's not worth it. He's just trying to get a rise out of you, and I don't want him to get what he wants. I also need you to be here long enough for a rematch, so please don't get expelled," he said, completely sincere and maybe a little charming. The redhead wouldn't hold a grudge over a little teasing, would he? They could be sportsmanlike about this, couldn't they?

Behind him Rufus heard Sinclair snicker. "Awe, so you two are in love! How sweet!"

Rufus turned to face him. "Sinclair, glad you're still here, I had hoped I'd get the chance to tell you, you really should stop attempting to be witty. You lack the requisite capacity and it's so pathetic it's almost painful."

There were laughs, including a chuckle from Sinclair's own lackeys until he silenced them with a glare. He then stepped closer to Rufus. "You have a lot of nerve," he said.

"Probably more than you," said Rufus. "If you want to fight me, then fine, but I'll probably win and you know perfectly well they won't expel me because I actually matter." Unlike Sinclair, who just wished he were half as important.

Sinclair backed down for the moment and Rufus turned to leave. He didn't want to stay with the others for too long. He wasn't part of any group and he didn't have friends. What he did have was a computer in his dorm room that might allow him to find out more about this Reno Flynn. Knowing the competition would be a good strategy. This was fun.

Chapter Text

Reno didn't understand what Blondie was playing at. The boy's tone had suddenly become friendly and he seemed to be trying to give Reno advice on how to deal with Sinclair. Crap advice, in Reno's considered opinion – who the hell ever beat an asshole like Sinclair by ignoring him? – but, still, the intention seemed genuine, as far as Reno could make out. Seemed like Blondie was just desperate for a rematch of that race. Yeah – good luck with that. Reno hadn't yet met a kid who could beat him at running – or an adult either, fortunately. He was about to tell Blondie as much, when Sinclair – who, Reno thought with satisfaction, must have been avoiding him, since he'd made himself scarce pretty damn quick at the end of class - weighed in again with some totally lame comment, and, to Reno's surprise, Blondie called him out on it. When Sinclair actually backed down, Reno looked at the blond kid with new respect. His first assessment had been right – Blondie had some sort of clout within the group, but Reno couldn't put his finger on why, exactly. He watched the boy walk away, puzzled. Weird kid. Maybe he'd ask Mani about him later, but for now he didn't want to give any of the students the impression he gave a shit about any of them.

Reno followed Mani, Sebastian and his twin along the corridor to a small, crowded room where a couple of older boys were selling a whole variety of drinks and candy from a desk. Reno had never seen so many kinds of candy except in the windows of shops on the plate, and on those excursions his targets had been sports shops and electronics dealers. No point wasting time stealing low-value stuff like candy.

"Tuck shop's open every break time and after lunch," explained Mani, who clearly made good use of the facility. "It's a good idea to stock up at the start of the week – the best stuff goes fast."

"Yeah – I'm not really hungry," lied Reno, who had not so much as one gil to his name. The scholarship covered tuition, accommodation, food and school uniform. It didn't seem to have occurred to anyone that a student might need money for anything else. It would be easy enough to swipe something, but thinking about the factory had made Reno realize that he really didn't want to be expelled – and he knew that theft would not be tolerated. Funny how the richer people were, the more they seemed to begrudge losing so much as a gil.

Mani looked at Reno as though he were insane. "Really? Not hungry? No wonder you're so skinny!" He patted his own rather round stomach ruefully. "I'm always hungry!"

Sebastian glanced at Reno. "I'm not really hungry either," he said. "Why don't we show Reno the dorm and the common room, and come back here at lunch? It's so crowded, we'll be here all break."

Mani sighed. "Okay. This way!"

"Sacha and I are both in Griffin House," Sebastian said to Reno as they followed Mani to the end of the corridor, through a pointed archway out into a small courtyard, through a narrow oak door and up a flight of stone stairs. "We're just opposite you, across the quad. Zolom is on the north side, and Tonberry to the south, over the refectory – that's the dining hall. Oh – I'm Seb, by the way. Only teachers call me Sebastian."

"And Dad," added the other twin, more to Seb than Reno.

"Yeah," Seb agreed. "Dad hates me being Seb – but not as much as he hates Sacha being Sacha. He says, 'We called you Alexander, and that's what you'll always be to me'. Ah – here we are."

"Welcome to the Chocobo dorms," said Mani cheerfully, holding open the door for Reno. "It's three or four to a room. You'd better come in with me, Raf and Asher – the only other free space is in Sinclair's dorm – he shares with his cousin Lucas in the fifth year."

"Okay, thanks," said Reno, glad that at least he wouldn't have to sleep in the same room as Sinclair. A long, dim corridor ran the length of the wing, with six white-painted doors on each side, and one at the end. The only illumination came from two skylights in the ceiling.

"Bathrooms here and here," said Mani, indicating the first two doors. "We're at the end, by the common room – last on the left."

The bedroom turned out to be light, if small. On either side of a square dormer window stood metal-framed bunk beds, two small desks were crowded side-by-side under the window and two more desks were tucked into a corner under the sloping roof. The remaining wall space was taken up by a variety of mismatched drawers, closets and bookcases.

"Hope you don't mind the top bunk," Mani said, pointing to the bed above his own. "I'm not good with ladders. Those drawers are empty – and that closet, and the desk in the corner there, next to Asher's. Asher's nice – everyone likes him. He's a third year, so you probably won't meet him until after dinner. Where did they put your stuff?"

"They said it would be in the common room."

"Right next door, at the end of the corridor," said Mani. "I'll show you."

The Chocobo common room was a large, bright room with a huge fireplace, windows on two sides, and a variety of couches and chairs. In an alcove was a new-looking television set. Mani glanced around the room. "They can't have brought it up yet," he said to Reno, who was staring at the TV, impressed.

Reno shook his head. "No – it's over there." He went to a window seat and picked up a battered black hold-all.

"Where's the rest of – ow!" Mani squawked as Seb elbowed him in the ribs.

"I travel light," said Reno, affecting nonchalance. He took the bag back to the bedroom and slung it onto the bunk above Mani's. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but the idea of sleeping in a real bed was exciting. He'd always slept on the couch in the many tiny apartments he'd shared with his mom and her various 'friends' as they moved around the sector slums throughout his childhood.

"We'd better get back to class," said Seb. "The bell will be going in a minute, and you know what old Varley is like about punctuality. History first, then lunch, then double Lit before dinner."

x

After leaving Reno and the others, Rufus headed straight to his room. Break wouldn't last too long, but there might be time to get a little work done. As the rest of the school wasted their time with snacks and catching up from the summer, Rufus sat alone in his room, gaze fixed on his computer.

He was confident in his budding abilities as a hacker and sure he could find out anything he wanted. However, he was also certain he didn't want to be late for History class. If this was going to be the first year he'd have real competition then his record needed to be unblemished. Hacking into Reno's underplate academic record would have to wait for later, when he had more time.

If he bothered, Rufus didn't like the thought that this boy interested him so much. After all why should Reno matter? Sure, he was fascinating. The way he didn't care about anything and did whatever he pleased. Despite being born into the most powerful family on the planet, Rufus had never been free. Reno was more liberated than anyone Rufus had seen. Everyone in his life, all his classmates, were so keenly aware of their place and the rules they had to play by and were always mindful of them.

Even rebels like Cass knew the rules and purposefully ignored them. Reno, on the other hand, seemed to not give a fuck about any of it. He did what he wanted because he wanted to regardless of the consequences. Besides, it was easy for someone like Cass to flout the rules; Cass really wasn't a rebel so much as above it all. Cassian was a descendant of the old aristocracy; unlike Rufus he had no company to inherit and his family name came with no responsibility other than to live a life befitting someone of wealth and taste. Cass could do as he pleased because his position and money made him unassailable. Reno had nothing to protect him and everything to lose, and yet he was free.

Rufus found his mind going over everything he could learn about Reno and how he'd learn it. One part of him enjoyed this because it was sort of thinking like a Turk. (Of course, Rufus knew that he shouldn't play at being anything, especially servants. Even if there were times he wished he could have been one of them instead of - no, he was Rufus Shinra and would want nothing less than his birthright.) Another part of him realized that searching for Reno's records in order to find some dirt on him would be verging on creepy.

It wasn't that he wanted personal information about Reno, more that he didn't understand him and wanted to solve this, figure him out. However, he didn't need to understand Reno to beat him, he only needed strategically relevant information. Strengths and weaknesses Wasn't it lucky Reno had just taken an assessment test? Rufus had already figured out how to access his own school's confidential records, so getting back in while on break was simple enough.

To Rufus's surprise, Reno's test scores were fairly…normal. Above average, of course, his math score was nearly perfect, but his reading scores weren't great (Reno seemed to do well on reading comprehension and analysis but terrible on vocabulary, probably because he'd never taken Cetran so he couldn't puzzle out the roots, and most of the words on these sorts of tests wouldn't be used day to day. He probably thought blandish meant something sort of bland - and who knew what he'd make of a word like fallacious?). The average reading scores made his overall score above average but nowhere near top. He was good enough to be admitted to the school, but probably not good enough to be chosen over more qualified candidates. Of course, the scholarship considered other factors, but Reno said he didn't know how he got in, just took a test, so it was possible he'd never penned a personal statement or even applied. What made Reno so special?

Rufus could think of only one thing:

Running.

Midgar Shinra Academy had never won any of the multi-school competitions and as a consequence didn't have a very good reputation in terms of sports. Honestly, it wasn't that surprising, considering Midgar Academy catered to the richest of the rich and made allowances for the students to do what they wanted, such as an option to opt out of PE and take private, student-provided courses, instead, which could be anything from yoga with a personal trainer to interpretive dance. Of course, there were sports teams and clubs, but chocobo polo wasn't a part of the All Academy Tournament.

The Headmaster had seen Reno running and sensed an opportunity. Reno was a weapon the head needed for his arsenal. Rufus wondered how Reno would feel about that. Maybe Rufus didn't need to beat Reno at running to win; maybe he just needed to convince him he wasn't the Headmaster's race bird.

If Reno didn't run again, Rufus would be the fastest in the school, and a win was still a win even by non-traditional means. In fact, winning by using his own strengths rather than trying to outmatch his opponent was far cleverer than beating Reno on the field While it was true that convincing Reno not to run would hurt the school's chances in the games, the school's athletic standing wasn't Rufus's concern. Forget school spirit, Rufus Shinra was loyal to his own ends.

Except, beating Reno at running fair and square would be more satisfying. Winning by default was hardly sportsmanly. If what he wanted was Reno gone, well he could talk to father about having him expelled – not that he'd ever do that. No, Rufus didn't like using his father's position and besides there was no need to ruin Reno's life over a race. He just wanted to beat him. Had to beat him.

Rufus had trained all summer, so maybe he could trounce him on the field. He'd see how he did in gym class against Reno. If winning directly didn't seem possible he'd let his information slip to Reno. Winning by default wouldn't be as sweet, but it was still a win.

It was amazing the comfort that having a plan of action could bring.

When Rufus returned to class he found himself easily caught up in the history lesson. It was a very ironic lesson. It was obvious the intent was to convince the students that Wutai was an evil imperialistic threat that had done terrible things in the past so of course Shinra was doing everyone a favor by waging this long, pointless conflict that cost more than it was worth. Seriously, the potential profit from a reactor in Wutai wouldn't equal the cost of waging this war; the entire thing was a massive waste. Although Rufus understood the reactor wasn't really the point. The point was his father wanted to show Godo that his dick was bigger.

Not that Rufus didn't understand the benefit of displays of power. If people feared Shinra then they'd stay in line, but the war didn't exactly make Shinra look good. It had been waging since Rufus was ten years old, and three years later and it didn't look like it would be over anytime soon. And the ironic thing about the lesson was, as much as the professor strove to paint Wutai as evil, all the things he described, imperialism, a sense of superiority, brutality, fit Shinra to a T.

Not that Rufus would say anything. Publically criticizing his father wouldn't get him anywhere. He sometimes wished he had someone to talk to about how he really felt about things, but who could he trust? There was Tseng, though he could never forget that Tseng was a Turk, and thus not completely trustworthy. Anyone who worked for his father would never be entirely trusted because they couldn't be wholly on his side.

Besides, Rufus couldn't exactly talk to Tseng about Wutai. Tseng might think Rufus was bringing it up because he was Wutaian, which couldn't be further from the truth. Rufus had never really seen Tseng as Wutaian. He realized he was Wutaian, obviously, the sheen of his dark hair that looked touchable soft, how warm his skin looked, his sharp narrow eyes so dark yet inviting. It was just that to Rufus, Tseng had always been an individual, the big kid who looked after him, the young man who always willing to talk and actually listen to what Rufus had to say. Words that truly described Tseng, words that made up the essence of who Tseng was to Rufus, had nothing to do with his heritage. Tseng wasn't Wutaian, for that label conveyed nothing essential; Tseng was a playmate, baby sitter, mentor, protector, teacher, constant, beautiful.

Rufus stopped himself and pushed the thought as far down as he could and tried to focus on his lesson. He shouldn't think of Tseng as beautiful. He shouldn't think of Tseng at all, or at least not nearly as often as he did. But at the same time, it seemed safer to think about Tseng because nothing could ever happen with Tseng. Tseng was like a teacher or a celebrity, much too old for anything real to happen. Unlike boys his age, who could happen. Sacha would jump at the chance - unless Rufus had misread him, and his adoration was really just a fan-like recognition of Rufus's musical ability. But he'd thought he'd seen Sacha look his way.

It was easier to not act on things he could never afford to act on when he knew there was no chance of it happening. All the same, Rufus still knew it was wrong to think about Tseng that way - or any boy. So he tried to push away his feelings (because he couldn't exactly push Tseng out of his life and really didn't want to), and stay away from Sacha (as much as he could without being needless rude or overly conspicuous. He did like Sacha all right as a person, after all).

x

At his underplate schools, Reno's experience of History had largely been a series of dreary accounts of the rise of the Shinra Electric Power Company, with new, yawn-inducing details added each year. Mr. Varley's class proved a bit more interesting, being a gruesome account of some of the most important battles between the Wutai Empire and the oppressed peoples of the Western Continent three hundred years ago. It was quickly apparent that the class's sympathies were supposed to lie with the Westerners.

As soon as the History lesson was over, Reno went willingly with Mani and the twins to the refectory for lunch, relieved that Sinclair and Blondie had both kept low profiles and made no further comments during the lesson. In the refectory – a long, oak-beamed hall - Reno wolfed down a plate of something hot and good that seemed to be mostly cheese. His hunger satisfied, he became aware of another craving which intensified as the lunch break went on. What he really needed was a cigarette. Deprivation was making him jittery, and he felt vaguely shocked by how strongly the need was affecting him; he smoked a lot less than many of the kids in his old school. Whatever Mani had said, he couldn't believe that every one of these rich boys stuck to the school rules. He had to find a smoke soon, while avoiding Sinclair, and trying to think of a way of getting hold of a few gil without doing anything that would result in being expelled.

Sinclair had mentioned janitors – maybe one of them would give him a cigarette, or have an idea about how he could make some money? Someone had brought his bag up to the common room – there must be staff in the kitchens – there had been that Matron woman on the day he'd been caught by that monster of a dog. Reno had no objection to hard work, but he very much minded the idea that everyone would look down on him when they found out that he had no money at all. If he could find some kind of a job, and keep it secret from the other students, he thought he might manage to make his time at the Academy bearable. He had no chance to do anything about his longing for a cigarette during lunch, however, and the idea of sitting through two hours of Literature with nothing to take the edge off his craving made him feel almost desperate.

x

When lunch came Rufus wondered if now would be a good time to stop sitting next to Sacha lest he get too close. He usually ate lunch on his own. On the other hand, lunch would be an opportunity to sit next to Reno, just in case he ever had to talk him out of racing. Currently, Reno saw him as an aggressor and would see through any attempt to talk him out of competing.

If Rufus ever decided talk Reno out of racing he would have to make it seem like it was just friendly concern, and to do that Rufus would have to convince Reno that…they were friends. That meant actively trying to make friends with Reno and pretending they were friends long enough for Reno to trust him. Although severing the relationship as soon as Reno quit running wouldn't work because then Reno would suspect Rufus' act and go back to running to spite him. So he'd have to wait for an excuse to not be friends anymore or just go on pretending. Well, being friends with Reno did seem like the sort of thing that would annoy his father and Sinclair, so that was a plus and there was no danger in being friends when it was only pretending to care.

All the same, he'd take some time to consider his options. Getting close to someone, even just pretending to, could be dangerous and wasn't like he generally had time for that sort of thing. Rufus took a seat on his own and weighed his options.

x

Reno really couldn't bring himself to care about the Literature lesson – he needed nicotine too badly to focus on more than the most basic plot of the play a cheerful teacher called Professor Matthews was waffling on about so enthusiastically. By the end of the lesson he was past caring to even pretend to be polite to Mani and the other boys. When Seb said cheerfully, "Refectory's this way, Reno," Reno only waved a hand at him and said, "Yeah - yeah, thanks, I'll pass. Not hungry -"

Mani stared after him, as Reno vanished along the main corridor in the opposite direction from the dining hall. "I thought people didn't have much food in the slums!" he said to Seb. "Doesn't he ever eat?"

Working on the premise that all schools – even one with as many rules as the Academy – must have at least a small group of secret smokers, Reno headed for the kinds of places they tended to gather, following every quiet corridor, peeking into cupboards, following any staircase that led down. When he found a dusty corridor containing brooms and vacuum cleaners, he knew he was on the right track. At the end of the corridor a metal door opened creakily onto a dimly lit cellar with a set of concrete steps leading down into the darkness. A low hum and a set of copper pipes descending from the ceiling told Reno that this was the kind of place he was looking for: a Mako generator, or a boiler room at the heart of the school's water and heating systems. At best he would discover the smokers, but in any case he might find clues that they existed. Hell, at this point he wasn't past scavenging old butts. He closed the door quietly behind him and descended the stairs, wondering whether anyone would believe that he got lost on the way to the bathroom, should he be discovered.

Suddenly, Reno became certain that he was being followed.

Chapter Text

Reno walked on slowly, all of his senses on alert. There was no sound, but he felt the presence of another person close by. Stooping to pretend to look at something on the ground, Reno glanced behind him and saw – nothing. He was about to move on when there was a bright flash in his peripheral vision and he found himself under attack from above. Instinctively Reno jabbed his elbow backwards as hard as he could, hitting a solid object that sent shockwaves of pain up his arm. "Ow, fuck!" Reno cried, holding his injured arm, and spinning to face his attacker, who lay sprawled on the ground, clasping something to his chest, groaning softly.

"Blondie?" Reno asked, but as soon as he said it he knew he was wrong. The attacker got to his knees, then his feet, and Reno waited for him to stand up, before realizing that he was standing up, and that the person he'd hit was a younger, much smaller kid with wide, slightly dazed eyes, and a mop of bright golden curls. He appeared to be holding some kind of backpack - or, now Reno looked more closely, wearing it – but wearing it back to front, so that, luckily for him, it had protected his chest.

"What the hell?" Reno shouted. "What are you doing jumpin' me like that? I coulda friggin' killed you!" He calmed down a little as the kid shook his head, still trying to catch his breath after Reno's blow. "What the hell you got in that thing, anyhow?" asked Reno, realizing that the kid didn't seem to be about to attack again. "That hurt, yo!

The kid winced, and Reno thought it was at the yelling rather than because he was in any pain. He was lucky he'd been wearing that backpack; Reno had once broken another boy's ribs in a fight. But this kid was looking at him now without any anger.

"Sorry!" the kid said, looking down a moment. He absentmindedly kicked at the ground with his shoe. He blushed when he looked up and answered. "Nunchucks? Heh." He unzipped his bag and pulled out a pair of wooden nunchaku slotted with a single Materia. The bag also contained what looked to be a pair of foam training nunchakus, a book in Wutaian with a drawing of a ninja on the cover, a water bottle, various sweets and a very worn looking stuffed moogle.

Suddenly the boy's eyes lit up and he grinned. "I can take care of your arm!" he said. "Oh my gosh, this will be great practice!" He took the nunchucks out of the bag and stepped back into a fighting stance. Reno was about to protest - what the hell did the kid think he was doing messing around with dangerous shit like materia? - but before he could react, the materia let off a faint glow and the energy transferred to Reno.

"I guess I shouldn't really be doing this," the boy said, smiling. "Technically school rules say we can't use materia outside authorized training. But it's not as though this is offensive materia; it's just a Cure." The kid swayed slightly, and sat down, sighing. He blinked at Reno, looking dazed, then put his nunchucks away and took out his water bottle. After a sip of water he revived a little. "Feel better?" he asked Reno. "Man, I need to work on my MP."

Reno had never been cured by materia before, and the experience left him feeling weirdly off-balance and yet uncharacteristically serene. The pain in his elbow vanished, and along with it went every trace of his nicotine craving. In fact he felt really, really good. "Yeah," he said, trying to suppress a foolish grin that kept threatening to emerge. "Yeah - I feel great! What's MP?"

"Materia Practice - so you can use this stuff without draining all your energy. Not sure how it works exactly, I guess people have energy, sort of like lights, and casting plugs in the materia to your body's wireless energy, or something. I'm really not that good with science. But it worked right? Are you still feeling alright?"

"Yeah," Reno nodded. "Fine."

"Good," the kid chirped, "and sorry about scaring you. I wasn't trying to jump on you or anything, just following you. I had been up there," he pointed to the ceiling, "that's why I was wearing this backwards." He took off his backpack, removed the book and put it back on so it was actually on his back. He flipped open to a bookmarked page and showed the older boy a picture of a ninja with his back to the ceiling, hands and feet spread out against the surrounding walls to hold himself up. "It was sort of hard to do with a bag, but I thought the extra weight might be good training, you know? Anyway, sorry for spying and following you. When you walked underneath me I was sort of curious about what you were doing. What were you doing, anyway? And I…also sort of wanted to see how long it would take you to notice me. I want to practice being super stealthy like a Turk!" He jumped in the air, with excitement, before laughing a bit. "You really saw me coming though," said the kid, "and great defensive move by the way? What style is it? What did you train in? Could you teach me?"

Reno forced a scowl. This kid was way too happy about his brush with death – or at least serious injury. And yet somehow Reno couldn't help but smile again when the boy started talking about being 'super stealthy like a Turk' and asking about his combat style, actually bouncing on the spot.

"Well," said Reno, sticking his hands in his pockets and trying to look as though exploring the school's heating system was a perfectly normal thing to be doing, "I jus' thought I'd check out the whole place, y'know?" He lowered his voice and glanced around with a pseudo significant lift of his eyebrows. "Never underestimate the importance of recon." When the kid nodded sagely, Reno added, "An' as for my style – well – I guess I could teach you – but I'd have to charge."

He couldn't believe it when the kid actually looked as though he was about to agree. Much as he needed money, taking it off this kid would be like fleecing Jai – or, more realistically, Jai's six-year-old brother. And the boy had cured him, after all.

"Nah – just messin' with you," Reno confessed. "It ain't any style. Just how I fight, yo. And I was down here lookin' for smokes, but I don't feel like one any more. I'm Reno. So – who're you, Nunchaku? Aside from the Turks' next recruit, yo?"

The boy grinned at Reno's comment. "I'm Asher, form 2B, House Chocobo." He offered Reno his hand. "We should probably get going since we're not supposed to be back here." He turned in the direction of the door and motioned for Reno to follow. "If you're looking for a place to smoke one of the faculty lounges allows smoking, but sneaking in there would be breaking school rules. Well so is being back here and smoking, I guess. If you did want to sneak in I could show you how to get there through the air ducts. Know your surroundings, right?"

Reno laughed. "You spend your spare time crawling about in the air vents?

Asher looked a little embarrassed. "Um - only sometimes. Sounds a bit weird when you put it like that. I just thought it might be useful. Recon, like you said."

"Yeah," Reno replied. "Guess that could be useful. Never hurts to have alternative routes. Okay kid, lead the way!"

As they made their way towards the door Asher asked, "You're House Chocobo too, aren't you - you're wearing our tie. Wicked! You're the new scholarship student, right? The one who beat Rufus in the race? The whole school's talking about you being here, you know? After you beat Rufus that was all anyone talked about for months. I almost felt sorry for him, everyone going on about him being beaten. Everyone was curious about you, and now you're a student here! I bet you'll be super popular."

"So," Reno asked, "Blondie - uh, that's Rufus, right? - got some stick for that, huh? That explains why he wasn't exactly pleased to see me…"

Asher, though, was continuing to talk nineteen to the dozen. "Oh I wouldn't mind Rufus, he doesn't like anyone. Hey you know, even if you don't have a formal fighting technique, I'd still like to learn from you," he said, with a bright smile, looking back over his shoulder. "You think you could teach me to be a better fighter? Oh and you should join martial arts club, if you want to learn some more formal styles. I have a private teacher but it seems silly to pay him to come all the way out here just to work with me so I've been trying to get other students interested in joining. Although if you worked with me you'd miss general PE and that might be more fun for you. You get to do a bunch of different sports that way, and you'll probably be busy with track. You are joining the track team, right?"

Reno wasn't at all sure that he wanted to join anything. He felt rather as if he'd been picked up and deposited in an alien landscape; all his bearings were gone. But he wasn't about to admit that to anyone, let alone a kid who was younger than him and who carried a stuffed moogle in his backpack, so he contented himself with a shrug. The idea of doing sports as part of the school timetable seemed very odd to Reno, but he certainly wasn't about to complain. Under the plate the main purpose of education was to turn out people fitted for the factories, with the emphasis being on basic literacy, Maths, and practical subjects like electronics and engineering. The only physical part of the curriculum was a bi-weekly hour of repetitive exercises, in the small assembly hall. Sport was something you were expected to do in your own time – if you cared. The idea of learning martial arts appealed to Reno – but so did spending time running.

They reached the door leading back towards the halls. Asher opened it just a tiny bit to check if the coast was clear and then motioned for Reno to follow as the slid back into the main hallways. "I hope you're not too busy. If you need any help with classes just let me know. I'm not so good with math and science, but I'm great with Cetran, everyone in my village grows up around ancient ruins so we learn Cetran really young. Lots of archeology back home."

"Thanks," Reno said. Wary as he was, he couldn't help responding to Asher's boundless enthusiasm. "Cetran might be useful. Even though you're two forms lower, you must be way ahead of me. And if you needed any help with math - I'm okay at that, I guess."

"Ok? You're a scholarship student! You must be a genius!" said Asher. "Since we're in the same House, maybe you could tutor me after classes or on weekends? I can't go home on weekends since I'm not from around here so I'm pretty much free.

Reno hadn't expected to be taken up on his offer quite so promptly, but he couldn't see any harm in helping Asher out. "Okay," he said. "I'm not goin' anywhere at weekends, that's for sure."

"Perfect!" said Asher, "You're a lifesaver. I barely got an A last semester, and only because I did extra credit in math and science. Seriously, I had to scrub beakers and pin dead things to boards; it was awful. But I really need to have straight As! After I graduate I'm sending the Turks my resume so it has to be perfect. I bet they're super selective and I won't stand out if my grades aren't the best. That's why I work so hard."

"Seriously?" Reno asked. "You think the Turks take resumes?"

"How else would they hire people?" asked Asher. "There has to be an application process right?"

"I guess I always thought it was more… kind of - I don't know. Performance related? Like, 'we need that guy wasted - go waste that guy'. That's the reputation they have underside, anyhow."

"Well how would they know to ask you to waste that guy if you haven't applied?" asked Asher.

Reno shrugged. "Never thought about it. Don't they just scout for people who can do that stuff, and recruit them if they're good? I heard rumours that you have to kill someone before they'll recruit you."

"Well," Asher stopped walking, putting a hand under his chin as he thought. His face had gone from happy to troubled. "I guess that makes sense. Then what should I do? I mean there's more to being a Turk than killing, isn't there? SOLDIER has standards and they probably do more killing than Turks. Turks are spies. But...oh now I'm not sure what to do. I'm in school, so it's not like I can do anything to get their attention. I can't just find bad guys to kill...I mean, I don't want to kill anyone anyway unless I had to...Turks kill when they have to, like SOLDIER right?"

"I guess. But with SOLDIER it's killing in wars. Not the same as taking someone out on the quiet. But you could always practise in school. There's Sinclair, for one. I wouldn't miss him."

"You shouldn't joke like that," said Asher. "You could be expelled for that. You don't mean it, right?"

"Yeah, dead serious," said Reno, until he saw Asher's face. "Hey - lighten up, kid! What - you can be expelled for joking?"

"They take security really seriously," said Asher. "After you broke in to race, Rufus's father made the head fire the entire staff and replaced them with armed guards. Guns and EMRs, though they have to use non-lethal force first and we're supposed to report anything suspicious. Zero tolerance."

Reno stared at him. "You're fuckin' kidding?"

"Didn't your school care about your safety?" asked Asher.

"Yeah - but schools are safe. It's out on the streets you have to be careful. So - what happened to the staff who got fired?" Reno felt a bit guilty about that. He thought the guy who'd set the dog on him deserved his fate, but what about the ones who hadn't even been present at the time? The whole thing sounded like overkill. Who the hell did this Rufus' father think he was, throwing his weight about like that?

Asher shrugged. "I don't know, I guess they got new jobs somewhere else? I don't know all the details. Wish I did, it was sort of cool. Everyone was investigated and reviewed. I mean, I guess it wasn't cool for them but you have to admit things weren't very safe if anyone could have just broken in. What if instead of you slipping in it had been someone with a gun? Rufus would have been killed before security even showed up."

Reno shook his head. "Who the hell would want to kill Rufus?"

"Bad people," said Asher, "Even if he hasn't done anything, it wouldn't matter to some people. Who knows why?" Asher shrugged. "I don't understand why anyone hurts anyone else. That's why I want to be a Turk. To fight bad guys and make the world safer. Well, not just because of that, but that's part of it. I don't know what I can do to be recruited though, but it wouldn't hurt to try an application first right? If that doesn't work then I'll...I don't know, travel and do jobs that might get their attention. Like fight crime or something."

Reno couldn't help laughing at that. "Sounds like the world above the plate is a whole lot more dangerous than underneath! Still - good to have a goal, I guess?"

"Yup," said Asher, "and a plan. First step, straight As. So how many hours a week are you available to tutor and how much do you think is fair?"

"What - you mean you're really gonna pay? Like I was a teacher or some shit?" Reno asked, incredulous. He still felt bad about actually charging a kid Asher's age for lessons, but he also really needed money.

"Well yeah," said Asher, "I have a private tutor last year from the University but she graduated - got a job with Shinra. Mom was going to post ads for a new tutor, but it would be easier to just work with you since you live here. My old tutor got 50 an hour, but since you're not in Uni maybe 25 or 30? I'll have to talk to her about it."

"Twe - uh - thirty gil?" Reno asked, astonished. "I mean, yeah - that sounds cool." If Asher was serious, Reno's money problems would be solved at a stroke. "You mean thirty gil an hour?" he asked, trying to sound as though that was more or less what he'd expected.

"Of course," said Asher, "that's the usual starting rate. So do we have a deal?"

"Yeah! Yeah - okay," replied Reno, struggling to keep his tone nonchalant.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" said Asher jumping up and down. "This will be great. You can help me with math and I'll help you with Cetran and you can teach me how to fight and we can be on the same sports team and win the house cup! And as an underclassman I will totally be at your service, senpai!" A moment later he added. "Senpai is wutaian, it means respected senior. I think. They don't offer classes in it so I've been learning it on my own."

Reno took a step back in the face of Asher's puppy-like bounding. "Yeah," he said, trying not to laugh. "Great. That's - nice. And good for you - with the whole Wutai thing."

The kid had been talking so fast, jumping from topic to topic, that Reno had sometimes struggled to keep up with what he was saying, but he suddenly remembered where he'd heard the boy's name before.. "Asher," he said, as they continued along the main corridor. "I know where I've heard your name! You share a dorm with Mani and the head's son – Ralf was it? That means I'm in your room, too, now. Mani asked me. Hope that's okay," he added, realizing that neither Asher nor the other boy had been consulted.

Asher's ear to ear grin was answer enough and in case there was any doubt he pumped his fists in a display of victory. "Awesome!"

Rufus had planned to approach Reno at dinner but the redhead was nowhere to be seen. That was odd. Had something happened? He scanned the room. Sinclair and his gang were in their usual spot so no one had ambushed him. Hopefully he hadn't done anything to get himself expelled just yet.

Even if Rufus no longer planned to beat him in the race, convincing him to drop running would still be a victory. He needed to beat Reno, one way or another, and it just wouldn't do if the idiot went and got himself expelled. With Reno gone there wasn't much point hanging around the cafeteria. Rufus was never very hungry and wound up pushing his food around more often than he ate it.

Rufus had only just stretched out on his bed and opened his Cetran primer, lying on his back and using the book to block the lowlight of the setting sun that filtered through the diamond pane of the window, when his phone rang.

Who would call him? Father wouldn't bother, would he? Not that Rufus cared; at fourteen he was far too old to care. Tseng was more likely to check in. Rufus hoped it was Tseng. He wanted to tell him about Reno, perhaps get his take on his plan. Rufus flipped open the PHS and said hello.

"Rufus?" The voice wasn't Tseng's or his father's, but it was one he'd known all his life. Veld waited, needing Rufus to confirm his identity before he continued the call. At least a sentence was necessary in order for the voice recognition software to be able to make the confirmation. All calls to and from the Academy were monitored in this way.

"Veld?" asked Rufus sounding quite confused. Ordinarily if the Turks needed to contact him it would be Tseng who called. Come to think of it, Rufus hadn't seen or heard from Veld since the meeting with his father back in March, over six months ago. Where he been over the summer? "Uh yes it's me, has something happened?" Was his father all right?

"Don't be concerned," Veld replied. "Yes, it's me. Your father is quite well; busy as usual. In fact, we've all been - busy. Tseng would normally make this call, but he's away on a long-term project. Your father order - um - asked us to call you at the start of each term to make sure school's going well, and to check your grades."

"How thoughtful," said Rufus, his words laced his sarcasm, "He does know we don't get grades until after the end of term? My grades from last term were posted back in July. I told him I had straight As. My father doesn't even listen when I talk to him, so why bother talking to me? You think he'll read whatever report you write up?"

Rufus thought he could hear a sound that could have been Veld sighing, but he wasn't sure. It didn't seem like the sort of thing Veld would do.

"Of course he's interested in your welfare, Rufus - he's your father. And I can assure you he keeps up to date with your grades - I overheard him boasting about them, actually, at a party in K - in Kalm, at the end of the Spring term. I just meant - how are lessons going? Is there anything you need?

"Lessons are fine," said Rufus. He wished Tseng had been the one to call. He wanted to know Tseng's take on Reno without worrying his concerns would be reported to his father. All the same, finding out what Veld knew could be useful. "Did you know they let that boy in, the one who broke into the school to race? I bet you do, he wouldn't have been in without some sort of clearance. You could have warned me, you know."

Veld sounded uncharacteristically vague as he replied, "Boy? What - oh - oh, yes - the runner. Yes, he was cleared. Your father seemed to think it was about time your school won a few sporting trophies, and we're keeping an eye - Why? He's not giving you any trouble is he?"

"Everything's fine, it was just surprising." said Rufus. He wouldn't go on about how no one would ever forget the race now or confess his insecurities about losing a possible rematch or say anything that might sound weak. He was sure everything he said would go straight to his father. He trusted Tseng. Tseng could keep a secret. Tseng wasn't his father's friend; he just worked for him and that meant he didn't have to report everything if his father didn't really need to know. Though it was strange that Veld didn't know the boy by name. "I win trophies, " Rufus pointed out. "When will Tseng be back, and where were you? I didn't see you at any of the summer parties. Is something happening?"

There was a long pause before Veld replied, "No. There was a - a regrettable incident which put me out of action for a while, but it's all been - cleared up. The situation is normal." His tone brightened, although there was something a little strained in his voice, as he added, "I'm sure your father is proud of your achievements in sports, too. He likes to keep you on your toes. I expect he sees this new boy - Reno, wasn't it? Reno Finn -"

"Flynn," corrected Rufus. "Isn't it your job to be informed?" It wasn't like Veld to be out of the loop. What was going on?

"Right Flynn, yes, I expect your father sees him as a challenge for you."

"Tch," Rufus huffed. So his father was actively trying to make his life harder. Rufus's grip on the PHS tightened. He wanted to throw it across the room. What he even supposed to say to that? That he wouldn't disappoint his father? Everything disappointed his father! "Should be fun," said Rufus. On the bright side, Rufus felt even better about his plan. By making sure Reno refused to race, Rufus would not only beat Reno but also beat his father at his little game! Though Veld sounded a bit off. "Well, I'm glad you're all right. I'm sorry about the incident," - whatever it was, why didn't anyone ever tell him anything? - "did we lose anyone?" He knew Tseng was safe and that was what really mattered, but if any of the other Turks had been killed… Rufus sighed, he shouldn't care so much, father would scold him for it. The Turks were company assets, disposable ones if need be. There was no room for being soft hearted.

Again there was a pause, although not such a long one this time. "No," Veld replied firmly. "No casualties except my arm. But that was my own fault. Careless."

It was Rufus's turn to be silent. What he supposed to say to that? Whatever happened sounded pretty bad, but at least no one had died, but then Veld didn't sound quite right. Maybe it had been closer than he cared to admit. "I see," said Rufus, "But you'll be all right?"

Veld's laugh sounded creaky, but perhaps that was just a bad connection over the PHS. "Yes, thank you, Rufus. I'll survive. You - look after yourself. Work hard."

"I'll do whatever it takes," said Rufus, "you can count on that." Rufus ran a hand through his hair. He would win, one way or another. If his father wanted to play games, Rufus would rise to that challenge too. "I have everything under control. Good night, Veld." He shut the PHS. Laying aside his textbook for the moment, he let his mind focus on strategies for winning Reno's trust. Once Reno let his guard down, nothing would get in the way of Rufus's victory.

Chapter Text

Reno thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the following afternoon's double lesson, which was two hours of track and field sports. He'd never tried any of the events before but it seemed that life below the plate had fitted him for many of them, and by the end of the afternoon two teachers and several boys had asked him to think about joining clubs and teams. He couldn't remember the names of all the bits of equipment, but he soon worked out that his strengths were anything involving speed and jumping. When it came to throwing things – the javelin, and that odd, heavy disc thing – he was no more than average, but on the track he shone. If one or two boys sniggered at his unconventional hurdling technique, they soon stopped when he won in spite of it.

The communal showers were a bit of a surprise, but all the other students seemed to think it was perfectly normal to strip off in front of each other. Reno dashed in and out as fast as he could – the tepid water was hardly an invitation to take his time in any case. He dressed quickly, conscious of the scars on his back for the first time in years. Most of the time he forgot they were there. The small one on his stomach just below his ribcage from that incident two years ago had faded already, so the ones on his back were probably hard to see now anyway, but he didn't want people asking questions.

Mani came over, red-faced from exertion, but still cheerful. "You were good!" he said. "I'm rubbish at sports – I always come last! I hold an unbroken record for that. Good to be known for something, right? The best thing about PE is that it's right before dinner. Are you ready?"

Reno followed Mani to the refectory. The plate of mince and pasta he'd had at lunch was more than he was used to eating in a day and had filled him up after missing the previous day's dinner, but now he found that he was hungry again following the afternoon's exercise.

"You'll get used to it," Mani said as they lined up and he handed Reno a wooden tray. "The dinners are okay. Not great – but quite edible. It's best to get your main course and pudding at the same time – the nice puddings go if you wait."

Reno wasn't sure what 'pudding' was, but he nodded as if he understood and copied what Mani did.

"I'm getting the stew and dumplings," Mani told Reno as they reached the front of the queue. "You?"

"Uh – yeah. That," Reno said. He couldn't believe numbers of metal trays full of hot food arrayed before him. Since he didn't know what half of it was, he thought it safest to stick to Mani's choices. A pleasant woman in a white apron and cap ladled steaming stew onto Reno's plate. "Carrots, peas or both?" she asked him.

"Both?" Reno said hopefully.

When his plate was so full he doubted that another pea would have fitted on it, the woman handed it back to him. "There you go, my love."

"Thanks!" Reno was still marveling at the sheer volume of food on his plate, when a second woman asked, "Pudding?"

Reno looked to Mani, but he was already making his way to one of the long tables, carrying his loaded tray carefully.

Seeing his confusion, the woman smiled at him. "Junket, or spotted dick?"

Reno stared at her, thinking he must have misheard. "H - huh?" he stuttered.

"Junket, or spotted dick?"

Dumbfounded, Reno just pointed at the nearest tray, which looked as though it contained some kind of spongy cake flecked with dark pieces of something that might be fruit.

The woman spooned a large helping into a bowl. "Custard?"

"Um – is it nice?"

Looking at him more carefully, the woman asked, "Are you new?"

"Yeah."

"You're the boy who won the race?"

Reno was astonished. Had everyone on the entire plate heard about that damn race? "Yeah," he said, embarrassed.

"I tell you what, I'll put some custard in another bowl, and if you don't like it, it won't spoil your spotted dick."

"Th – thanks," Reno managed, keeping a straightish face until he had turned away, balancing the heavily laden tray with difficulty. By the time he reached Mani his shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. Thecrockery and cutlery clattered as he set down the tray and sank onto the bench beside Mani.

"Are you okay?" Mani asked, rather alarmed.

Gasping for breath, Reno pointed at his dessert.

"What?" Mani asked, confused. "Is something wrong with your spotted dick?"

Reno collapsed.

By the time he'd recovered, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, several other boys had taken places at the table and were watching him curiously.

"Are you all right?" Seb asked from the bench opposite Reno. Next to him Sacha and Raf were both smiling without knowing what was so funny.

"Yeah. Yeah. It's nothin'. Seriously, I'm fine now. Jus' spo – spotted – And then he asked if – if there was anything wrong with – with my -" Reno collapsed again.

"Oh," smiled Seb. "I guess it is a weird name. You don't really think about it after a while."

Sacha and Raf were both laughing, but in a friendly fashion. From somewhere further along the table Victor Percy sneered, "Really – how utterly childish."

Reno ignored him, but his hilarity subsided. He made a start on the stew, trying not to look at the dessert.

Mani had already polished off most of his main course. "How come you got so much custard?" he asked Reno between mouthfuls.

"Oh – I didn't know if I'd like it, so she gave me a separate bowl so it wouldn't spoil my – I mean, you know," Reno said, making a huge effort not to chortle again.

Mani stared at him. "You've never had custard?" he asked in awed tones as if he couldn't imagine anything more tragic befalling anyone.

"No," Reno replied, not caring to elaborate. Everyone concentrated on eating for a while. Reno had never had such a huge plate of food in his life – or anything that tasted so good.

"You're really good at track," Raf said from across the table. "Perhaps Chocobo House will finally have a chance at winning something this year." He moved along the bench to make room for Asher, who had apparently finished his dinner already, but wanted to chat with his roommates. "Yes," he chimed in, catching the end of Raf's comment, "Zolom always win, because Rufus is so fast, and they have some good athletes in the fourth and fifth forms, too."

"What's up with that Rufus kid, anyway?" Reno asked. "He sure don't like me much."

"Don't take it too hard, it's not personal," said Asher. "I told you, Rufus doesn't like anyone."

"And Sinclair - that not personal either?" asked Reno.

"Oh that probably is. He thinks he's better than everyone. And he's a bit of a bully."

"Sounds like Rufus - and most of the kids here," said Reno.

"I wouldn't say most," said Sacha. He gave Asher a smile. "The mean ones are just loud about it. But Rufus is nothing like Sinclair. Sinclair's the sort of person who'd throw rocks at a cat because he could, or just to beat it. He likes hurting others because it makes him feel powerful. Rufus is more like the cat.

The sort of stray that just hisses, claws, and won't let anyone close enough to pet it because it's been kicked around. I mean, don't tell Rufus I said so! He wouldn't like anyone to think that."

"Rufus don't seem the type to get beat up. He walks around like he thinks he owns the world," said Reno.

"Well he has to," said Sacha. "His father wouldn't accept anything less. Rufus used to play music. He was brilliant - I'd never seen anything like him. A real genius. Then our last year of primary school his father came and said something to him. He stopped playing after that. He has a lot of expectations to live up to, and it can't be easy. Especially since his mom died."

Reno looked across the room, to where Rufus was eating alone at another table. Coming to a typically impulsive decision, he gave the rest of his dessert to Mani, who took it gratefully. "Back in a minute," Reno said to the twins and his three Chocobo roommates, before making his way over to the table where Rufus sat alone.

'Blondie', as Reno still couldn't help thinking of him, was staring into space, pushing some kind of white, creamy dessert that must be the mysterious 'junket' around his plate without eating it. Reno took a deep breath, and jumped over the bench to take a seat beside Rufus.

"Hey," he said. "I just had the – the other pudding. What's that one like?"

Rufus looked up, his expression giving Reno no indication of his thoughts or his feelings. Pushing his barely touched dessert towards Reno, he said, "Help yourself. I'm not eating it."

Reno picked up Rufus' unused spoon and dug into the thick cream. It was smooth and sweet - fairly bland, but with a faint interesting and unfamiliar flavour of something warm and spicy. Reno certainly hadn't tasted anything like it before. "The food here is so good!" he exclaimed. "But I don't get how we're supposed to eat all this every day. I can't hardly move!"

Rufus gave him an impatient look. "You don't have to eat all of it. Most of it ends up being thrown away when people can't finish it." He motioned to the garbage.

Of all the things he'd seen and heard since arriving at the Academy in the morning, Rufus' statement shocked Reno the most. He looked over to a row of plastic bins, and realized that, as students finished their meals, they took their plates and scraped anything they didn't want into the bins before putting the plates onto a pile, and the cutlery into a separate box. He blinked as he saw one boy dump virtually a whole plate of stew into the garbage.

"Why'd they take it, if they don't want it? But they use it for animals, right? And the stuff left over that no one took in the first place – they don't throw that in the garbage – that would be…" He shook his head, having no words for such an unthinkable waste of perfect, delicious food.

"It actually makes sense," said Rufus, pushing his hair back. "Food is thrown out all the time, from grocery stores, restaurants and things. If you can't sell it, it's cheaper to dispose of it. Of course, they can't just give it away to people because that would discourage people from paying for food. My father explained it to me once. We saw a homeless man digging through the dumpster in Junon. Father had security chase him away. He said that's why he's glad Midgar has the plate - keeps pests out of the dumpsters. My father is an asshole, but I couldn't come up with a counter to his economic point. It would be more expensive to collect the edible trash and do something with it. People don't do things unless they can make money from them."

"Pests?" Reno thought about making an issue of the word, but he'd come over to attempt some kind of a truce with Blondie, feeling a bit guilty that the race had apparently become such a big deal in the school and had given the some of the others reason to get at Rufus. The boy's old man sure sounded like an asshole, with his contempt for those below the plate, and his 'security', but Rufus didn't appear to share his father's feelings – not in every way at least.

Reno still wasn't at all sure what to make of Rufus. He seemed to prefer to be on his own, and yet the others seemed to have a certain kind of respect for him. He sure as hell wasn't easy to talk to. Asher had been right - Rufus did remind Reno of those feral cats that were everywhere in the slums looking at you in a way that could have meant anything – but if you tried to touch them they'd most likely rake you with their claws and hiss.

"Under the plate," said Reno, trying to keep his tone light, "us pests don't throw away nothin'. And – yeah – mostly everyone wants to make money, but you don't really think that's the only reason anyone does anything, do you?"

"You're not pests," said Rufus, "I'd never call you that. It's just what my father said and I have less respect for him for calling people that. People aren't animals. As for your question – I suppose some people believe in things other than making money. Duty, an idea...how should I know? I don't understand everyone." He hesitated for a moment, before adding, "I don't understand you, for one. You came over here and started talking to me. Why? I thought you disliked me. I haven't exactly been nice to you - but then again, you were asking for it."

Reno regarded Rufus warily. He really didn't get where this boy was coming from at all. He sounded so – what was it? Bored? Tired? He sounded as though he didn't give a shit about anything – but then he looked at Reno with something that might have been interest, seeming sincerely confused about why Reno was talking to him. Reno was beginning to wonder himself, but he was nothing if not persistent, and so he tried to frame an honest answer. "Well – I reckon you were the one askin' for it – with all that shi – uh – stuff about grammar and whatever – but, puttin' that aside, yo – I've been hearin' some things about how you've been getting' grief on account of that race, and I jus' wanted to say that I never meant anythin' by it, 'cept to see if I was faster, yeah? I don't got nothin' against you, man. Not apart from what you said."

"Oh..." said Rufus. "I thought you were trying to rub my nose in the fact I lost, that's why I mouthed off. I don't give a shit about your grammar, I just didn't want you to have the last word. Weren't you trying to mock me? You were smiling, playing dumb about how you got into the Academy, but your eyes said you wanted to hit me."

Rufus' honesty surprised Reno into telling the truth. "Yeah," he admitted, with a sideways glance at Rufus, pushing the unfinished dessert away, because, waste or not, he really couldn't eat another mouthful unless he wanted to throw up, "Well – you ain't wrong there. But how could I hit you? That's what everyone wanted me to do – to prove to them that I am what they think I am, yeah? An' I wasn't playin' dumb about nothin' either. That is how I got in – they put me in a group at school and gave me a ton of tests, and then more tests after a couple

months, and that was it. Then I got called to see the head, and she said I was comin' here. Not like it was my idea, or nothin'."

"But you must have applied," Rufus said. "And I still don't understand why you wanted to hit me. I hadn't done anything to you."

"Oh c'mon, Blondie!" Reno cried, exasperated. "The minute I walked in you looked at me like – like I was one of those 'pests' your old man was talkin' about, and you were all like, "How did someone like you get into our school", or shit! An' no – I never applied for nothin'. D'you think I wanted to come here?"

"I would never look at you like that and you have no reason to think that of me!" Rufus cried, seeming genuinely angry. "I'm not denying I was surprised you got in. The scholarship is highly competitive. From what I know of the process you have to apply a year ahead of time, then spend the next year prepping for the exam. I'm sorry, but you don't exactly look like the sort of person who'd volunteer to spend months pouring through vocab lists and doing practice exams. Not because you're underplate but because don't exactly seem like a swot. You skipped school to come up to the plate and hang out in the sun, after all. "

Reno was taken aback that Rufus seemed really angry at his accusation. He started to wonder whether he'd been mistaken about the tone of Rufus' initial remark. Could it have been surprise, rather than contempt, that made him ask what Reno was doing in the school?

"Okay," said Reno slowly, "Maybe I read that wrong, yeah? But – I don't have no reason to think nothin' of you yet either way – so I don't get why you're actin' so offended! And no – I never spent any time 'preppin'' before the exam…" An image of Wanda came into his head, saying, 'You don't know anything, and you never do any work!' "I guess… must've got lucky," Reno concluded, but he felt uneasy. What exactly was he doing here?

Rufus took a long drink of water and pulled his plate back to finish off his dessert, before he said, "I don't like being judged for what I am rather than who I am. You assumed I was insulting you so you must have formed some kind of negative opinion of me...but since we got off on the wrong foot, maybe we could start over and forget the misunderstanding?" Rufus smiled, and offered Reno his hand. "I'm Rufus, and you must be a total genius if you managed a perfect score on luck alone. People from all over the planet compete for the scholarship, and then they have to narrow it down out of the ones with perfect test scores. Your personal statement and resume must have been spectacular."

Reno shook Rufus' hand awkwardly, glad that some kind of a truce appeared to have been reached. He could understand not wanting to be judged for what he was – or at least because of where he came from - and he knew that he had assumed Rufus to be some arrogant rich kid who would automatically look down on him. What bothered him more at the moment though was Rufus' talk of 'personal statements' and 'resumes'. He wasn't sure what either of those things entailed, and he certainly hadn't had either of them, as far as he knew. However, he wasn't about to admit that to Rufus, despite the fact that the boy's honesty and willingness to make peace had rather won him over.

"'Kay, then. Well – thanks. Guess I'll see you in class, yo!" Reno left Rufus to his dessert, returning to the table where Mani, Asher and Seb still sat talking. Sacha and Raf had already left. "They have music lessons," Mani explained.

"We've still got half an hour before prep. Let's go back to the dorms, and you can unpack."

"Was everything okay with Rufus?" Seb asked.

"Yeah," said Reno. "We're cool, I reckon." Rufus had been honest and friendly enough, once the cause of their mutual hostility had been sorted out – but the question of the scholarship left Reno feeling uneasy. He was quite certain he hadn't got perfect scores on anything, let alone those statements and whatever. Why had he been given a scholarship so easily? Whatever else life in the slums had or hadn't taught him, Reno had learned from an early age to trust his instincts – and something about this whole set up felt very wrong.

X

"Befriending" Reno had proved a more difficult challenge than Rufus had anticipated. It was easy to manipulate people, all you had to do was figure out what they wanted to hear and parrot it back to them in a way that furthered your own ends. Rufus was quite good at being charming, especially with girls his age. It was so easy to feign interest in them and have everyone buying it. He'd assumed convincing Reno they were 'friends' would be no harder than convincing a girl he liked her. After all, romance and friendship, were all based on the same principles, really.

However, Rufus found it quite difficult to play charming around Reno. Despite his best intentions to say the right things, Rufus couldn't help being honest around Reno and blurting out whatever came into his heads. Sharing the fact his father saw below plate people as pests hadn't done him in any favors in convincing Reno he wasn't classist. Even though in truth he wasn't classist, so it should be easier to convince Reno of that right? He wasn't even lying, but by being honest he'd made a mess of things. Well maybe. They seemed to have come to a truce in the end, but the fact remained Rufus hadn't chosen his words carefully or worked to charm Reno.

He'd just said what came to mind for the most part. Although the conversation had presented an opportunity to plant some seeds of doubt in Reno's mind. So it wasn't a total loss. But Rufus still couldn't understand why he had been so honest with Reno instead of focusing on his objective. He needed Reno to like him, so flippantly saying exactly what he thought, even if Reno might not like it, was really unacceptable.

It was just something about Reno was so infuriating - no, that wasn't it exactly - something about Reno got under Rufus' skin. It didn't help that Rufus' natural inclination was to say what he wanted and it took effort and practiced control to say what he needed (something he hoped to get better at). Reno wasn't like the girls who liked him enough from the start. M, maybe that was 's why it was easier to play nice with the girls; he expected them to like him. Besides, he didn't care about girls so wasting his insights on them seemed pointless; empty charming small talk to achieve an end was simpler. Maybe if he pretended Reno was a girl it would be easier?

He tried that approach next day at break. He sat down next to Reno and handed him a pile of candy bars he'd bought.

"Here," said Rufus, "to make up for being a jerk the first day. I didn't know what you liked so I got all of them." Ok, maybe this was a bit much. "You don't have to eat them all right now, you can always save them for later."

"Uh – okay. Um – thanks?" said Reno, although to Rufus he seemed more confused than grateful.

Perhaps Rufus had made a tactical error. By buying Reno the sweets he might be insinuating Reno couldn't afford them, but then Reno actually couldn't afford them so why would it be offensive to assume correctly? Best change the subject. "It's etiquette classes today, if you want any tips let me know. The class is boring and the rules are illogical for the most part, but I've unfortunately had them drilled into me. Oh well, at least there'll be girls there." Rufus always made an effort to feign enthusiasm for girls, and considering giving Reno chocolates might be taken the wrong way now seemed like a good time to emphasize his enthusiasm.

"Girls, huh? Okay, cool," said Reno as he gathered up the various candy bars and stuffed them into the pockets of his jacket. "Oh, you want some of these?"

Rufus shook his head. He wasn't used to sharing, and what was the point of sharing something you'd just been given?. If Rufus had wanted the candy bar he wouldn't have given it to Reno in the first place. After, Rufus declined, there was a rather awkward silence, before Reno got to his feet and said with false cheer, "Well – I'd better…"

"Oh... yes. Yes... I have to..."

"Right," said Rufus, nodding and turning to go. Well, that could have gone better. Rufus was beginning to see one fatal flaw in his little plan. He had no idea how to make friends.