#even most of my friends who used utau back in the good old days have moved on to other things now and i'm sort of in that boat... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

risingfire17-the-weeb-trash · 5 years

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Amuto Fic (Working Title)

A/N: This is the first chapter in what I hope is going to be a multi-chapter fic. Also, if anyone has any ideas for a title, please send them over. Dedicated to my precious babies: Amu and Ikuto! Also, trigger warning for an abusive relationship (her ex was a massive dick).

Also, shoutout to @oodlittlething and @noviceotakus-blog for proofreading and offering tech support!!

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The ringing phone shocked 16-year-old Amu Hinamori back into the present moment as her close friend Berkeley Walker laughed at her startled expression.

“Spacing out again, were we?” the latter asked with a kind chuckle. Berkeley was one of Amu’s best friends, by her side ever since she started at her new high school in Cupertino, California, two years ago, after moving there with her parents and younger sister from Japan. Berkeley, herself a transfer from Albuquerque, New Mexico, (which, she assured Amu, was as different from San Jose as the latter from Japan, despite being in the same country) was a loud and confident girl, tough when the need arose, but surprisingly calm and level-headed. She was on the volleyball and martial arts teams at their school, and had met Amu in their homeroom class freshman year; the two transfers had learned to navigate their new school together. Amu was so happy to have found someone as strong as Berkeley to count on during her first year in America!

Today they were on the bus to meet their friend Suzie Chen. They had befriended Suzie last year, before she switched to the private girls’ school she currently attended following her father’s company’s relocation across town. Though she was doing well at her new school, she said she missed her friends terribly and couldn’t wait to see them today. The studio where she studied violin after school was giving free promotional lessons today, and despite Berkeley’s claim that she “100 percent lacked that kind of coordination,” Suzie had successfully convinced the girls to attend. Amu was also uncertain whether she possessed any sort of musical talent, but was dying to see Suzie, and figured the violin would be fun to try out, at least once. Suzie’s violin had such a lovely sound, peaceful and warm like a springtime afternoon spent frolicking in meadow blossoms. But just now, Amu had been thinking of another violin, slower, more melancholy notes, and a kind man with a terribly sad smile….

“I hope it was a nice daydream, Amu-chan,” chimed their acquaintance Yuki Yotoba sweetly as she walked to the front of the parked bus, waving good-bye to the two girls. Yuki-chan is so kind-hearted, even after I spaced out the entire time she was on the bus with us…I’ll have to make it up to her later! Thought Amu to herself. Yuki, aiming to attend nursing school, volunteered almost every day after school at the hospital, so they didn’t see each other much, but happened to be taking her bus today. A quiet, sweet-mannered girl like her would be a perfect nurse! She would definitely need to properly apologize next time! Maybe if she kept taking violin lessons, she could see Yuki-chan more, and become better friends with her!

Amu grinned sheepishly, looking down more than necessary to fish the still-ringing phone from her bag in an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks. How silly! How long had it been since she had seen, or even thought of, that person anyway? She retrieved the phone, answered the video call, and was greeted with Utau Hoshina’s beaming face. Amu was ecstatic; Utau was one of Amu’s closest friends from Japan, though they could rarely talk with Utau’s busy schedule. She worked so hard, having become a Japanese pop sensation while still in middle school, and was now, at age 19, singing internationally and also acting, having landed a major role in a hit TV series being filmed in Los Angeles, all while pursuing her degree in communications! “Moshi-moooooooooooooosh,” Utau sang into the phone in a playful voice. “Oh, hi Berkeley! This is perfect!” she exclaimed, switching to English for their American friend. “Did you two get your tickets for this Saturday?”

“Yes we did, thank you so much!” The girls were practically jumping out of their seats now. This Saturday, Utau was performing in nearby San Francisco, and they would see each other in person for the first time since her concert there last year.

“Good, I’d better see my two biggest fans there!” she said with a wink. “After all, I’ve been working super hard for you!” After a brief pause, she added, “Oh, I think you’ll like the opening band too, it’s a local one performing especially for the San Francisco concert.” Berkeley squealed with excitement.

“A band from here? What kind of band?”

“Indie rock. I met them last time I was in SF. A bunch of sweaty, grungy-haired guys,” she said with a grimace, “but their sound is nice. Soft guitar rifts with a piano. Just got a violinist too, pretty classy stuff. Now if only they would wash their hair more often! They better not embarrass me!” Amu’s stomach tightened slightly at the mention of the violin, remembering a certain Indie band Utau had briefly been involved with while they were still in Japan. An Easter project. Angsty pop music with a sad violin….

“-so not fair! Just because he’s a jock doesn’t mean he doesn’t wash his hair! Besides, you’ve never actually met him!” They were talking about Utau’s boyfriend and Amu’s former classmate, Kukai Soma. He was in his final year of high school in Japan, diligently studying every moment he wasn’t participating in extra basketball practice. A star player and stellar student, his dream was to secure a basketball scholarship to UCLA so he could get a US visa and move close to Utau. She acted like it didn’t matter if he came to America or not, but she always asked him how his UCLA application was going, adding a “not that I care particularly.” Kukai was shining with confidence, so sure that he would secure that scholarship no matter what! It must be harder on them than they let on, thought Amu, to live so far apart, as they have for most of their relationship, since Utua had started touring internationally shortly after they started dating over three years ago. But they were so strong and supportive of each other’s dreams. Oh please, please let Kukai-kun get that scholarship!

“Amu, please tell Berkeley that Kukai isn’t grungy!”

Amu chuckled. Utau may pout, but Amu knew she enjoyed the teasing, especially when it gave her an excuse to talk about her boyfriend; Utau had confided that it helped make him seem less far away, not that it bothered her, of course. Amu rolled her eyes and smiled. The girls stopped laughing just in time to hear their stop announced and began to gather their bags. “You two have a violin lesson today, right?”

“Yeah, Suzie’s studio is giving free lessons today, so we decided to try it!” Utau’s softened, then narrowed mischievously as she broke into a teasing smile.

“Amu, will you become a great violinist like Ikuto?” Again, Amu caught herself blushing. This time, Berkeley caught her as well.

“Ooh Amu, you’re blushing! Who is Ikuto, a cute boy?”

“As if! Ikuto is Utau’s man-child pervert of a brother! And he’s lucky he was able to record music, because he certainly can’t keep a real job!” she said a little too loudly, all the while cursing her cheeks for blushing so brightly and begging them not to turn redder. Berkeley laughed as the bus pulled up to their stop, while Utau just narrowed her eyes, smiling even wider with a “hmmmmmmmmmm.” Amu wanted to melt away. But why? Ikuto Tsukiyomi really was just her friend’s man-child pervert of a brother. Why did everyone think he should be anything else. Even Tadase….

Suddenly Utau’s face was a great bright smile again. “Well, ladies, my break is over! I’ll see you both Saturday!” The girls said good-bye as they exited the bus, Suzie waiting for them in her school’s uniform and carrying her violin case. Berkeley called out to her in her loud, emphatic voice (a credit to her Midwestern roots, she had explained):

“Oi, Suzie, look at our prim, proper paragon of wifey material! You ready to school us in ‘etiquette befitting a lady,’ or whatever it’s called?” But before they were fully in earshot of their friend, Berkeley clapped Amu on the back and whispered, “You’ll tell me all about Ikuto later, right?” She ran ahead with a carefree smile and wink.

It was true that Amu had never told Berkeley about Ikuto, even though she was her closest friend in America, knew about all her friends from Japan, and had met most of them, at least electronically. Kukai-kun she had met last year through a video chat with Utau while she was home for a visit. She had joined Amu in Skype calls with Nagihiko Fujisaki and his boyfriend Richie Preston, who both studied dance in England. She followed Nagi-kun’s dance videos on Instagram, and had even seen videos from his days as Nadeshiko. Berkeley frequently chatted with Rima Mashiro, Amu’s closest female friend in Japan. Rima-chan and Nagi-kun had dated for a while, but broke up after he moved to England for high school. Not everyone could handle a long distance relationship as well as Utau-chan and Kukai-kun, after all! Rima-chan and Berkeley turned out to share a love of comedy, so despite the latter’s “uncouth American manner,” Rima “approved” of her. Geez, that girl could be such a tsundere at times! Why can’t she just admit that she loves talking to Berkeley?

As did Yaya Yuiki, who, practicing for her dream of becoming a preschool teacher, took it upon herself to give Berkeley regular Japanese lessons via Skype. Amu had tried to tell her teaching preschoolers and teaching a high school student Japanese weren’t exactly the same thing, to which she responded “But if she knows that little, it’s almost the same thing right?” Honestly, Yaya-chan could be the uncouth one at times! It wasn’t Berkeley’s fault she didn’t know much Japanese! Apparently most American schools don’t teach any foreign language until high school, and even then only the Spanish of neighboring Mexico! Really! How did any of their students go to school abroad? Amu couldn’t imagine starting high school in America without having taken English since elementary school!

Berkeley had never met Kairi Sanjo, but knew him as the polite boy from Amu’s emails. He was too old-fashioned for the social media that kept Amu in constant communication with the rest of her friends, probably because it’s too “worldly” for his devout samurai lifestyle. In his final year of middle school and top in his class, he was applying to schools in Europe and America. He has even applied to a school in San Francisco, so maybe Amu would see him again soon!

She had shown Berkeley pictures of him at his sister Yukari’s wedding to Yuu Nikaido. Berkeley had met Yukari Sanjo-san, Utau’s manager, at last year’s concert, and knew Nikaido-sensei had been Amu’s teacher in elementary school. Amu had let it slip that those two used to be bad, but she let Berkeley think she was only talking about Sanjo-san’s addiction to take-out and Nikaido-sensei’s dangerous level of clumsiness. After all, Easter, the Embryo, and the Guardians were probably things she could never talk about with anyone, no matter how close the person or how fond the memories. Besides, that was all so long ago; they were good people now, a sweet couple with an adorable child, a 3-year-old girl named Su Nikaido. The name always made Amu swell with pride.

Berkeley knew of Amu’s mentees, Rikka Hiiragi and Hikaru Ichinomiya, now in middle school, and both knew of her, though she hadn’t talked directly to either. Rikka was too embarrassed by her poor English, but studied and looked forward to properly introducing herself in English someday, and Hikaru was busy with his intense studies and taking on more and more control of Easter, aiming to be able to run the company on his own by the time he came of age. Though he still found time for surprise visits to cheer Rikka-chan on at her track meets, always saying he “just happened to be free, no big deal,” when she jumped for joy to see him. Poor boy, thought Amu, Rikka doesn’t read the mood very well, and will take him at his word until he tells her how he feels honestly! When she told Berkeley about it, she responded that from what Amu said about him, he seemed like the type who wasn’t entirely aware of how he felt to begin with, which made a lot of sense to Amu.

Berkeley had a true gift for understanding people in that way. She pretended not to notice the inner conflicts people either didn’t understand or tried to hide, but she could tell, and when she did, she would give an elongated, kind of knowing glance, as if to say: “when you’re ready to talk, I am here.” And that look made people want to talk to her about it, not least of all Amu herself. Berkeley should really study to be a therapist, because she would make a great one!

In Amu’s case, a much-welcomed therapist. In the last year, Amu’s guardian characters had all been reabsorbed into her, first Ran, then Miki, then Su, and finally Dia. She knew it would happen eventually. As children grow up and become their would-be selves, they no longer need these selves to exist outside of them. When it happened depended on the person and how well they matured into their would-be selves, but losing a guardian character was a natural fact of growing up. The girls assured Amu that they would always be there inside her, but she still missed having them to talk to. How wonderful, though, that she had grown up into a girl who could talk honestly with her friends just the way she had with her guardian characters, like a normal person! And how especially wonderful to have such a good friend to talk to, all the way here in America, who she could talk openly to with no fear of judgement! Come to think of it, she thought, except for those secrets she couldn’t tell anyone, she had told Berkeley almost everything about her past.

So why, after knowing the rest of Amu’s history, did Berkeley never even get a mention of Ikuto? Well, first off, Amu wasn’t sure where to start with Ikuto; he was such a confusing man. She had met him in elementary school, and, like Nikaido-sensei, Sanjo-san, and even Utau-chan, he was once an Easter employee who corrupted and shattered children’s hearts’ eggs. But he didn’t have a choice; that was never something he wanted. Although what did he want, anyway? He sometimes seemed happiest when left alone to play violin in the park and then curl up to sleep on a bench. Though if he was truly happy, then why did the music he played in those moments seem so incredibly sad?

Other times, he seemed to enjoy teasing children, particularly Amu and her friends. He especially loved picking on Amu, telling her he loved her, kissing her cheeks, and all kinds of creepy things, then laughing at her confusion before disappearing, reassuring her that he would never do anything like “that.” (Whatever “that” was!) And then he would turn up months later, napping on her balcony, or even in her bed! Geez, he was just like a stray cat! Maybe I should have left tuna out for him, thought Amu with a smirk.

But even Ikuto seemed to know when to stop playing sometimes. Fighting Easter, there were so many times Amu could have gotten hurt, or worse. She had been kidnapped, shot at, and pushed off of buildings, and hadn’t Ikuto defied his boss’s orders countless times to save her when that happened? Why would he do that, though? If she wasn’t able to fight Easter, wouldn’t that make his job so much easier? Didn’t he get in trouble over that sort of thing? Hadn’t he actually been hurt after letting her escape that one time? He had been so helpless and alone, that Yoru had begged her, the enemy, to help him. Of course she had, because those injuries were her fault.

Maybe he actually does love you, thought a small voice in her head, which she quickly drowned out. Yeah, right! He probably just didn’t want Easter to stop him from being able to torment me, like a cat guarding its favorite toy!

Besides, it wasn’t like he treated the people he claimed to care for very well anyway. He left to look for his father, all the while cursing him for abandoning his family; he disowned his mother, still in the asylum after Aruto-san’s disappearance, and he had left his little sister Utau to raise herself any way she knew how, even if that meant becoming a puppet of Easter. Even now, he was the only one she would openly show affection for (she could be cold even to Kukai-kun), and he still would only see her if he was paid enough to perform with her. He had been especially cruel in constantly bullying Tadase Hatori, who had looked up to him and called him Nii-san.

Tadase. Amu’s first love. Their relationship had ended badly, and Amu still partially blamed Ikuto for it. Amu had admired Tadase since fourth grade, and their Guardian adventures had brought them together in fifth grade, leading to a relationship spanning sixth and part of seventh grade. He had been such a kind boy at first, giving everything he worked at and everyone he cared for his all. It was probably this absolute dedication that had drawn Amu to him in the first place. Once they started dating, he doted on her, always checking in with her, surprising her, looking for new ways to show her his love. But after they went to different middle schools, Tadase changed. He became a bit…too dedicated. It probably started with the constant texts. They had been so sweet in the beginning:

“I hope you’re having a great day.”

“I know you will do fantastic on your test today.”

“Thank you for being in my life.”

“I love you.”

But then they became weird. Obsessive. And constant. She had sometimes felt drowned in texts that made her feel…off. Like, kind of drained and even kind of nervous for some reason she couldn’t place her finger on.

“Do you truly love me?”

“There’s no one else for you, right?”

“Why won’t you text back?” He would text her in class! He may have been smart enough to get into a special middle school for gifted students, but she actually had to pay attention in class to keep up, thanks very much! Then he started obsessively asking her friends about her. Yaya-chan and Rima-chan had complained about the constant “why won’t Amu text me? Is she okay?” texts while they were in class. He would even show up unexpectedly after school, expecting long walks while he prattled on he, blissfully ignorant of her concern over her missed student club meetings or the test she needed to study for, prattled on about how he would graduate from his elite school and get a fantastic job so he could meet her every need and she wouldn’t need to lift a finger. She never felt like she could tell him she didn’t want to be taken care of like a child.

Ikuto had texted her during those years too, sending pictures of his adventures in Europe and asking about his “little Prince” Tadase. He teased them both so much, and Amu had yelled at Ikuto for constantly berating Tadase to “hurry and grow up man enough for Amu,” and threatening to steal her away. Honestly, didn’t that man have anything better to do than pick on kids? Looking back, Amu couldn’t help but wonder if Ikuto’s bullying had pushed Tadase to become so freakishly possessive of her.

Ikuto had been there New Year’s Day of seventh grade, that painful day, and Amu still wondered if things could have been different had Ikuto not been there. Of course, things had not been going well with Tadase to begin with, but they had talked about a fresh start in the new year; she loved him so, so much, and she still had hope that things could work! It started off well; Amu and Tadase met with Yaya-chan, Rima-chan, and Nagi-kun (who had only recently confessed that he and Nadeshiko were one and the same, and while Amu liked Nagi-kun a lot, she was still trying to get used to it) at the town’s New Year Festival. The girls had gotten matching hair ornaments, and Tadase had bought hers for her. Nagi-kun had offered to buy Rima-chan’s, which she had proudly refused, although not without a blush. Everyone was not-so-patiently waiting for them to finally realize they liked each other! Amu had added a new year’s prayer for them, in addition to her prayers her strained relationship with Tadase. Oh, how she had prayed with all her might when it was her turn at the shrine that year! She had felt so fresh and new afterward, and after seeing Tadase’s old, kind smile and taking his soft, strong hand, she really did believe that everything would be okay….

And then Ikuto arrived, lazily strolling behind a red-faced, pouting Kukai-kun, something about “hurry and grow up man enough for my little sister,” and “oh that’s rich coming from someone who only came to her concert because he was paid to open for her!” As soon as they arrived, Tadase had tensed, and Amu with him. As the day went on, things had gotten worse, and all because Ikuto wouldn’t mind his own damn business!

He had tried to buy her a hair ornament, saying the one she had looked too childish for her. Despite her insistence that she didn’t need fashion advice from a nosy man-child, Tadase had gripped her hand more tightly, as he had started to do lately when he was becoming jealous.

When they visited a maze to be completed in groups of two or three, Ikuto just had to crash Amu and Tadase, saying he “couldn’t possibly trust his mischievous little brother with Princess Amu.” Tadase had been silent the whole time, his face a dark shadow, and his hand had gripped hers ever more tightly. Her hand had even hurt! Despite the tension and pain, Amu had tried her best to laugh, smile, and bring joy back to their day, which had only seemed to anger Tadase even more, resulting in an even tighter grip. And that damn Ikuto had not helped, but simply strolled along whistling to himself, his obliviousness to the awkwardness he caused even more painful than Tadase’s grip.

The final straw had been in the early evening, right before show, when they stopped to get hot drinks. Tadase had gotten Amu and himself hot chocolates-huge with mounds of whipped cream and toppings, an extravagant peace offering typical of Tadase. Amu had sipped hers slowly to prevent a massive rush of sugar to her underprepared stomach, allowing the heat to sooth her cramping hand. Ikuto was taking forever getting his drink, Kukai-kun had gone backstage with Utau, and Nagi-kun and the girls were singing and dancing in anticipation of the concert, leaving Amu and Tadase to finally get some time to themselves. They sat silently, feeling each others’ warmth, watching as the night’s first stars fought to shine in the fading twilight. His hand had caressed hers so softly; how could it possibly have been the same hand to crush hers so just an hour past? It was moments like these when Amu remembered the warm, kind boy who wanted to walk forever by her side, protecting her heart, and oh, how she wanted him to so, so much! If only time could have frozen in that last perfect moment….

And then Ikuto had shown up with two apple ciders, holding one out to Amu. “Yo, Amu,” he had said with that devilish smirk of his, “I got an extra cider, you can have it if you like,” and then with a sneer at her hot chocolate, “after all, you only drink milk after a bath, no?”

Amu had screamed at Ikuto to stop saying such perverted things, demanding to know if he had anything better to do that harass children, but the damage had been done. Tadase had flown to his feet, cocoa spilled, face red, fists clenched. He had opened his mouth, but uttered no words, and finally just pushed past Ikuto, storming off. Amu had wanted to call to him, to say anything to heal his wounded heart, but her voice had been caught in her throat, no words able to reach him, no thoughts able to comprehend this situation she found herself in. Instead, with Tadase out of her reach, she had unleashed all her feelings on Ikuto in a fierce rage.

“Why do you always ruin everything? Why do you like seeing me hurt? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Looking back on it, Amu had hurled some pretty hurtful words at Ikuto, and for the first time, he had looked fazed, eyes open wide, face blank with shock as Amu continued to rant.

It was Rima-chan, in her fierce protection mode, who had stood between them with a curt “I think you should go, and Nagi-kun, in his rational, peace-keeping way, who offered, “I think there are some things to talk about that might be better discussed when everyone has had a bit of time to cool down.” Ikuto had just continued to stare in shock for what had seemed like an eternity before finally turning and walking away, slumped and defeated.

Amu’s friends had tried their best to help her enjoy what was left of the festival, as she had tried to take joy in their kind efforts. Rima-chan had shown her a comedy routine she had been working on, breaking her rule of only showing complete work (a rule she now broke frequently with her comedic partner Berkeley), Nagi-kun had offered to put his hair up and talk to her as Nadeshiko, an gesture met with a vigorous offer of hair ribbons from Yaya-chan and a jealous pout from Rima-chan. Both Nagi-kun and Kukai-kun (who must have been surprised to rejoin them and ask about Tadase only to be met with tears and sad glances) offered to talk to Tadase, “help him resolve things, man to man,” as Kukai-kun had put it. They had watched skits and acrobats, jugglers and dancers, Amu and her friends, and she laughed and smiled with gratitude for them, almost forgetting her heartbreak, but when a concert agent rushed past them, screaming into his headset to get Utau ready faster because “that damn violinist cancelled his opening act,” Amu’s heart tightened, and she took a bathroom break that became a long walk by herself.

She hadn’t meant to travel so far, all the way to the abandoned fence at the edge of the festival grounds, but she had found what her heart was searching for: Tadase, head down, covered in shadow and gloom. Oh, how she had run to him, so determined to set things straight and heal both their aching hearts once and for all! But when she had met his eyes, she had met with a crazed glare, piercing her from under disheveled hair.

“Oh, you finally showed up,” he had almost growled, as if he was so angry he didn’t even see her worth talking to as a person anymore. Amu’s stomach had been filled with so much dread, but still she must push on!

“Tadase-“

“Do you really only drink milk after a bath? Should I have waited to get you chocolate till you bathed? Would you have drank it then?”

“Tadase, I-“

“Why the hell do you let him talk to you like that? Do you like that?”

“No one can stop his teasing! You know that! It’s not like it means anything! He’s a adult, for heaven’s sake! An immature one, but an adult! He’s not…not like us!”

“It’s not just him! Everyone loves you, and you just let it happen like you like all the attention! What about Kairi? He confessed to you, didn’t he? Did you ever actually tell him no?”

“He…he didn’t really give me a chance to before he left, did he?” She stammered, not understanding just what he thought was going on. “Besides, I think choosing you is a clear enough rej-“

“And Kukai liked you too! Did you pretend not to notice?”

“What are you-? Kukai-kun is with Utau-chan!”

“And have you seen the way Nagihiko looks at you? Although it’s not surprising; you even spent the night at his house!”

“We thought he was a girl and you know it! Don’t you dare…Nagihi-no, Nadeshiko was my best friend!” This was when she had started to cry. Amu cared for Nagi-kun, and was happy he could be his true self. But at that time, Amu was still feeling the lost of her first female best friend.

Her tears had only made Tadase snarl. “And now you cry for him?! You cry for Nagi, for Ikuto, who won’t you cry for?” and after a pause, “you were supposed to be mine only, but who doesn’t your heart belong to?” And then he had grabbed her wrist, holding it over her head, backing her up against the fence.

“Tadase, you’re hurting me!” she had screamed into vacant space, all festival-goers still at the concert. She had struggled against his grip, only to have her other wrist captured and pinned to the fence, escape impossible.

“But you let Ikuto do this all the time, don’t you? Am I not good enough? Should I try harder?” His grip even tighter, Amu was crying. She had wanted to scream that he wasn’t making any sense, that this wasn’t the Tadase she knew. She wanted to beg for her old Tadase back, but she couldn’t speak; her words were drowned out by fear and pain. Through her tears, the world had appeared to be spinning in front of her, swallowing her. Even Kiseki had begged Tadase to stop, insisting that rule by fear was not the way to get real control of the world or even one person in it, but, in that moment, Tadase rejected his guardian character as “weak,” declaring that he would be a king by his own strength. Amu had watched as Kiseki was forced back into his egg only to disintegrate forever, destroyed by Tadase’s will that was still strangling Amu, nearly breaking her wrists. Meanwhile, Ran, Miki, Su, and Dia were screaming for Amu to transform, but she couldn’t reach her Humpty Lock in her captivity. And even if she had been able to, could Amu really turn her guardian characters on the boy who taught her to accept them in the first place; did she truly have it in her him, even then?

She had never been forced to decide. Tadase had been suddenly thrown backward through the air, crumpling in a heap on the ground. Without Kiseki, he no longer had the heightened resistance to physical damage granted to guardian bearers. Even so, he had raised his bleeding head only to meet the iron claws of Ikuto’s character transformation preventing any further attack. Amu had approached cautiously, the arm Ikuto spread out to block her from Tadase’s reach unnecessary; her throbbing wrists reminded her not to get any closer. There had been a moment of silence that felt absolutely endless, where Amu was swimming in so many nightmares all swirling together right in front of her while she searched in vain for some piece of…something…something that made sense for her to cling to in this upheaved world. She couldn’t even look up as she said the only words that felt so heartbreakingly right: “Tadase, I…can’t do this anymore. Please don’t ever come near me again.”

And then she had run, unable to face Tadase, Ikuto, her friends, anyone. She ran all the way home, all the way upstairs and to her room, unable to face her alarmed parents or whimpering sister. And how could she have, how could she explain the dreadful things that had just happened when she couldn’t even make sense of them herself? Even her four would-be selves had been unable to offer useful words, and so just waited with her, silent, sad, scared as she was.

How long had she been there, braced against her door as if she could keep the hurt out? An eternity? Two? More? before her mother knocked gently on the door, promising they could talk when she was ready, but a bath and some sleep would help her most. She had also assured her that when her worried friends had called, she had let them know Amu was safe and just needed some rest. In that moment, Amu had been so grateful for her mother’s gentle understanding nature that she followed her suggestion and took a bath, massaging her bruised wrists as the hot water wore away at some of the despair. When she had emerged, a glass of milk was waiting on her desk, and Amu even had even managed a smile at her mother’s thoughtfulness. She had taken the milk to her balcony and the refreshing night breeze, only to see Ikuto sitting on the railing, feet hanging over the street below. As she stood in the doorway in shock, he had turned to face her, tears streaking his face.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice came out as nothing but a hoarse whisper. She knew he wasn’t just apologizing for what had happened to her, but she also felt it was for something other than the teasing that had caused it. She didn’t entirely understand what he was apologizing for that could move him to tears like this, nor did she want to know at that moment. On top of everything that had happened already, this was just too much.

“Amu, what do I do?”

“I don’t know Ikuto. I’m just a kid. I don’t know.” She couldn’t stand his long, sad gaze, wanting something from her she could neither understand nor provide. “Please go,” she had whispered, unsure of her words at first, and then, louder and with more conviction, “please.”

Her final glimpse of Ikuto was still burned into her mind. A smile so wide, not his usual teasing grin, but a genuinely kind, well-wishing smile, one concealing so much pain. His eyes closed, shutting in the rest of his tears as his face still glistened. “Hurry and grow up, Amu.” An uncharacteristically gentle voice, cracking at the end. And then he had jumped to the ground and leapt away into the night, his silhouette revealing the cat’s ears and tail of his would-be self.

The coming days and weeks would involve doctor visits, calls to Tadase’s parents, and many precautions in place for Amu’s safety: her parents working more from home, her friends accompanying her to and from school, and the watchful eyes of Nikaido-sensei and Tsukasa-san over her as she continued to study.

Tadase would never speak to her again, either because he was decent enough to at least do that for her, or because he knew how well protected she was and was afraid to approach her. Amu had been so shocked, scared, and heartbroken during that time, but she had so many people supporting her along the way, that she eventually learned to feel normal and once again began to shine with hope for the future. By the time she left for her new world a year and a half later, she had become able to talk about Tadase, both the good and bad, just like every other piece of her past. When her new friend Berkeley had asked if she had ever dated before, she was able to her the honest story of Tadase, a kind boy with so much love to give that it had consumed him and made him sick.

She left Ikuto out of the story, though she had thought about him for a long time, perhaps even longer than she had about Tadase. Not that it meant anything, of course. It was simply that her situation with Tadase was clear. She could mull over what had caused it or what could have been different, and she had, but the fact was that he had hurt her and she could not safely be around him anymore. There was no point in further speculation.

But Amu had struggled more to put Ikuto out of her mind. She could tell that night that there was so much more he had wanted to say, but she herself had silenced his words, that secret heart she couldn’t carry back then. But she couldn’t help wondering just what was in that heart, and how did it concern her? Would he ever tell her now? Why hadn’t she listened when she had the chance, before he had stopped talking to her?

She would hear he was back in Europe, still searching for his father and becoming quite a popular performer, but she would receive no more pictures of his travels, no more blurry phone recordings of his cabaret concerts, no more questions about school and if she was grown up yet, no more teasing. Nothing. She had half expected him to arrive uninvited when her friends threw her a going away party the weekend before she left for America. But he did not, and after leaving for a corner of the Earth so far away he couldn’t possibly reach, he eventually faded from her thoughts. Maybe that was for the best. She had so much to be getting on with; she couldn’t spend what little was left of her childhood haunted by that enigma of a man, teasing yet protective, that sad smile, that melancholy melody pulling on her heart….

Amu hadn’t realized that she was now a considerable number of paces behind her friends, or that there were tears in her eyes. Berkeley and Suzie looked back at her, concern on their faces. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry; I think some of that concrete powder or whatever got in my eyes!” She pointed to the taped off area about twenty feet behind them, where two construction workers drilled into the ground with a jackhammer, and started to laugh. Suzie, bless her heart, pulled out a handkerchief, with which Amu pretended to wipe specks from her eyes. Berkeley gave her that knowing gaze, and Amu laughed sheepishly, knowing she had some explaining to do later. When she had recovered herself, they walked the remaining block to the studio and checked in at the table outside.

“Ah, Miss Chen, Mrs. Mansfield had to take her maternity leave early, but the substitute for your class agreed to start covering early, so you will be in good hands.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Nishida,” said Suzie in her sweet, refined voice to the studio manager. “Is everything all right with Mrs. Mansfield?”

“Baby came a bit early, but all is well. A healthy boy. Mrs. Mansfield will be back with us in about two months, after she’s had time to settle in. It’s her first, after all!”

“Of course, thank you so much for taking such good care of us all. Please send my regards to Mrs. Mansfield.”

“Surely, Miss Chen. Now, are these two sweet friends of yours here for today’s promotional lessons?”

“Yes, Mr. Nishida. Amu Hinamori and Berkeley Walker. Would it trouble Mrs. Mansfield’s substitute to take them in my class for the day?

“I’m sure it would be fine. He may be a bit rough-looking, but he seems like the type who can handle himself well. Now, Miss Hinamori and Miss Walker, loaner violins are available by the table at the start of the main hall. Once you’ve got those, just follow Suzie and let her teacher know you’re promotional students today. Have a great time and welcome!”

After they got their violins, they filed into Suzie’s class, gushing about what a sweet gentleman Mr. Nishida was, calling them “Miss!” Suzie explained that while Mr. Nishida was a very sweet man indeed, it was common, even expected, to call music students “Mr.” and “Miss,” rather than by the more common first name. Berkeley exclaimed “wow, so proper!” in wide-eyed amazement, while Amu was reminded fondly of the honorifics of her native Japan. The substitute appeared to be a few minutes late, so the girls watched as Suzie set up her instrument and attempted to copy her movements. How does she make poise look so easy, wondered Amu in admiration and slight embarrassment at her own awkwardness. Suzie assured her and the equally struggling Berkeley that it was quite normal; she had struggled at first too. The girls all giggled, having fun in this sweet moment together.

And then he appeared at the front of the classroom. His entrance had been silent, so few students noticed amidst the hubbub, and Amu might not have either if the corner of her eye had not been positioned just so at just the right moment. Tall, lanky frame clad in baggy gray and black plaid slacks, draped over an incredibly scuffed pair of black boots. A wrinkled and faded black button-up shirt, untucked, sleeves rolled up, top button undone to expose a bulky silver cross. Long indigo hair, only partially captured by the loose ponytail at the back, the rest falling into his deep blue eyes, framed by severe-looking black-rimmed reading glasses that actually dressed up the rest of his rumpled outfit. Those piercing midnight blue eyes, open wide in a shock that mirrored Amu’s own, boring into her soul to call back unanswered questions she had abandoned long ago.

Amu almost dropped her violin as he made his way to her, ignoring other students’ gossiping and giggling, the fiddling with instruments, and other reminders of the present world, suddenly far too mundane to contain this moment. He stopped a foot in front of her, leaning over her wide-eyed, upturned face, searching it as if he had left some sort of truth there long ago. Berkeley looked from one to the other with a slightly raised eyebrow, the only giveaway that her curiosity was anything more than mild.

Suzie was the one to break the silence with a soft greeting: “Um, excuse me, sir, are you the substitute instructor for this class?” He finally removed his intense gaze from flushed, trembling Amu to glance at her. When he said nothing, she continued “…I’m Suzie Chen of Mrs. Mansfield’s class, and these are my friends Amu Hinamori and Berkeley Walker, here to receive promotional lessons today. Thank you for taking over the class on such a hectic day, and if you need any help during class, please feel free to call on me.” He stared at her for a few seconds, his true attention still obviously on Amu.

“Yo, Amu,” he said, recovering some of his old confidence, but not the hint of teasing his voice had always carried. No, this was more reserved and polite, even despite the familiar language. Then, turning to Suzue, “thank you, Miss Suzie. I gladly accept your care.

He then strode back to the front to call class to order. “Attention, everyone. Class will now begin. I will start with roll call, first the studio members and then the promotional visitors. Listen up for your name.” Seeing the looks off confusion, he added, “oh yeah, Mrs. Mansfield took an early maternity leave, so for the next two months, starting today, you will be in my care. I have performed on stages in Japan, Europe, Australia, and the United States, both as a soloist and as a member of an orchestra. I have a recorded solo album and appear in six orchestral albums. I am currently working on my second solo album and collaborating with the Indie rock band Stray-t and Narrow, Stray-t spelled S-t-r-a-y-hyphen-t. We will be opening for the world-famous Utau Hoshina this weekend at the Regency Ballroom in San Francisco. Is there anyone who does not believe I possess the qualifications needed to lead this class?” At the end his voice took on an icy edge, as if daring anyone to speak out against him. When no one did, he continued: “My name is Ikuto Tsukiyomi, you can call me by first or last name. I’m here to teach you music, not some stuffy outdated etiquette. You want that, go to finishing school.” Then, locking his fierce gaze on Amu, concluded, “Let’s get started.”

Amu, trembling, struggled even more than before to position her instrument. Her mind was all at once racing at light speed and standing dead still. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and her blood coursed in her ears, dizzying her. How can he be all the way here, after all this time? What do I say? What do I do? How do I act? Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! Suzie chuckled nervously, probably uncomfortable with the coarse character of her new instructor, and confused about the way he was treating her frazzled friend. Berkeley’s stare rested on the strange man as she nonchalantly whispered under her breath, “So that’s Ikuto, huh? Well, this ought to be interesting….”

#anime #manga #fanfiction #shugo chara #amuto #amu x ikuto #amu hinamori #ikuto tsukiyomi #nagihiko is gay af #tadase is a dick #sorry not sorry

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wishingforatypewriter · 6 years

Text

Queenmaker: A Sumire Story (Portraits of 119)

If there was one thing Mimasaka Sumire had learned from her parents, it was that information was everything.

Her mother was a top detective whose investigative prowess had broken up many a triad and cartel in her time on the police force. Her father was a chef who’d masterfully incorporated psychological warfare into his craft.

And Sumire? She’d be among the academy’s elite one day—of that she was certain. But for now, in her first year at Totsuki’s middle school, she just had to keep ear to the ground.

So far listening had been an easy job because all 800 students in her year—the academy’s 119th generation—were talking. Specifically, they were talking about an heiress in homeroom A who’d moved into the Nakiri Mansion.

That proud estate on the edge of campus had been unoccupied since the legendary jewel generation matriculated. Almost every first seat—including its current occupant Mizuhara Himari—had tried to take it over, but the illustrious Nakiri family always refused. So everyone was speculating about how a mere middle school student had gotten the keys to the most prestigious residence within miles of the school.

I heard her family bought the mansion from the Nakiris. Her papa is richer than god, you know.

She only uses shampoo that’s specially made with crushed pearls and Bulgarian roses; that’s why her hair is always so shiny!

My aunt is on the Totsuki Network’s board of directors, and she swears that girl is betrothed to the chairwoman’s son.

Sumire absorbed the whispers, measured the stories against one another and compared their weight. Nothing she’d heard about this Hayama Akane seemed completely accurate, but she wasn’t willing to rule anything out just yet.

In the classes she had with the mystery girl—and her self-appointed body guard from the Mito family—Sumire learned the most of all.

Fact 1: She was extremely competent.

Even though their Intro to French Classic professor was the toughest grader in the middle school division, Hayama-san had never received a grade lower than an A. And she never seemed to lose sleep over her cooking assignments the way the mortal honor students did.

Fact 2: Contrary to popular belief, she probably came from old money.

Sumire could tell by how she answered the other girls’ intrusive questions with aristocratic patience and indifference. She never bragged or flaunted her background in any obvious way.

“Hayama-san, how much is your papa really worth?” One of the social climbers, Kawashima Utau asked her one day before class. “I heard he’s been on the Forbes list for the past ten years.”

“My parents don’t discuss money with me,” she replied without looking at the girl.

“Well, how do you know the chairwoman?”

“She’s a family friend.” Hayama-san was gazing out the window again. Sumire had noticed that she did that a lot; it almost seemed like she was wishing she was elsewhere. Anywhere else, really.

“Do you know what kinds of girls the chairwoman’s son likes?” Kawashima-san continued. “Can you introduce me someday, since we’ve become such good friends?”

From her limited observations, Sumire knew that Hayama-san wouldn’t answer that question. She was always extremely tight-lipped when it came to the Nakiri heirs, and Sumire had no idea whether it was because of her upbringing or a personal sense of loyalty to them.

“Kawashima-san, I think the professor is going to come in soon. You should probably return to your seat.”

Fact 3: She had mastered the art of the tactful burn.

Sumire wondered where she had learned that trick of inflection that gave her the power to dismiss people out of hand—and before her thirteenth birthday, no less.

In what type of life was that kind of thing necessary?

In the weeks to come, Sumire largely abandoned her quest to find out more about Hayama Akane. The girl was absurdly private, and Sumire swore to herself that she’d never resort to stalking. So she decided to focus her time on more important things—like finding the best cooking spaces on campus.

While in a prime location—only fifteen minutes from campus on foot—Sumire’s little studio apartment was somewhat lacking in the kitchen department. After compiling an elaborate spreadsheet with all the public kitchens on campus—along with their locations, amenities, and regular visitors—she determined that the premier spot would be a cooking practicum classroom on west campus.

Sumire made a habit of making lunch there during her free period before classes came in for afternoon sessions. It was spacious, well-stocked with top shelf ingredients, and always empty—or at least it always had been.

Sumire stood in the doorway and blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. But a few seconds later, Hayama-san was still sitting by one of the workstations, sobbing quietly.

Although this may speak negatively to the kind of person she was, the first thing Sumire thought of was how bad it could be if someone loudmouth saw her like this and told the newspaper.

She shut the door and tried to determine whether anyone would be able to see into the third floor window. Only when she felt completely certain that their location was secure did she approach the other girl.

“Um, Hayama-san...”

The pink haired girl looked up slowly, wiping her eyes. She made an admirable attempt at righting her posture. “You’re the one who usually cooks here. Mimasaka-san, right? Sorry. I’ll get out of your way in a minute.”

Sumire shook her head, slightly taken aback by how quickly she’d drawn upon her irreproachable manners. You’re not in my way,” she assured. “I was just wondering if you needed anything.”

“Thank you, but I’m really fine,” Akane said, tilting her head upward to stop more tears from falling. It only worked halfway, and they were kind of suspended between her eyelashes. Sumire reached into her backpack and handed the girl a small pack of tissues. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Sumire said before glancing furtively at the clock. It would be twenty minutes, a half hour tops before students in the first afternoon block started filtering in. “Listen, is there someone I can call for you? Mito-san, maybe?”

“Bells is in an RS meeting. I don’t want to bother her,” Akane explained. “I’m really fine. It’s just someone tried to call me from overseas and the connection dropped. It sounds silly, now that I think about it, but—”

“Can you use WhatsApp?”

“It’s fine,” she assured, blinking back more tears. “If I started crying like this over the phone, that person would do something unnecessary. And I don’t think I can fake it today.”

Sumire nodded, although she was beginning to suspect that Hayama-san’s interpretation of “unnecessary” was a lot different from most people’s. “Is there anything I can do?”

Akane shook her head. “I’m really okay. Being here is just...a lot sometimes. You know?”

“In my experience, sometimes it helps to take a break when things get too stressful,” Sumire told her. “If you want, we can go back to my apartment. It’s kind of small, but I have ice cream and a bunch of K-Dramas on DVD.”

Akane seemed to consider this for a minute. “But classes start up again in half an hour.”

Sumire shrugged. “People skip all the time at this school,” she said. “But if you’re concerned about attendance, I think I’ve figured out how to get into the school’s databases from the admin side. I can erase all the absences tomorrow morning.”

At this, Akane chuckled a little bit and Sumire’s face flushed. “I-I promise I’m not a delinquent or anything like that. It’s just that I happened to see the login credentials one day and—”

“I figured that,” Akane replied, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “It’s just...you sort of reminded me of someone just now.”

Despite her burning desire to do so, Sumire did not let herself ask who.

The next few weeks were characterized by Hayama-san trying to repay Sumire’s kindness in a variety of ways.

After she had returned 70 inch television, the town car and driver, and the gift certificate to Shino’s Tokyo—because all those things were exponentially more valuable than the 500 yen she’d spent on a pint of strawberry ice cream—Sumire thought the pink haired girl had finally gotten the message.

But all that changed after the incident with the Korean RS.

One day in October, Sumire applied for an executive board position at the Korean RS. Even though she was an underclassman, her prowess in her specialty was undeniable, so the club’s faculty mentor had encouraged her to try for a leadership position.

However, the club’s current president—a high school first year who’d made it to the Autumn Election’s quarterfinals—was so insulted by her ambition that he kicked her out of the club entirely. Sumire was shocked by his pettiness, but felt generally nonchalant about her dismissal; now she had sooooo much more time to catch up on her soap operas.

But then, as it always seemed to at Totsuki Academy, shit hit the fan.

One day, as Sumire was walking home from afternoon classes, a black limo pulled up next to her. Isabella Mito-Aldini thrust the door open. “Get in. Ask questions later.”

Sumire did as she asked, and after a U-turn that shouldn’t have been possible in such a cumbersome vehicle, they were speeding back towards campus.

“Mito-san, what is this?” she asked once the car stopped in front of the Korean RS building.

The blonde gave her a long look. “This is what happens when you don’t just take the TV,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Nothing is going to be the same after this.”

When they entered the club’s main hall, Hayama Akane was engaged in a confrontation with the RS president.

“Nobu Renji-kun, I hereby challenge you to a shokugeki for control of the Korean Cuisine Research Society.”

What. The. Hell.

Sumire couldn’t believe it. Since the start of the school year, Hayama-san had never been involved with any shokugekis. And now here she was picking a fight with an upperclassman.

“Can I ask what I’ve done to offend you, ojou-san?” the dark haired youth asked with a mocking grin.

Akane narrowed her green eyes, something dangerous flashing in them. “You have two options, Nobu-kun. Accept the challenge or admit to your cowardice.”

“I thought you society girls were supposed to have better manners than that,” he said. “But have it your way. Just know that if I beat you, I’ll have you hand over the keys to the Nakiri Mansion.”

“Done,” she said.

In two days’ time Sumire was pulled from her latest Netflix binge by a knock on her door. As soon as she opened it, Hayama Akane placed the keys to the Korean RS into her hand.

“There’s no return label on this one,” she said. “And my specialty is French food, so I honestly won’t do anything with the club. You have to take it.”

Sumire could only blink a few times. She had watched the shokugeki, witnessed the 5-0 win, but the whole thing was still unreal. “W-where did you even learn to kick ass like that?”

Akane smiled. “Mostly from my godmother.”

Sumire knew better than to ask who. “So are we even now?”

“Not even close,” Akane told her. “I’m still in your debt, Sumire-san.”

“In what way are you—”

“Since that shokugeki, people have stopped asking me all those annoying questions.”

“It’s because they’re all a little afraid of you now,” Sumire said. It was an understandable reaction, really.

“Does it make me an awful person if I kind of like it?”

Sumire shook her head. “I don’t think so. If they’re going to talk about you anyway, you might as well control the conversation.”

Akane stared at her for a moment, and Sumire worried that she had said too much. “Sumire-san, what are you up to right now?”

She pointed back to the television. “Just watching true love unfold. Why?”

“My godmother is in town today. I was about to go to lunch with her. Do you want to come?”

As she locked eyes with Hayama Akane, Sumire knew that this would be her initiation. From this point on she would be inner circle—a trusted partner, a confidant. It would be her responsibility to ensure the well-being of this inexplicably talented person. She hoped she’d be able to manage it.

“Sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

#shokugeki no soma #akisako #sorina #119th generation #portraits of 119 #mimasaka sumire #hayama akane #isabella mito-aldini

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