#like by the end he’s warning against kanji leaving the tent

[a-sketchy]

the thing about yosuke’s shittiness around here (up close and personal, the campout) is that the vast majority of it isn’t doing literally anything for his character. i completely think yosuke’s shittiness is important to his character, but it’s by and large reflections of his own insecurities and flaws. he’s insecure about his masculinity and sexuality, he’s lame, he’s selfish, he’s obsessed with the idea of women, his mouth moves faster than his brain, he doesn’t like himself, and he cares way too much about the societal ideal of ‘normal’. but it’s really important that he’s self-aware! he knows when the things he says are shitty, he knows he’s lame, he knows he’s selfish, he knows he’s putting up a front of being carefree and normal. but there’s absolutely no self awareness here, there’s no recognizing he went too far and apologizing the next day, there’s no regret, there’s not even any self-deprecation, and there’s absolutely no compassion or empathy like he has in serious moments. a lot of what he says is just mean for meanness’s sake, in an execution incongruous with previous behaviour. it’s not even funny!

#tbh i think the thing with kanji in the tent was the closest to being interesting #like by the end he’s warning against kanji leaving the tent #so clearly he cares about kanji more than he’s homophobic #he was straight up just saying that stuff to be shitty. knowingly! #that’s interesting! and the whole thing reeks of yosuke’s own insecurity in his masculinity and sexuality #he took it way too far and i deeply wish he’d quit it with the we statements #but if he had even a single line like ‘shit… i shouldn’t have said all that’ or recognized he was in the wrong at all #then i think it genuinely would’ve been an important moment for his character #everything else was just extremely shitty for no reason. the fucking swimsuits was pathetic but the gross guilt tripping was awful #he’s just lacking all of his usual self awareness. he’s lacking all of his good qualities and nuance #like it’s a fundamental misunderstanding of what makes yosuke’s other moments interesting or funny #this is just him being mean getting punished arbitrarily and not learning anything #on paper i get it. i get how these events could be continuations of established charateristics #but it’s just so mean and shitty that it becomes absurd nonsensical and unenjoyable #the stuff with hanako is just genuinely repugnant on the game’s behalf. it serves no purpose other than cruelty #definitely the worst part of the game so far #rambles #p4g posting #yosukeposting

[ynisamenace]

 Party For One

Warnings: sub! Aone being a flustered mess, confident dom! Reader, nsfw kinda (grinding, not pg-13 kissing), mention of drugs and alcohol, college au! Aone.

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: ok guys this is my first fanfic so apologies if it’s not too good or if the ending is too rushed. Constructive criticism is always welcome and pls don’t forget to like and/or reblog. Thank you!

Aone was not much of a party goer. Although his friends were more outgoing, he in fact was not. He was more of a homebody, mostly leaving his shared apartment with Kenji for school, to get more ramen from the corner shop near his uni or practice with his newly-formed volleyball team; courtesy of his newly-formed friend, Kanji. Then proceeding to come home to shower, nap, wake up, struggle with his homework and then sleep till the next day. He was about to start the fourth activity of his daily routine when the sound of the doorbell rang through the apartment.

Sighing, he left his spot at the kitchen island to open the front door, then trying to close it once Kanji’s face appeared behind it.

“Woah woah if you wanted some alone time, you should’ve just said that”, the cat-faced friend exclaimed, just barely slipping through the crack in the door. Face adorned with brown freckles and a smile seemingly super glued to his face, he looked like the poster boy of golden retriever boys, “Wouldn’t matter anyway since I’m still dragging you to Sugawara’s tonight.”

Ah yes, Suga’s party, the one Aone was being forced to go to as a favour for his new friend. The white haired boy uttered a grunt of disapproval as Kanji plopped down onto his couch.

“I’m telling you man, when girls see us walking in together with my beauty and your scowl-,” he smirked while giving Aone a once over, “-they’ll come flocking like parakeets.” Aone ignored his new friend’s rambling and was about to go back to his homework when his phone buzzed. Picking it up and looking at his crush’s name made him do a double take before realizing it was from his class groupchat.

Y/n❤: Someone better come pick me up or else I’m dumping the mary jane😤

Sugawara: You live on campus, how did you sneak it in?

Y/n❤: Come pick me up and I’ll tell you

Bsf/n: I can see I’m gonna be on y/n duty tonight. I’ll come get you in 5

Y/n❤: Girl I’ll literally marry you don’t play with me

                                         -5 minutes later-

Y/n❤: Psa to everyone in this groupchat, bsf/n and I are married now

Bsf/n: As long as you do my makeup for the party lol

Y/n❤: Deal

A slightly dejected sigh left the tall boy’s lips, wishing it was him y/n would joke about marrying to the- wait party?? The realization that y/n was going to the same party as him made heart race with anticipation and although he never talked to her in any of the classes they shared, Aone developed a massive crush on y/n just by seeing the way she interacts with others as well as her personality. Her presence when she walks into a room, beautiful coily/kinky hair either flowing or in a different ‘protective style’ (which Aone ended up googling the meaning to) and her face adorned with a smile so bright, he could feel his ears getting hotter just by its look, it would be foolish to think that no other person in his uni or elsewhere had already snatched her up. Which is why Aone never felt the need to let her know about how much he was falling for her.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his roommate’s door opening, revealing a clearly tipsy Kenji trying and failing to button up the last button on his silk shirt.

“Is anyone g-gonna help or what..” he slurred, stumbling into the living room, planting himself right in front of Aone who begrudgingly helped him with the last button. Satisfied, the intoxicated boy walks over to Kanji on the couch who’s currently scrolling through his instagram feed. He gives Kenji a once over before giving a nod of approval to his outfit. He turns to the tall, white haired boy, “Aone go change, the party starts in 10 and you know it’ll take us half an hour to get there!”, he exclaimed gesturing to Aone with his hands in a shooing manner. He didn’t understand what was wrong with his gray shirt and black sweatpants but went to his room to go change anyway, returning six minutes later sporting a green and white checkered shirt with dark blue jeans and black levis. The trio hurriedly leave their apartement, Kanji practically dragging both boys to his car before appointing Aone as the designated driver as the boy was the only one who had no intention to drink at the party.

The ride to the party took much more than half an hour as Aone was forced to drive while simultaneously trying to stop the two boys at the back from drinking any more of the pregame Kanji brought as well as preventing Kenji from messing with the aux cord. In the end, both boys settled on playing Ei8th mile on repeat the rest of the drive, both alternating between rapping DigDat and Aitch’s lines. Finally getting to the address Sugawara sent to the group, the trio hopped out of the car and went to knock on the door, opening to reveal the silver haired boy in all his glory wearing a burger king crown and a drunk smile.“You guys look li-hiccup-ke you had a fun drife here”, opening the door wider to reveal flashing red and purple strobe lights, living room filled with drunk and soon-to-be drunk college students and a hiphop song playing with a loud base that almost made Aone’s teeth clink. The two drunk boys wasted no time heading to the make shift bar in the kitchen, Aone following reluctantly behind feeling quite awkward in the party setting. Even worse, he was unable to spot y/n in the crowd making his heart drop lower into his stomach.

 No no no no. 

Even though Aone didn’t think y/n would like him the way he likes her, he was hoping he could at least use this party to make himself known to her, maybe forming a friendship with her first before professing his love. Dejectedly, he trudges to the bar, sulking next to his now very drunk friends who are far more interested with the designs on the kitchen counter. 

“Dude it’s so swirly…how do they make it like that?” one of the boys asks.

“Bro it has to be like a top secret thing. Like in the dark web,” the other replied, his eyes widening as his pupils are blown out more.

Not wanting to deal with their drunk conspiracies, Aone heads to the store room in search for some water after not seeing any laid out. Finding a bottle, he quickly gulps it down, faintly hearing the song in the living room change to one with a much deeper base. Leaving the store with his thirst finally quenched, he recognizes the song as Cold by Rico Nasty, her gravely voice echoing around the living room and drowning out some of the chatter which Aone was grateful for.

Ridin’ in a Maserati

Like Scotty I’m with two hotties

I ain’t just walk in the party-

“I brought the drugs to the partyyyy”, a voice which made Aone’s heart beat faster screamed, Y/n bursting through the front door with a medium sized pack of marijuana and a tray of what he assumes are pot brownies as the crownd cheered at her arrival. Her eyes wide with excitement, hair in cute little bantu knots (which Aone noted is now probably his favourite hairstyle on her), and dazzling smile still glued to her face. Making a bee line to the kitchen to drop the stuff she was holding, she hugged and greeted the people closest to her, making Aone regret not standing closer to the front door before realizing she was making her way straight to him.“Hi Polar Bear!” her scent of f/p enveloping him as she hugged his stomach, hair right next to nose, making the boy short-circuit. Y/n is hugging me. Me. Hugging. She smells so good. I should probably hug her back. But what if that’s weird. Hugging me. I’m gonna marry her. I’m gonna throw u-

“Takanobu woohoo you good?” she whispered in neck, drawing him out of his daydream, while at the same time making blood rush to his lower region. His eyes widen as he turns to see her staring right at him, inches apart and eyes questioning.

“I-I’m doing well y/n, um you uh look great tonight”, he managed to blurt out, his compliment making her lips curve into that signature smile. He unconsciously let out a low groan as he felt his jeans tighten even more as his mind raced a mile a minute, envisioning her on top of him, smile turning into a smirk as she runs her hands over his body making him squirm. His neck, his nipples, his happy trail, his-

Once again brought out of his daydream, he looked around to see y/n already gone and dancing in the living room, her presence making her look ethereal in the flashing lights. Smiling slightly, Aone deciding to stop before his imagination made him cream in his pants, decided to go look for his friends spotting both of them laying near a potted plant in the hallway caressing the leaves and muttering under their breaths. He discreetly goes back to the store, getting two bottles of water and placing them on either side of his friends, knowing they’ll be shocked at it ‘appearing’.

Sighing tiredly, he briefly thinks of just driving back to his apartment having already seen his crush and hugged her, but decided against it not wanting to feel guilty for abandoning his intoxicated friends. He was about to go to the backyard looking for some fresh air before he heard his name being said in the crowd. Turning around too quickly he bumped into someone, gripping their waist and letting their scent envelop him before he caught a glimpse of their hair. 

Yes yes God yes

“Nobu I’m so sorry, I was trying to get your attention but you didn’t turn around!” y/n exclaimed, gripping his shirt making the boy realize his grip on her waist was tightening significantly. He quickly tried to let go but y/n wasn’t having any of it and planted his large palm on her backside, squeezing a little. Aone’s face had never been as red as it is now from that simple action. Clearing his throat, he gives a tentative squeeze to gauge her reaction and seeing the smirk on her face as her pupils darken. She finally releases her grip on his hand and turns to the dance floor, Aone follow behind.

 As they reach the dance floor, afrobeats fill the air as joro by wizkid which Aone knew was one of y/n’s favourite songs) plays turning the energy of the party to a slower tempo. Y/n turns to the tall boy, once more putting his hands on her waist, before pulling him closer to her, their bodies now pressed against eachother.

Aone can feel her grinding on his pants and begs to any God who’ll listen to please not let him pop a boner right now. Her mouth comes closer to his ear and he can feel her breath making shivers run down his spine. “I could feel it you know…” she whispers as his eyes widen, embarrassment from though him as he realizes she felt the first boner he popped while hugging her in the kitchen “…didn’t peg you as the type. What a pervert you are Nobu.”   

That small gesture almost made Aone cream in his pants. Almost. If not for the overwhelming shame he would feel if someone saw him, his dick was already as hard as can be. A murmur left Aone’s lips and y/n has to strain her neck to hear him over the sound of the music flowing through the house.

“What was that Nobu?”

“P-plea-ase,” he whispers, ears a bright shade of red as y/n smirks looking him in the eye to see his pupils blown out, clouded with lust and feeling his member poking her in the thigh.

“Please what Nobu?” their lips almost touching.

“..Please kiss me”

“That’s all you had to say ya damn polar bear”, finally pressing her lips on his and making the butterflies in his stomach turn into fireworks. He really couldn’t believe it. His head felt like it was about to burst from all the blood that rushed into it. Her lips felt so much better, so much better than his imagination. Her hands sliding up to his neck and slipping into the hair on the nape of his neck, he uttered a low groan giving access to y/n to slip her tongue onto his. Aone could feel his precum dampening his briefs and hoped that a dark spot wouldn’t be visible by the end of the night. She tried to break the kiss, his head leaning closer not letting her go until she tugged hard on his nape hair forcefully, a string of saliva still connecting them.

“What a needy boy”, she smirked, letting go of him to swipe at the corner of his lips. “Why didn’t I come speak to you earlier?”, he didn’t care because for him, this really was worth the wait.

 Aone was not much of a party goer, but he’d have to thank his friends in the morning for forcing him to go to this one.

Tags: @itzgabz22

#aone x reader #dom!reader #haikyuuxblackreader! #aone x y/n #haikyuu!! #blackreader! #sub!aone #ceowrites

[koigoldfish]

「 HAIKYUU!! SETTERS AS THINGS THAT REMIND ME OF HISTORICAL EPICS 」

: ̗̀➛ AUTHOR’S NOTE. what can i say? i have no other explanation other than to say that i am a history buff. i spend most of my time either watching historical movies or stuff on youtube and just be awed at what ancient or medieval rulers did at the time. so, what if the haikyuu!! setters were like them too? consider my history-nerd side going off in this post. everyone here is inspired by many historical figures and i just mash them up together.

: ̗̀➛ WARNING(S). mentions of blood and violence, i.e, impaling (what did you expect? history is rarely ever pretty), though the description is not very explicit.

OIKAWA TOORU: ‘the great’, gold crowns made from intricately detailed sculptures of leaves, acorns, and flowers, mounting a stallion with a furious demeanour as its rider, vexilla glistening beneath the sunlight on their way to a battlefield, battle horns tearing through the sky as a sign of their arrival, putting two plumes on their battle helmet with the purpose of attracting their enemies to fight them, eyes burning with the flames of a thousand ambitions, clashing of the swords with kings doomed to fall before him, military campaigns to discover and raid other lands, the people erecting a massive statue during their reign as a sign of gratitude and worship, battle of gaugamela, “there is nothing impossible to him who will try.”

KOGANEGAWA KANJI: ‘the bruce’, raising a rebellion against an overlord to gain independence, an outlaw king, every lord in the region pledging their loyalty to the king crowned by the people, regardless of birthright, a gold diadem upon their heads as they rode out to battle, only armed with fabric cuirass and chainmail, the call to stand together against an overwhelming number of enemy troops, muddy battlefield where it had rain the night before, telling one of his soldiers to not announce his fatal injury as to not discourage his men, instead, beat the war drums louder, battle of loudoun hill, “if you at first don’t succeed, try, try, and try again.”

AKAASHI KEIJI: ‘the determined’, planning battle strategies in their dreams, shooting balls of fire from trebuchets to pound another kingdom’s brick walls, building walls surrounding the enemy’s kingdom to trap them inside and intentionally letting them starve to death, battles taking place in a forest, the trojan horse, defeating another ruler who has a considerable age gap, a siege that goes on for fifty three days, intended to make chángshēngbùlǎo yào (elixir of life) but ended up inventing gunpowder, both a benevolent ruler and a master of war, battle of hastings, “in my end is my beginning.”

ATSUMU MIYA: ‘the lionheart’, raising a rebellion against one’s own father with a brother, strong arms suited to wield a longsword, a gruesome scar across the face that will haunt the rest of their days, executing traitors and enemies either by the gallows or beheading, insulting their enemies and got captured for it, crusades to recapture the holy land, accidentally invading a neighbouring kingdom (conquest of cyprus), proposing a one-on-one fight to spare the lives of their men, able to fight with a non-dominant hand in case the dominant one gets injured, battle of arsuf, “brave men should either conquer nobly or gloriously die.”

KAGEYAMA TOBIO: ‘the magnificent’, laurel wreaths made from real leaves, not gold, tunic adorned in rich, gold embroideries under the tyrian purple toga, their subjects required to prostrate before him when he’s present in a room, meetings with the senates held in curia julia, abolishing a corrupted system that has burdened the empire for decades, trusted advisors eventually turned traitors mingling in their political court, constructing a colosseum, watching the gladiatorial contest or the naumachia (mock sea battles) every week, owning a majestic golden chariot pulled by the strongest and fastest of white stallions, battle of alesia, “experience is the teacher of all things.”

KENMA KOZUME: ‘the young king’, ascending the throne before coming of age, bloodstains on fallen sakura petals and broken tree branches, torn karuta after an exhausting battle with a stubborn and strong enemy, broken katana blade gleaming under the moonlight and sadly, beyond repair, bloody wounds that never really heal but every single one holds a memory, battles fought near shallow waters of a river, sengoku jidai, hundreds of warships among the coastlines to anticipate any attack from the waters, endless bloody feud between prominent clans, battle of sekigahara, “a clear and innocent conscience fears nothing.”

SEMI EITA: ‘the bold’, magnificent red robe draped behind the shoulders, attaching a talisman representing the goddess of battle and wisdom before he goes out to battle for good luck, ambushing the enemy’s camp at midnight, the sound of horses’ stampede running down a hill accompanied by the screams of their men, face stained in mud and blood, breaching the enemy’s gate with battering-rams as thousands of arrows rain upon them at the same time, the sun shining through the clouds as they celebrate their victory, lavish banquets full of music, food and wine for his soldiers, inviting their enemy to their tent and deciding whether to give them a glass of water or not, first arab siege of constantinople, “death smiles at us all, but all a man can do is smile back.”

SUGAWARA KOUSHI: ‘the good’, age of enlightenment, offering protection to his distant family members who have been betrayed or usurped, fortifying the walls from unexpected sieges by barbarians from the sea, attacking the enemy fleet with greek fire, singing along with their soldiers as they march towards the battlefield to lift their spirits, the marching sounds of their army from behind a hill, heavy rainfall during a battle, soldiers grouping together to form a shield-wall to protect their leader, continuing to stand and fight even after falling from their horse, siege of paris, “fate and history conspired to make me what i am today.”

SHIRABU KENJIROU: ‘the impaler’, swearing revenge against a comrade who betrayed and killed one of their family members, not often engaged in battles but still leading their army from the safety of the capital, using the environment to their advantage to overtake their enemy, impaling traitors and an enemy’s entire army’s head on a pike and put them on display along the castle’s walls, demoralizing their enemies by showing symbols, singing, and beating drums, walking through piles of dead enemies’ bodies, disguising a lavish dinner feast with a goal to capture all of his traitorous boyars, sacking their enemy’s kingdom if they refuse to surrender, trapping the enemy’s troops by forming a shield-wall while pushing their spears towards them, night attack at târgoviște, “a man’s greatest joy is crushing his enemies.”

MONIWA KANAME: ‘the kind’, forming a decision to never execute people during their reign, developing plans to improve the empire’s agriculture, inventing new weapons to easily overwhelm enemies, marching through a desert with all of his troops just to make a peace treaty, would rather form a diplomatic alliance than waste his men to meaningless bloody wars, establishing sīchóu zhīlù (silk road), the tang dynasty (also known as the ‘golden age’), wanting to build the greatest wall the world has ever seen, a humble ruler the empire has ever had but still holds justice in the highest regard, battle of huoyi, “endure what is difficult to endure and to suffer what is difficult to suffer.”

reblogs are appreciated! ✦

© 2021 | all work & content posted belongs to iwakusa. do not under any circumstances modify or repost.

#oikawa tooru #kageyama tobio #akaashi keiji #atsumu miya #kenma kozume #sugawara koushi #moniwa kaname #koganegawa kanji #shirabu kenjirou #semi eita #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! setters #— [ rami.writes ] #🖤.haikyuu!! setters #🖤.oikawa tooru #🖤.akaashi keiji #🖤.kageyama tobio #🖤.kenma kozume #🖤.sugawara koushi #🖤.atsumu miya #🖤.koganegawa kanji #🖤.semi eita #🖤.kaname moniwa #🖤.shirabu kenjirou

[cat-soda]

somewhat lacking the heart

written for @meroniaevent​ day 2: reunion

⚠ warnings for: implied self harm, suicide mention

---

They say you can meet the dead in your dreams. Near tries to keep dreaming for as long as possible.

---

“You’re here again.”

Near turns over, raising his hand to touch the scarred skin of Mello’s cheek. He drinks in the sight of him: piercing blue eyes turned soft with sleep, blonde hair bunching against the pillow underneath his head, scar ridged and shiny when he stretches his arm around Near’s waist and pulls him close enough that they’re sharing the same breath. Near memorizes all of it, stores it away, and continues on staring. “I am,” he says. Then, “I missed you.”

“What do you think you’re accomplishing by doing this?” asks Mello after a long moment. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes, breaking the tentative warmth between them as he abruptly stands.

Near closes his own. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. This, Near. You’re running away.”

He smiles wryly, looking up at the blonde. He watches the way Mello turns like he’s been struck, how his nostrils flare when Near says, “You would know so much about that, wouldn’t you, Mello?”

His voice comes out strangled. “That was different.”

Near finally sits up, still smiling as he curls his finger around a strand of hair. “Was it? Curious.”

“It was. Near,” Mello says, beginning to pace across the room. A note of desperation colors his tone. “Near, this, right now? It’s not real.”

“I know that. I’m not delusional.”

He stops. “No, you’re just suicidal.”

Having gone very still, Near’s smile drops as Mello’s words hang in the air like a particularly putrid stench. Near then asks, with a certain steel to his words, “Are you done?” They hold each other’s gazes, defiant and challenging— before Near takes note of the time and deflates. They never do seem to have enough time. “...Mello,” he says quietly. “It’s only sleep. It’s only dreaming.” (Was it really dreaming if he could read the clock?) He reaches out a hand to him. Holding out an olive branch. “Come back to bed, Mihael. Please.”

The fight slips from his shoulders and Mello sits back down, slowly, eventually joining Near under the covers. He brushes strands of white hair out of Near’s face, caressing his cheek with the palm of his hand. Mutters a reluctant truce: “Alright.”

But, just when they’d both settled, curled into each other, Near finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. “No. I’m not ready to…” mourn you again. He buries his face into the crook of Mello’s neck and leaves the thought unspoken.

Mello sighs, running a soothing hand down his arm. “Go. I’ll still be here the next time around.”

“‘s a promise…” Near catches one last blurred glimpse of him before finally falling asleep. --- He wakes to the beeping of a heart monitor. A quick glance around the dimly-lit room shows Rester sitting in a chair against the wall, fast asleep with his head hanging down; otherwise, the hospital room was empty. Visiting hours were over.

(Or maybe it was just that no one had bothered to visit.)

He sighs, eyes listlessly drifting towards the ceiling.

It’s cold.

---

a/n: *shows up five days late with starbucks* what’d i miss?

i said implied self harm and idk if that really came across, but ah. oh well. better to be too cautious than not at all, right? ...and this ficlet like kinda fills the prompt lol.

the title came from the song kokoronashi by papiyon, which. like. idk if it fits per se, but listening to it on repeat helped me write this!! (the three covers i listened to: sou, will, marie) oh, and here are the translator’s notes from the song’s wiki page: 

“the title ‘kokoronashi’, written in these kanji 心做し, is an expression meaning 'somehow’ or 'somewhat’. but it’s interesting to note that when written like 心なし, it means 'a lack of judgement’ and when like 心無し, it means 'without a heart’ (literally). so there’s a pretty cool play on words there.” (x) 

and i took that to be like “without a heart” → “lacking in courage,” haha. okay i’m done, sorry for the long end note! i hope you enjoyed reading this!!

#meronia #meroniaevent #death note #suicide tw #self harm #nothing serious just a word or two #i'm gonna go cry over hw now #pls send me thoughts and prayers as I struggle thru it 💝🥺 #dn #my writing #wow that's actually a really long end note i'm so sorry everyone

[iconsumeheadcanons]

P4 x P5 crossover

there are very slight p5r spoilers but its kinda just using some lines from the bad end like just a little ref...so up to you i guess :p

Ren (our protag) goes home to Inaba with Mona. Kinda connected to my other headcanons: his ‘family’ includes his mother, his step-dad, his younger half-brother (step bro? idk), and his twin brother Akira. Akira usually lives with their mother’s ex husband, but something is going on court-wise that he has been deemed unfit for child care, which is why Akira is back with his mother. For now Akira sleeps in the room where his father used to practice tea ceremonies.

The twins kinda reconnect but things are very different and they didn’t have contact at all last year so Ren is surprised to see Akira. Ren is still kinda (not) dealing with all of the stuff from the last very many months, and Akira is still kinda not dealing with how messed up things are with his dad and the fact that he’s pretty sure his brother is The Phantom Thief but absolutely no one in the Amamiya household will acknowledge it so he feels like he’s going crazy. Especially the weird cat Ren brought back home that he keeps talking to.

Anyway, Akira’s not really going to school and Ren’s going to Yasogami (the high school he didn’t get expelled from) so Akira doesn’t know what is going on until he comes back from his part-time to see his mother and her husband arguing over the whereabouts of Ren. Apparently he skipped school that day. Ren doesn’t come home that night and the adults argue over calling the police since Ren won’t answer his phone. Akira avoids them and instead searches Ren’s bedroom for his cat or any sign that he might’ve packed up and left. He finds neither so he goes to bed and tries to remind himself that Ren survived in Tokyo kinda on his own and that this is not the first time he’s gone off to be stupid.

Ren still doesn’t show up at school or the house the next day. Step-dad wants to call the police because Ren is missing and he’s causing trouble and stress for the family. (“Clearly last year taught him nothing.”). Mother doesn’t want to call the police because she’s tired of police stuff and she doesn’t want this kind of stuff to keep affecting their family. Mostly she’s worried about how this will affect her youngest son. She’s losing the argument mostly because she’s losing conviction in herself as a ‘good mother’. 

Akira can’t handle their argument so he goes upstairs and finds Morgana trying to paw open the sliding door of Ren’s bedroom and meowing a whole lot. Akira opens the door for the kitty wondering if the talkative kitty just wants to sleep in Ren’s room like usual. Instead the cat paws at Ren’s laptop. Akira opens it and stares at the very intelligent looking animal. Mona unlocks the laptop (“Wait--is that his password?! That’s stupid as hell.” “Meow...”) and tries to get Akira to do something but Akira is mostly shocked so Mona uses a pen on paper to write, “Video Futaba.”

Akira doesn’t know who Futaba is, but he follows Mona’s instructions. He doesn’t find a Futaba in Ren’s contacts but Mona gestures at the one called ‘lil sis :3c’ so Akira calls.

In Tokyo, Futaba’s on a people-watching walk with Yusuke late afterschool when she gets a video call from the recent ghost Ren. She asks the person who she thinks is her pseudo brother where he's been and if he’s all good, but Mona jumps in before Akira can say anything and Mona starts talking away. Curious about the existence of a twin brother that they never knew existed before but more concerned for Ren’s safety, Futaba and Yusuke ask Akira to convince the adults to NOT call the police because Ren will definitely freak out while they call the rest of the group together to figure out what they can do. Futaba says she hasn’t been able to track Ren at all in the past two days and she’s worried he’s gone somewhere service doesn’t matter (like the metaverse). Akira tentatively asks if they and Morgana are part of the Phantom Thieves and Futaba’s like, “Duhhhhh,” and Yusuke very intimidatingly informs Akira not to get the authorities involved in any manner. Futaba says they’ll call back in an hour and hangs up, so Akira decides to get right to work (bc Phantom thieves can be very scary even if they arent trying).

Downstairs Akira tries to appeal with emotions. He warns the adults how calling the police to find Ren will not end well because Ren has had so many bad experiences already and anything that happens will not help Ren try to stay out of more trouble. Step-dad is mad that Ren wouldn’t trust law enforcement and Mother is just so-so tired of the whole mess. Akira doesn’t normally stand up against bullshit (normally Ren’s thing) but Akira is done with this so he’s like, “Of course he doesn’t trust the police! He’s the Leader of the Phantom Thieves and the police put him in fucking solitary! He’s never gonna trust you again after this either!” something like that.

Step-dad and mom are upset and they say Ren was doing the wrong things as a Phantom blah blah. Akira argues that the Thieves exposed bad people including the wrong-doings in the government where the law enforcement works, but the adults won’t hear it so Akira stops talking, turns and grabs a jacket, and leaves the house. It’s late, it’s raining, and Mona follows behind even when Akira climbs on his bike to go out and try to find Ren by himself.

The two end up at Samegawa after checking under bridges, mostly soaked and irritated when they spot a group of people up on the road with three umbrellas. Souji and Yosuke, Yukiko and Chie, and Kanji and Teddie are strolling around, hanging out, and what-not when they spot a teenager, a cat, and a ruined bike by the water. Souji goes down to help them because of course, and everyone follows because of course. Akira recognises like half of them and he’s wary these random adults just seem to bypass the distrust in the air by collectively worrying over him and his poor poor kitty.  

Teddie thinks he recognizes the teen because he’s like, “Ren-kun? Why aren’t you at work today! You abeardoned me to unpack the freezer by my lonesome!” And Akira stares because he didn’t know Ren works at Junes. Yosuke tries to hop in but Akira cuts them off and explains that Ren has been missing for two days and he’s trying to find him before the police get involved. If these adults want to help out so bad then maybe they can look for Ren too. Yosuke and Teddie get confused though because they both saw Ren at work yesterday. The rest of the adults also mention seeing him around town yesterday as well, including when they went into Junes before they…

Akira is confused about all the glances they give each other, but Yukiko quickly catches on and asks if Akira thinks Ren might have been stalking them, and Akira gets offended. (Yukiko wasn’t making a serious accusation, she was just trying to distract Akira from the fact that they almost admitted to the existence of the TV World.) Chie asks what would be wrong with calling the police, and Akira says, “Bad experience,” ready to ditch these random people and continue his search, but Yosuke goes wide-eyed and urges Akira to wait. Yosuke clearly understands some of what Akira meant and says they’ll help out, especially since they were the last to see Ren.

They go to Junes where Yosuke unlocks the back door (after Kanji searches around any place in the area that delinquents like to hide. It’s raining too much for anyone to be out.) They check the worker room to look through any of Ren’s stuff. They don’t find anything weird until Souji points out that Ren signed into work yesterday but never signed out. Now that doesn’t indicate everything, but the weird hours he worked yesterday do, mostly because they line up with the time that the group went to Junes yesterday. Chie investigates on the security footage and finds video of Ren sneakily following the group around the department store until they finally end up at...the electronics section.

All the adults + Teddie get real quiet and Akira and Morgana get real angry about all the silence. Akira asks why the camera is angled so weird over the TVs, and why the adults had gone into the electronic section and had not come out until an hour later, or why they don’t see footage of his brother away he followed them into the TV area. No one says anything right away so he asks if they hurt him or if they did something magic to them, like put him some place where his team couldn’t track him. Kanji jumps up to defend them all to say they didn’t even know Ren was actually following them and that they would never hurt a kid, but of course Akira has many reasons to not believe a stranger, so they’re both very tense. Souji tries to stop the fighting when suddenly the old CR in the room turns on.

P5R spoilers sorta!!! But the Midnight Channel shows an Asia-based fantasy world where Ren (with horns because you know he would want them) is in a version of Leblanc soaking dishes in a pail of water when Sojiro (plain but nice human) walks over and mentions that he wishes Ren wouldn’t have to go back to his hometown. Ren asks to stay forever and Sojiro agrees, talking about how happy their little weird family is now. They tease each other over the honesty, but they both look happy. The Midnight Channel shows this like a scene in a drama and the camera does a close up of Ren’s genuine happiness until there are sudden distorted voices telling their vile prisoner to focus. The camera pans out to show Ren alone in a dark, gross, blue prison cell wearing ragged clothes and his hands bound behind him. Someone opens a cell door, and judging by Ren’s unmasked trepidation, whatever follows next will not be good. The clip ends with an echoing slam of the bar doors behind the visitor.

In the darkness following the end of the clip, the IT members all freak out over the recurrence of the whole thing while Akira numbly checks his phone . He didn’t realise he had gotten messages, but they are all from someone who is somehow in his phone as Alibaba. The messages are asking where the hell is he and that there better not be police involved and that the only reason he shouldn’t be looking at his phone is because he fell asleep or something. Judging by the (loud, knowing) reactions around him and Morgana scratching at the door, Akira thinks he understands what is going on and why that Phantom Thief said that she hadn’t been able to track Ren. Akira leaves a message that says, “I think I know where he is,” and then he turns to the others and says that it's obviously some sort of magic that they know about and if they won’t help him out further, than he and his brother’s magic cat will do it on their own.

Of course that is a problem so the IT goes nonono we’ll do this this is our job let’s go, and Akira successfully swindled the IT into shutting up and helping. They all go inside the TV where Morgana can stand on two legs, Teddie is in a bearsuit, and the world is gorgeous and bright. The IT gets straight to work, Teddie sniffing, everyone putting on glasses, and trying to explain things to Mona and Akira. They don’t have to explain much because Mona understands most of it already and he’ll likely ask Lady Lavenza later. Akira is so confused about talking cat-shaped embodiment of hope and this entire night, so Souji urges them to focus on at least finding Ren. 

Teddie can only confirm that someone is in the World, just not who or where, so they need more info. Chie suggests leaving for the night and coming back with more info or maybe sleep? Guys? But Akira is worried out of his shit and Morgana is angry at Ren for running off so they start saying as much as they can think of. Akira mentions Ren’s obsession (big ol’ crush) with Naoto when they were in middle school (to everyone’s great discomfort), Ren’s average grades, and Ren’s favorite color. Mona mentions that Ren is a phantom thief (to the IT’s great surprise) and that recently they had a...disagreement.

Two days ago, Ren decided to skip school. Morgana had said that if he didn’t keep his grade up and/or his attendance, Ren would get in trouble and his mom would never let him go back to see everyone in Tokyo. Ren, who had been oddly quiet and down the past few days, suddenly got angry and said if Morgana wanted to go back to everyone so bad, then he should have never followed Ren to Inaba. Morgana said he came home with Ren to watch over him and keep him out of trouble, but Ren said there was no trouble that he hadn’t gotten into already and that he doesn’t need anyone breathing down his neck. Mona got pissed and asked why Ren wouldn’t want him (his roommate for a whole year!!) here when no one else was friendly, but Ren didn’t answer and left.

Morgana hadn’t seen Ren since they argued, and he didn’t understand why Ren had been so angry all of a sudden, but Akira realized quickly. Yes, the twins aren’t very close anymore, but Akira says that Ren won’t ever ask for help even from people he trusts. Ren stands up for others all the time, but rarely does anything for himself. When their parents divorced and the twins were split up, Ren only got mad for Akira’s sake. Ren definitely doesn’t see Inaba as home anymore (maybe not even since Akira and Dad left), but he’d rather send a friend home (his REAL home) than both deal with his feelings and drag friends into it.

This is plenty of info for Teddie but before they go Souji reassures Mona and Akira that they’ll find Ren, help him talk, and help him be some place where he’ll be happy and supported. (Souji works as a social worker so kids can find homes like he did when he came to Inaba.) They all set off in a direction and they find what seems to be a fantasy village of similar looks to the clip from the Mayonaka TV. Morgana starts to recognise some of the streets as streets in Yongenjaya so he leads the way to the street Leblanc is on. They get interrupted by the guy who owns the second-hand shop. He starts talking to Akira and Mona like he knows them (he’s assuming they were hit by a witch’s spell that changed their appearances) and says he’ll always give them a discount for everything they do for the community. 

This is confusing wording so Mona points out that the man sells them materials for tools when they can’t get enough from the Metaverse. The man shouldn’t know what Ren does with those tools. Souji points out that this area they’re in does not seem to be wealthy, so maybe their Phantom Thievery has supported the area. They head to Leblanc to investigate more.  

#thats all i have so far #my writing #..kinda #p5 #persona 5 #im soso sorry if read more doesnt work 4 u #i didnt think it would be this long #wip #ren #boop.txt

[livefreeordie13]

❛ you screamed the whole time, not sure if that’s good or bad. ❜ - Leggy

leggy! i wanted this one to be flirty and cute and oops? it’s a bit long, but i tried to keep you in mind when writing it! i hope you enjoy it, my friend.

warnings: light angst (happy ending) | mentions of sex | sexual language | nudity

(Two of Us)

While it was true that Yu Narukami had not considered the bustling city of Tokyo to be his “home” since he’d discovered life in the small town of Inaba, he was beginning to realize that his understanding of the word may have been a tad askew. 

To his credit, the thought of Yosuke showing up at his parents’ high-rise apartment after dinner on a weeknight had been distinctly absent from his determination of what “home” could mean. Yet, here they both were, snuggled in his large bed in Tokyo, their breaths still lifting fast from their chests, Yosuke’s arm draped over Yu’s middle, and Yu had rarely felt more at peace. 

The warm, weighted tingle in their limbs thrummed softly, made every touch to skin transcendent and sublime. Yu could feel Yosuke’s breath fill his lungs, the frantic pace of his heart, and this was always his favorite part - more even than being inside of him, than the electric kisses that got him ready faster than any movie or mag ever had, more than the crescendo of sensations rippling over his skin. It was this: the tranquility in the afterwards, the high at the bottom of the ocean, holding someone he could give everything to, and had. 

All that was in Yu’s head was how comfortable he was. Their skin was sticky with sweat and Yosuke’s looked downright golden against the low, yellow light in his bedroom. He looked perfect, Yu thought, as sated and euphoric as Yu had always dreamed their time together would be. 

Yu tipped his head down a pinch and pecked Yosuke’s nose with his lips. He was still trying to catch his breath, really, but Yosuke looked too cute to leave alone. 

Yosuke blinked his eyes open and almost immediately rolled them. He used his elbow to lift himself some, just enough to scoot over to Yu and give him a “proper” kiss, with lips and teeth, and Yu hummed happily into it, as always. 

When Yosuke had had enough of Yu’s lips, he bumped their noses and smiled, his large wet mouth a bit wicked to the untrained eye. “Good surprise, huh?” 

“I’ll say.” Yu leaned up for a soft, slow kiss. “You screamed the whole time … not sure if that’s good or bad,” he teased, lifting an eyebrow. 

Yosuke balked and dropped his head into the crook of Yu’s neck. When he lifted it, his face had regained its flush. “I wasn’t screaming,” he insisted, then his smile turned dark and sultry. He lowered down for a nip of Yu’s lips. “I had to take advantage of an empty house,” he said with a shrug. “We’ve never had an opportunity to bang like this before. I feel like we’re on a remote island or something.” 

Yu would have argued that the cramped confines of a Tokyo apartment compared to the sprawl of rural houses made Yosuke’s point laughably false, but then … Yu’s apartment was pretty big. It was entirely possible that no one had heard them. (He doubted it, though.)

Yu chuckled. “We’ll see about that in the morning.” 

He leaned up for another kiss, but Yosuke suddenly frowned and dropped his head. 

“Morning,” he groaned. 

Yu was silent for a few seconds at that, his fingers tentatively wrapping a strand of Yosuke’s hair around his finger. His swallow sounded loud in the stillness between them. “… What time do you have to go back?” 

Yosuke sighed and lifted his head, then he kissed Yu again with a sorry look on his face. “Early. Pretty sure my parents would freak if I missed school. They think I’m at Kanji’s.”

Yu felt his stomach drop. “You shouldn’t lie to them, Yosuke.”

“I know.” He frowned again. “I just really wanted to see you.” As Yosuke rounded the sentence, Yu didn’t miss the sheen in his eyes, how it glistened against the light. Yosuke was biting the inside of his mouth. 

Yu got it; he did. 

“I know.” He hoped his voice sounded softer than it felt, burdened by the pang of loneliness he could already feel manifest in his stomach at Yosuke’s absence. “Remember though, I’ll be down this weekend.” 

“Yeah,” Yosuke smiled, his mouth pulled to one side. His face had instantly brightened. 

One glance into those round, optimistic eyes had Yu feeling it, too. “So no more midnight train rides until then.”

“Yeah,” Yosuke whispered, as he leaned down for another round. 

Yu raised his hand up to cup Yosuke’s cheek, to let his fingers card through Yosuke’s hair. He pressed their mouths together again, parted them, rolled them both over until Yosuke was pinned delightfully beneath him and the song in their hearts filled the room and for the second time that night, he brought Yosuke home.

#work #souyo #two of us #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #sentence starters #yes the title is a beatles song ok; do not judge me

[ahkaraii]

Rarepair generator: Zabuza & Kisame (1600 words)

Kisame is the first to sniff him out among the mountain of corpses that litter the ruins of the Academy. It’s easy because, the closer he gets, the thicker the miasma of killing intent becomes. Like a cornered dog kicked too many times, the class-killer growls low in warning, black eyes wide and bloodshot.

A total runt, Kisame thinks disappointedly.

“Congratulations,” Kisame says instead, and drops a freshly pressed towel and a water bottle at the feet of the boy in question. “You are now officially the youngest ninja of the Hidden Village of the Mist.” He looks around gamely. “Seems like you’ll stay that way for a while, too, seeing as you killed all the competition.”

The kid is stiff and silent but clearly hungry. He scrabbles over for the water bottle and drowns it in a rush, his thin neck pulsating with every swallow.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Kisame asks.

“Don’t have one,” the kid rasps, revealing filed teeth. A bastard of some Hozuki, most likely.

“An orphan, huh...” Kisame looks at that emaciated body and does some quick mental math. “You’re not even an academy student, are you?”

The kid has the audacity to flash him a sneering grin. “Now, no one is.”

“Hm,” Kisame says. "We might have a problem.”

--

They have a problem.

They’re at war with half the elemental countries and already bleeding soldiers faster than they can breed them, and now a whole generation of up-and-comings have been eliminated by an insolent upstart with no family to take the fall for it all. The Mizukage is, understandably, pissed the fuck off.

But maybe it’s a sign the runt’s gonna be destined for great things ‘cause he’s the reason the Mizukage finally does away with the Hidden Mist’s infamous graduation exam. Kisame’s not particularly glad of it -- he killed his classmates and came out all the stronger for it, in his opinion -- but he’s smart enough not to question it.

Then, shockingly, after ten years of ceaselessly hunting down those with a bloodline limit due to a failed coup composed of the very same, the Mizukage relents and orders that no further harm may come to them. Indeed, they are encouraged to reveal themselves and join the war effort. 

Terumi Mei-san’s ecstatic, of course, until the next order comes down the pipeline: all women of child-bearing age are to produce a child for the good of the country, effective immediately. She fucking hates it, but she loves her country more, so she asks Kisame if he’d do her the honour and he shrugs and says sure. They’ve had sex before and it was good so what if now it’s under orders?

(In the end, it’s a rotten way to find out she’s infertile.)

--

In retrospect, the runt’s probably spared for the same reasons. They can no longer afford to mindlessly kill their own, not with the rest of the world doing it for them. The Mizukage has Kisame interrogate him just long enough to beat the truth out of him: how had he done it?

“It was easy,” the boy had said, spitting blood. “I just convinced them all to kill each other.”

The kid’s got guts, if nothing else.

--

The Mizukage gifts him to Biwa Juuzo-san, after. To break, to eat, or to raise, it’s his call. Poor bastard.

--

The next time Kisame meets the kid, he’s been given the name Zabu, which, according to Juuzo’s hodgepodge kanji, appears to mean Failure. Despite the moniker, however, Juuzo seems to like the kid. Perhaps a bit too much, Kisame thinks, but he keeps that to himself.

“Well, if it’s isn’t Mr. Waterbottle,” the runt says, flashing a mouthful of teeth. “I never caught your name, big guy.”

“Hoshigaki Kisame,” he says. “Good to see you well, Zabu-san.”

“Hah! San!” The kid barks out a pleased laugh. “I like the sound of that!”

Juuzo promptly backhands him to the ground. “Mind your manners, boy! He’s Fuguki’s tool, a weapon of the Seven Swordsman.”

The kid spits blood like it’s a well practiced motion. “Just like I’m yours, huh?”

“He’s not housebroken yet,” Juuzo apologizes. “Orphans. You know how they are.”

Housebroken or not, Zabu’s a well honed weapon. He keeps up with them without complaint, and kills on command with no hesitation. At night, he retreats into Juuzo’s tent like a kunai would to a holster, sharp end first.

--

Being as they are both subordinates to two of the infamous seven Swordmen of the Mist, they see a fair amount of each other over the next couple of years. Zabu stretches out like ninja wire, thin and sharp and nigh unbreakable. His eyes gets sharper and crueler until all that’s left of that cocky-mouthed runt is his odd charisma, the very same that helped him convince a hundred little boys and girls to rip each other to pieces.

“Our country could be so much greater,” he says. “Don’t you think, Hoshigaki?”

Kisame eyes him carefully. To speak against the Mizukage is akin to suicide, and he himself has killed men for less. “What are you getting at?”

Zabu’s eyes glint oddly in the firelight. “The country of Wind is dry, infertile. The land of Earth, selfsame. But ours is rich with rivers and wetland. We eat each other for lack of food, when we could be feeding ourselves rice and barley.”

How the years have changed this street rat to a philosopher, Kisame does not know. But he finds it amusing, nonetheless.

“You wish to become a farmer, Zabu-san?”

The brat grins sharp and jagged. “Nah,” he says. “Tools don’t dream of anything.”

--

Then some fucking green-ass genin from the Leaf goes and kills six of the seven Swordsmen, rendering them an international laughingstock and blowing whatever prestige it was to wield those swords out of the water and into the frying pan, because now they’re a bleeding fish out at sea, and all the world’s a shark ready to devour them whole.

To make matters worse, Fuguki-san has the fucking indecency of surviving the ordeal long enough to betray them to the Leaf, so Kisame’s the very last to inherit his sword, and by that time, he’s already lost any such illusion about his country being in any way capable of becoming greater than absolute zero.

--

Zabu, now sole master of the massive Kubikiribōchō, officially adds a third kanji to his name that means He Who Beheads. Kisame wonders if it’s a petty way of forcing the whole world to address him with respect even if they don’t want to, because Zabuzan sounds pretty fucking close to Zabu-san to his ears. He doesn’t say anything about that, though.

And when ‘Zabuza-san’ brings back a street rat he picked up from some godforsaken village and declares it his own personal tool, Kisame doesn’t say anything about that, either. Privately he thinks Juuzo would be rolling in his grave, if he had any.

Mei then lets it slip that Zabuza is planning a coup, gathering followers and inspiring rebellion. Kisame is surprised by how unsurprised he is, and wholly unengaged. Years ago his first gut reaction would’ve been violence, a dog trained to defend his Mizukage even when his master was fucking insane, but now his heart’s not in it. He just doesn’t give a shit.

Kisame doesn’t stick around to watch the fallout. He strikes a line through his headband and fucks off.

Mei’s devastated, of course, but she loves her country more, and it’s only by the grace of Samehada that Kisame makes it out alive. He wonders, as he leaves her bleeding, what their child would have looked like.

It probably would have died in the womb, Kisame thinks, and thinks on it no more.

--

They meet again as missing nin, years later. Zabuza’s coup failed and he left the country; Kisame left the country and joined a coup. How fate plays tricks on fools, Kisame thinks.

“Zabu-san,” Kisame says politely. “Good to see you well.”

Zabuza grins. “You too, big guy.”

Zabuza’s still being accompanied by his street rat, who he creatively named White Snow. The kid’s smooth where Zabuza is sharp, polite where Zabuza is rude, and is, overall, disgustingly saccharine with the man. And they’re clearly more than just a weapon to Zabuza, but Mist has never raised a child that knew how to love before they knew how to kill.

“Me and Haku are mercenaries,” Zabuza says. “For now.” He explains that they’re traveling around, gathering funds and followers across the elemental countries, with the ultimate goal of killing the mad Mizukage once and for fucking all. “We’re gonna make Water Country great again,” he says, and Kisame is reminded of Mei, of her unwavering love of the country Kisame has lost all loyalty to, and then Zabuza goes and says, “will you join us, Mr. Waterbottle?”

He really is a charming piece of shit, Kisame thinks fondly.

He doesn’t join them, but he does pledge his funds to Zabuza’s cause. And if he takes what payment Akatsuki gives him and deviates them to his old comrade in search of a better world, then no one has to know.

--

He hears of Zabuza’s death from his partner Uchiha Itachi. Apparently Itachi’s little brother and his team blew a hole through Haku’s heart and Zabuza died of heartbreak. The irony is not lost on Kisame.

“I am sorry,” Itachi says.

“Nah,” Kisame says. “We weren’t close.” Later, he says, “he wanted to be a farmer, I think.”

#karaii fic #would their pairing name be #kisazabu #? #tagging also for #zabuhaku #kisamei #kisaita #there's no sex btw this is pretty gen #(all my drabbles seem to be gen lmao) #content warnings for implied child abuse tho

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Timeline data hunting 6

A tentative timeline for the first two months of the story.

Golden Kamuy has unclear timeline as Noda never write in what month the story is happening or a definite date. However he left some hints.

Taking them into consideration I’ve collected what happens in the supposed first two months of the story (February and March) and divided it in days. What does this mean?

As I can’t know whcih day is it I’ve labelled the days merely as ‘DAY 1′, ‘DAY 2′ and so on. This doesn’t necessarily mean ‘DAY 1′ is also the 1st day of the month or that ‘DAY 2′ is the day after ‘DAY 1′, it’s just ‘DAY 1′ is the first day we saw for that month and ‘DAY 2′ is the second day we saw for that month.

Also, not always we can guess if a day came to its end or not. When I’m unsure if new happenings happened in the same day or in a day after it I’ll labell them as, for example, if I’m not sure if an event happened in ‘DAY 2′ or in the day after it I’ll label it ‘DAY 2 A’.

Sorry, I fear it isn’t a perfect system but it’s the best I could think about.

By the way it’s speculated Golden Kamuy started in 1907 however the bank Hijikata assaulted was built in 1908 so it can also be Golden Kamuy took place in 1908.

Noda said he wouldn’t be too strict about this sort of things so it’s possible that this isn’t relevant, however I thought it was worth to mention it.

Late February: [‘When she first appeared, Asirpa was bringing snowshoes to walk on hardened snow. The Ainu have another kind of snowshoes for walking on soft, deep snow. It’s the one on the left. It’s in about late February when temperature slightly rises and snow hardens. Isn’t it what happened in book volume 1? The phenomenon of ice cracking also happens in February.’ (Noda Satoru blog post: Seasons and the passing of time in Golden Kamuy)]

DAY 1: A drunk Goto tells Sugimoto about the legend of the gold but, when he sobers up, tries to kill Sugimoto because now he knows too much. Sugimoto though beats him up so Goto escapes. Sugimoto, now interested in the gold, pursues him only to discover he was killed by a bear. Sugimoto himself is attacked by a bear as he tries to take away the body and is saved by Asirpa. He tells her the story of the gold to persuade her to help him against the bear and she agrees as one of the men involved was her father. After the two kill the other bear Sugimoto persuades her to join him in his gold hunt. [Chap 1-2]

DAY 2: After searching in Otaru information on the convicts Sugimoto and Asirpa manages to capture one but the convict is then killed by Ogata. Ogata and Sugimoto fight each other, Sugimoto breaks his arm and is about to kill him when Asirpa stops him. Due to this Ogata figures out who Sugimoto is and manages to escape but Sugimoto causes him to fall in the river and assumed dead. Ogata instead, despite having also broken his jaw in the fall, manages to survive and is found by the 7th. [Chap 3-5]

DAY 3: Sugimoto and Asirpa capture Shiraishi, who however manages to escape. Sugimoto chases him and the two end in a river. They’re forced to join forces to survive and this lead Shiraishi to give Sugimoto some information about how the convicts escaped before leaving him.  Meanwhile Tsurumi is informed Ogata had regained consciousness and pays him a visit. Ogata though can’t speak due to his broken jaw and so, with his finger, writes the kanji for ‘immortal’. The day ends with Sugimoto and Asirpa eating the hare they caught while dealing with Shiraishi. Sugimoto adds Miso to his food and Asirpa, exchanging it for Osoma (poop) expresses her disgust for it. [Chap 6-8]

DAY 3A: Tamai asks Tanigaki which side would he join, if Tsurumi’s or the side of those who are against Tsurumi’s [Chap 44]

DAY 4: Tamai, Okada, Noma and Tanigaki, searching for who attacked Ogata, begin to chase Sugimoto and Asirpa. In order to escape them Sugimoto and Asirpa part ways. Tanigaki chases Asirpa and discovers she has a tattooed skin but is then attacked by Retar that breaks his leg and causes him to fall unconscious. Sugimoto instead causes Tamai, Okada and Noma to be attacked by a bear. Neither them nor the bear will survive and Sugimoto will take with himself the bear cub before joining Asirpa. Asirpa will tell him Tanigaki is dead and will take him to his village where he becomes her grandmother’s guest. Meanwhile Tanigaki has woken up, has immobilized his broken leg with a splint and has decided to start hunting Retar. In Asirpa’s village, Asirpa’s grandmother expresses the wish Sugimoto were to marry Asirpa. Sugimoto then meets Osoma and lears the Ainu customs about baby bears. [Chap 8-12]

DAY 4A: In the evening Hijikata tracks Ushiyama while he’s spending the night with a whore. Ushiyama, understanding the woman betrayed him, hurt her. Hijikata persuades Ushiyama to join forces with him. [Chap 12]

DAY 5: Makanakkuru and Sugimoto talk together. Sugimoto later eats with Asirpa and her grandmother and tries to offer Miso to the old woman, angering Asirpa. [Chap 13]

DAY 5A: While searching for Tamai and Co Tsurumi is joined by Wada and Tsukishima. Wada blames Tsurumi for stealing weapons from Asahikawa and causing a man to end up in serious conditions in hospital while 4 are now lost and would like for him to leave the army. Tsurumi bites Wada’s finger off. Wada would like for Tsukishima to kill Tsurumi but Tsukishima kills Wada instead and Tsurumi orders to bury Wada secretly. [Chap 14]

1907 (?) (March): [‘In volume three, Asirpa &co eat the maple sap that has seeped out and formed icicle. They also drink water from vines. And Asirpa wears shoes for walking on solid snow. From that depiction, it should be around March. Please read it believing that it’s turned to March since a long time ago in the second volume.’ (Noda Satoru blog post: Seasons and the passing of time in Golden Kamuy)]

DAY 1: Sugimoto and Asirpa capture and eat a river otter. Afterward Asirpa is asked to play with the other children at the village and explains to Sugimoto how the kisarri works. During the night, while Asirpa is asleep, Makanakkuru tells Sugimoto about Retar then leaves carrying with himself Osoma. Asirpa’s grandmother, in Ainu language, asks Sugimoto to always be there for Asirpa. Sugimoto doesn’t understand what she says but assumes he does. Late in the night he leaves Asirpa’s house, deciding he doesn’t want to involve her in the search for the gold as it could be too dangerous. [Chap 14]

DAY 2: Discovering Sugimoto is missing Asirpa searches for him, planning to use Retar to find him, as she believes Sugimoto left behind a sock. In Otaru Sugimoto is informed of how a convict (Ushiyama) has hurt a whore. He goes to the girl’s working place and is offered a bowl of soba but, while he eats the proprietress warns the 7th division. The Nikaido brother’s, along with other soldiers, come searching for him. Sugimoto attacks them, hurting a soldier and the Nikaido brothers before ending up outnumbered. The Nikaido brothers, furious at him, would like to kill him but Tsurumi stops them and brings him to his office, where he claims he has recognized him for ‘Sugimoto the immortal’, the one who hurt Ogata. Sugimoto denies, in the process further enraging the Nikaido brothers. Tsurumi doesn’t believe him and, to prove his point, stabs him with a skewer. As Asirpa decides to wait for the night before searching for Sugimoto in Otaru, Tsurumi asks Sugimoto to join his unit and explains him his plan. Sugimoto refuses and Tsurumi stabs him with more skewers. Retar and Asirpa tracks Shiraishi, the true owner of the sock as he and Sugimoto exchanged them, and force him to help them track Sugimoto. [Chap 15-17]

DAY 3: Past midnight the Nikaido brothers join a captive Sugimoto (Youhei claims he beat Sugimoto’s face the day before), planning to get revenge on him. Sugimoto attacks them breaking Youhei’s tooth before the fight is interrupted by the other 7th division soldiers. Learning about this Tsurumi orders to keep the Nikaido brothers away from Sugimoto while Shiraishi manages to find out Sugimoto is still alive and decides to join forces with them in exchange for some gold. Shiraishi unties Sugimoto but the soldiers guarding Sugimoto’s door leave because Retar caused the horses to grew scared so Youhei try to kill Sugimoto again while Kouhei guards the door. Sugimoto though, manages to kill Youhei then pretends Youhei has managed to fatally wound him as well and promises Tsurumi the tattooed skins if he were to save him. Tsurumi instructs his soldiers to take him to the best hospital in Otaru but then, as he discovers Sugimoto only faked being hurt, Sugimoto get rid of the soldiers accompanying him to the hospital and try to escape. Tsurumi chases him but his horse is killed by Asirpa and so he has to desist. In search of the tattooed skins, Shiraishi sets to fire the 7th barracks but discovers Tsurumi was wearing it. Sugimoto joins Asirpa who hits him in punishment for leaving her. Shiraishi joins them and they kill the horse Sugimoto used to escape, then Shiraishi leaves them to get the ingredients for Sakura Nabe. Sugimoto and Asirpa have a talk and later eat Sakura Nabe with Shiraishi. As they eat Asirpa discovers she loves Miso. [Chap 17-20]

DAY 3A: Nagakura offers his support to Hijikata, giving him his house and weapons as well as money. However he claims to be too old to join Hijikata in his cause. [Chap 20]

DAY 3B: Hijikata sends some messengers to Shibukawa, a convict in Otaru Hijikata knew when he was in Kabato prison and who has around himself a crew of men, but the messengers doesn’t return so Hijikata goes to meet him personally, carrying with himself Ushiyama and 8 men. Shibukawa admits of having killed the messengers after forcing them to talk and Hijikata tosses to him the head of 3 of Shibukawa’s men who were out the place. As Shibukawa would like his remaining men to kill Hijikata, Hijikata kills him first and orders his men to murder all the men under Shibukawa. The group then leaves the place. [Chap 21]

DAY 4: While Shiraishi goes to town to gather info, Sugimoto and Asirpa hunt a deer but Sugimoto only manages to wound it before the deer escapes. Asirpa then sees the tracks of a dog and two men, one of whom is wounded and suspect he could be Tanigaki. She’s right as Tanigaki is currently with Nihei, who hunts and successfully manages to kill a deer. Due to this Tanigaki realizes who Nihei truly is and explains he’s tagging along Nihei because they’re both searching for Retar. Nihei explains him why he wants to hunt Retar, meanwhile Asirpa and Sugimoto track down the deer again but they lose it a second time and have to make a temporary hut to spend the night. Nihei eats with Tanigaki and ears a tiny bit of what’s plaguing Tanigaki. He tells Tanigaki when they’ll kill the wolf Tanigaki should take the pelt and go back home (leaving the army), to which Tanigaki replies by burning his army hat. [Chap 21-23]

DAY 5: Asirpa and Sugimoto keep on hunting the deer while Nihei and Tanigaki keep on hunting Retar and manage to enter in his territory. Sugimoto can’t kill the deer because he sees himself in it, so he’s too slow at shooting and misses it so Retar sends it on the ground and when Sugimoto explains his feelings to Asirpa she kills the deer and scold Sugimoto, saying if he can’t take responsibility he shouldn’t shoot. She then explains him about how the deer is part of the cycle of life. Nihei and Tanigaki hear the shoot and move toward them. Retar warns Asirpa and Sugimoto someone is coming so they only take part of the deer and leave. When Nihei and Tanigaki reach the deer Sugimoto and Asirpa observe them from a hidden spot. Asirpa realizes the soldier is Tanigaki. Nihei suggests Tanigaki to have a bath together. Sugimoto and Asirpa go back to the hut and find Shiraishi. They eat, get drunk then Shiraishi tells them about Nihei being another convict in the area. Meanwhile Tanigaki discovers Nihei is a tattooed convict and is unsure if to arrest him. Asirpa tells Sugimoto and Shiraishi what she knows about Niehi. Nihei also explains Tanigaki how he ended up in jail. Hearing this Tanigaki decides to let him go. Shiraishi instead explains Nihei plans to hunt a wolf, Retar. Nihei and Tanigaki begin guarding the dead deer, waiting for Retar. [Chap 24-26]

DAY 6: Nihei and Tanigaki discover Retar left its feces over the deer so he doesn’t need to come back to guard it from other animals. Sugimoto, Asirpa and Shiraishi hunt Nihei. Nihei and Tanigaki eat the deer and prepare a plan to capture Retar. Nihei then burns Retar’s feces and the smoke is seen by Asirpa and the others. Nihei and Tanigaki part ways, setting a trap for Retar. Sugimoto and Shiraishi leave Asirpa behind and plan to jump on Nihei, who, in the meantime, is about to shoot Retar. Asirpa realizes it and causes Retar to escape, but, doing so, she’s seen by Tanigaki. Meanwhile Sugimoto and Nihei starts fighting, while Ryu tries to stop Shiraishi from shooting Nihei. Shiraishi manages to get rid of Ryu but Tanigaki comes holding Asirpa captive and using her as human shield. Sugimoto and Shiraishi surrender on the promise Nihei won’t let Asirpa see them die. Tanigaki takes Asirpa away, however, as soon as Nihei turns, Sugimoto and Shiraishi escape. Tanigaki is hit by an Amappo and saved by Asirpa. Nihei joins them, re-capture Asirpa and ties her to a tree to drag there Retar. Retar runs there but when Nihei is about to kill him, Retar’s female companion attacks Nihei, cutting his neck. Ryu tries to protect him but it’s too late. Sugimoto and Shiraishi join them when Nihei dies and free Asirpa. They then see Retar has two cubs. Tanigaki reaches them and prays for Nihei then, Asirpa, Shiraishi and Sugimoto take him to Asirpa’s hut for the night. [Chap 26-30]

DAY 7: Asirpa, Sugimoto and Shiraishi take Tanigaki to Asirpa’s village. In the evening, during dinner, Asirpa’s grandmother tells them about how the Ainu collected a lot of gold. Due to this the boys figure the gold is much more than they assumed and Tanigaki confirms saying Tsurumi too had found out about it. At the same time Tsurumi is at Otaru’s port. Sugimoto and Shiraishi discuss on what they know about the incident with the gold and the convicts involved. Shiraishi wonders on Tsurumi’s motivation and Sugimoto suggests they could be the siege of port Arthur. Meanwhile Tsurumi is buying weapons from Thomas. Tanigaki explains the 7th situation and what he belives are Tsurumi’s motivations while Tsurumi talks with his men about his plans. [Chap 30-31]

DAY 8: Sugimoto tells Shiraishi he doesn’t plan to support Tsurumi then Asirpa suggests they’ll go hunt a eagle and set a trap for it. In the night Asirpa tells them the story of a giant eagle before falling asleep. [Chap 31-32]

DAY 9: When Sugimoto wakes up he sees a huge eagle and captures it with the hook but needs Asirpa’s help to kill it. A giant eagle tries to take Asirpa away but Sugimoto manages to stop it. [Chap 32]

DAY 10: Ushiyama is training himself when Hijikata suggests they’ll go to the city. Hijikata, Nagakura, Hijikata’s men and Ushiyama then go to Otaru but Ushiyama parts way from them to go to a brothel. Shiraishi, who was also in the city, tries to enter in the same brothel from which Ushiyama is leaving so Ushiyama tries to catch him but Shiraishi manages to escape. Ushiyama chases him and Shiraishi, meeting some soldiers from the 7th division, among which Nikaido, asks for their help in stopping Ushiyama. At the same time some of Hijikata’s men, join Ushiyama and toss a grenade to help him. The noise attract Tsurumi. One of Hijikata’s men take away Ushiyama, who had gotten shoot by Nikaido, while the other dies. Hijikata’s other men cause an explosion in the brothel next to the bank and are joined by Hijikata. Tsurumi checks the man that dies helping Ushiyama to escape for tattoos then, hearing Tsukishima’s report, understand the true target was the bank, take a horse and runs there. Hijikata, Nagakura and their men are, in fact inside the back, stealing money and recovering Hijikata’s sword. When Tsurumi gets in the bank they’re already outside and Tsurumi only manages to see Hijikata stealing his horse. Shiraishi manages to retrieve from a whore working in the brothel in which Ushiyama entered one of Ushiyama’s socks then goes back to Asirpa’s village where Sugimoto and Asirpa find him, drunk and asleep above Tanigaki. [Chap 33-35]

#Golden Kamuy #Golden Kamuy Timeline

[chroniccombustion]

Caught in the Grey (ch 2)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter ->

The light has changed from dingy blue-grey to anxious pink by the time he realigns himself, creeping along the wall to spill down across the floor. There is a twisting sensation low in his stomach, a burning in the back of this throat. He runs his leaden tongue across his gums and they tingle in response. The ache is still there in every limb, echoed by a shaky feeling that makes his world feel like it’s slipping in and out of solidity.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

Chapter 2: Been a Long Damn Day

“From the beach to the city, I been putting on a face. You’re no stranger to a mask, you ain’t lost or amazed. I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day, I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day…”

- (“Sinking”, Jeremy Zucker)

Shirogane-kun: SOUJI-SENPAI WHERE R U?

Shirogane-kun:  R U OK?

Shirogane-kun: PLS RESPOND

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS I AM WORRIED

4 missed calls from Shirogane-kun

 Aibo: bro u ok? wtf happened?

Aibo: no srsly wth? what was that?

Aibo: prtnr we cant find u where did u go?

Aibo: shit the girls pageant is starting we cant leave

Aibo: not funny bro

Aibo: call me back man cmon ur freakin me out

Aibo: souji?

7 missed calls from Aibo

            14 new messages, 9 missed calls from Kanji-kun, ~*Rise!*~, Amagi Yukiko, Satanaka Chie, TEDDIE

 Souji stares down at the phone in his hand, squinting against the brightness of the screen in the pre-dawn gloom. 5:42am, it reads. Fantastic.

He shifts his weight to lean more against the side of the couch rather than the chilly wall and groans involuntarily when his entire body protests. He’s stiff, cold, and his everything is angry with him for sleeping on the floor. His uniform pants are still on from yesterday, though he has no idea just where his shirt and jacket went – or the flesh-colored bit of fabric that he wears underneath. At some point after running home in a blind, dissociative panic he knows he must have pulled them off because he remembers being shirtless before properly passing out, so, theoretically, they must be in the room with him somewhere. He doesn’t have the energy to look.

As long as his pants are still on.

As exhausted as he is, (mentally, physically, emotionally,) he knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep at this rate. He can’t work up the energy to pull out the futon or change into real pajamas, and besides, he’d just have to get right back up for school again soon after. His body aches too much to let him relax anyway.

So Souji sits there, folded over on himself in the corner between the couch and wall, and doesn’t read the slew of missed texts from his worried friends. He can’t; their escalating concern leaves a guilty stone in his stomach on top of the embarrassment he already feels. He knows they’ll be upset with him for not telling them where he is, that he’s okay, and it spikes his anxiety just thinking about it – which just makes it all the more impossible to open the rest of the texts. He’d barely made it through Naoto’s, forced himself to read Yosuke’s, before he’d had to quit.

Something else, though, is the quiet, creeping dread that has nestled into his already-anxious heart. He can’t read the rest, can’t bring himself to respond and ease their worry because he doesn’t know what to say. How can he possibly explain to his friends why he bolted like a frightened cat for seemingly no reason? They’d want to know what set him off, why it had caused such a violent reaction, and every reason Souji can think of just leads his brain deeper and deeper down the winding rabbit hole of Things He Doesn’t Want to Talk About.

How is he supposed to tell them what brought about his soul-shattering panic attack without revealing everything else?

Still. If he stays silent for too much longer then he’ll lose the window of opportunity to try and play this whole thing off as something they shouldn’t worry about. He also potentially runs the risk of one of them reporting him missing, or even just straight up going to his uncle. There is no easy way to go about handling this garbage fire of a situation and trying to think of ways to avoid it is only making everything so much worse inside his head.

Souji lolls his head back and watches the encroaching dawn slither through his windows and play across the wall across from him. It’s the only light in the room aside from his phone. Eventually, that, too, goes dark.

 The light has changed from dingy blue-grey to anxious pink by the time he realigns himself, creeping along the wall to spill down across the floor. There is a twisting sensation low in his stomach, a burning in the back of this throat. He runs his leaden tongue across his gums and they tingle in response. The ache is still there in every limb, echoed by a shaky feeling that makes his world feel like it’s slipping in and out of solidity.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

He… wants to. Out of all his friends, Naoto would be the safest one to talk to right now. They know, and he wouldn’t have to think up some excuse as to why he fled from school the way he did. It would be… refreshing, he thinks, to finally be honest about a situation like this. (He also shamefully knows that of everyone he still owes an explanation to, he may have frightened Naoto the most. After all they’ve done for him the past two days, he owes them at least this much.)

His thumb only hesitates over the call button for a moment – just one – before he shakily presses it down. The line picks up on the second ring.

“Senpai! Oh thank god; are you alright? Where are you?’

Souji winces at the desperation in his friend’s voice. “I’m fi—“ He swallows against the dryness in this throat, hesitant to say “fine,” because he really, probably isn’t. He hasn’t been fine for days. “I’m alive,” he finally settles on. “I woke up at home but I don’t remember getting here.” There’s no point in lying, and it feels good – if only a little – to admit even the tiniest bit of weakness to someone he knows won’t use it against him.

There is a pause on the other end of the line. “You… ‘woke up’,” Naoto slowly repeats. “How long have you been there?”

“I don’t know. The whole time, I think.”

Naoto sighs and it sounds like a rush of tension being released. “Alright. Alright, it’s worrying that you do not remember, but at least you’re safe.”

There is another pause, a longer one this time, that Souji doesn’t know how to fill. When Naoto finally speaks again, their voice is tiny, quiet, sounding so very young and sad that it damn near wrenches Souji apart.

“…Senpai, you scared me. I knew something must have happened but...”

There’s no one there to see it in the dark, but Souji instinctively hangs his head, shame and guilt lashing at his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle comes over the line before Naoto vehemently says, “Don’t apologize. I know what panic can do to the mind, and I suspect you were not in complete control at the time. I just wish I could have helped.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” he says, because it’s true.

Naoto doesn’t seem to agree. “What I have done is paltry compared to what needed to be done. I try not to make deductions about the Team anymore, but I imagine you require a great deal more support right now than a pack of makeup wipes.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t exactly know how he can.

Naoto sighs again, this time sounding more frustrated than relieved. “I… That was invasive of me, I apologize.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, but your patience with me is appreciated anyway.”

They go quiet for a bit, and Souji can hear faint noises in the background – rustling cloth, the creak of leather. He is reminded that it’s early-o-clock on a school day and that Naoto is probably in the middle of getting ready to leave.

“Souji-senpai?” they finally say, soft and cautious. If Souji were to have any other siblings beyond Nanako, he thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind having Naoto as family.

“I’m still here,” he answers, and it feels like a drop of warmth. He thinks he might smile if he wasn’t so drained still.

“Do you… need to talk about it? Whatever it was that happened, I mean.”

He thinks. Yes, in a way he does, if only to let Naoto in the way they deserve to be. It would be nice to get it off his chest, to have someone understand, but at the same time he doesn’t think he can. Telling Naoto – while safe – would also mean reliving the gut-dropping horror of Teddie’s words. Souji has just barely gotten purchase in the real word again, shaky as it is, and he’d rather not have that tentative stability taken away again. So he takes a breath and lets it out slowly through his nose.

“I… probably,” he says, “but I’d rather not think about it anymore.”

Naoto hums. “I understand. Sometimes it’s better that way.”

There is more shuffling. Then, “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”

Souji huffs – a quiet laugh that isn’t exactly a laugh but is closer than he usually gets. “I don’t think so,” he assures them. “You’re trying; that’s more than I’m used to.”

He thinks he probably shouldn’t have said that. He can’t bring himself to dwell on it right now.

A low, displeased sound comes through the earpiece, and Souji can vividly picture the stern furrow of Naoto’s brows, their lips pressed into a thin, stony line. Yeah. He really shouldn’t have said that.

Thankfully they seem to let it go (though he’s pretty sure Naoto never lets anything go and is just filing it away for later,) because the next words he hears from them are, “Did you sleep at all?”

“Uhm. A little. I think so, at least.” It certainly wasn’t long or well, but he isn’t going to mention that.

Another low, wordless sound. “Have you eaten?”

Oh.

He thinks back to the way his stomach had purged itself the day before last, how he’d been too dead inside to eat breakfast or even pack lunch yesterday. No wonder his body feels weak and shaky, his skull tight behind his eyes.

He swallows. “I… no. Not since… no.”

“Senpai.”

“I think… I might need to stay home today,” he whispers sheepishly. He feels like a child facing down the disapproving stare of an older sibling – which throws him a little since Naoto is younger than he is. He can’t tell if it’s comforting or just plain unsettling. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Do you want me to tell the others you have food poisoning?”

He startles. “That…” He clears his throat to try and regain himself. He’s surprised by how easily Naoto is able to handle this, how quickly they volunteer to cover for him. He hates that he’s surprised. He thinks Naoto would hate that he’s surprised as well.

“You’d do that?” he whispers, unable to hide the slight tremble of grateful awe.

Naoto’s voice is kind, gentle like warm water on an aching body when they say, “I’ll tell them whatever you need me to, Senpai, and nothing else.”

Souji makes a sound that he’s pretty sure is wet and mildly hysterical. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Senpai. I mean that truly.”

He lets out a long, slow breath, careful not to do so directly into the phone, and lets the feeling of something safe and grateful and happy wash over him; like a place to rest when exhaustion peaks, or the warmth of a fire chasing away cold misery. Or, he thinks with a tiny smile, the glowing, sparkling, champagne-fizzy feeling that a bond sends zinging through his veins whenever its rank has risen.

Comfortable quiet reigns as the rank up run its course.

All too soon though, reality returns and through the phone speaker there comes a clock chime from somewhere in the background. Naoto makes a muffled sound as they apparently take their phone away from their ear for a moment.

“Do I need to let you go?” Souji asks when it seems like Naoto can hear him again.

They sigh. “Possibly. Will you be alright?”

He pauses. Aside from how shitty he feels due to lack of proper sleep and no food for two days, he feels… lighter. The anxiety from before has calmed somewhat now that he no longer has to drag his protesting body to school and face down his friends. “Yeah,” he says, and it’s nice to find that he means it. “I’ll be alright. I’ll…” he huffs – the faintest hint of a chuckle, “…spend the day recovering, probably.”

Naoto hums again. “Good, do that.” A beat of silence. Then, “Thank you for calling me, Senpai. If you hadn’t I was planning on coming by your house after school.” They make an odd noise that Souji thinks might be an audible expression of discomfort. “I would have done so yesterday, to be honest, had Kashiwagi-sensei not hauled us all off to change for the beauty pageant.”

Oh hell. He’d forgotten about the second pageant. He winces as he realizes just how awful it must have been for his friends – Naoto especially. “I am so sorry,” he says, his voice a rush of breath. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that; after everything you did for me, I should have stayed to support you—“

But Naoto cuts him off. “Senpai, it’s alright. Panic and the mind, remember? Don’t apologize.” They make the noise of discomfort again, and Souji thinks he can almost hear the way Naoto’s face scrunches up when they deeply dislike something. “Obviously I survived, though it was… unpleasant,” they say, tone flat and unamused. “I won.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes, I would like very much for that to never happen again to either of us.”

There is a muffled voice on Naoto’s end of the line and Souji hears what might be a hand covering the receiver. Naoto says something in return, though Souji doesn’t catch it. A few seconds pass before Naoto returns. “I’m afraid I have to leave now, Senpai. Would it be alright for me to text you during lunch to check on you?”

Souji feels the edges of his mouth stretching upwards, just slightly. He can’t remember if he’s ever smiled as much as he has in recent months. “If you want to,” he replies. “I’ll be okay, though; I just need to eat something.”

“Please do.” A sigh. “Take care, Senpai.”

“You, too.”

Naoto makes one last short noise of affirmation before the line disconnects and Souji is left to stare down at the call’s time stamp on his dimly glowing screen. 7:38. He’ll be late if he wants to try and make it to school.

He isn’t going to.

Looking up at the room around him he is surprised to find the morning light has started to fill it properly – more gold now than blue or pink. It’s brighter than yesterday, when it was a pale, sickly yellow reflecting the way his body felt like lead and his head like poison. He stretches his arms upwards, grunting as several things pop. Maybe today will be better, he thinks; maybe his mind got its fill of blackness over the past 48 hours and will leave him alone today.

Deciding that a good place to start would be finally acknowledging how empty his stomach is, Souji pulls himself to his feet and braces himself against the back of the couch as the waves of dizziness roll over him. He lets them pass, then pushes off the couch, shaky and weak. He’s glad it sounds like no one else is home – he’d hate to try and explain why he was hugging the wall on his way down the stairs. He steels himself, plants his weight on the balls of his feet as best he can, and slowly starts to make his way down towards the kitchen.

He only pauses once for breath at the bottom of the stairs, taking the opportunity to change his newest friend’s name in his phone from “Shirogane-kun” to “Naoto”. 

He feels along the bond of the Wheel of Fortune arcana and smiles at the newfound strength glowing back at him.

---

Souji expects school the next day to be an awkward affair, and to some degree it is. Thankfully no one outside the IT seemed to really notice his terrified escape two days prior; or, at least, no one outside his friend group says anything. He does, however, catch a few whispers floating around as he passes certain groups of people – whispers that sound suspiciously like they’re about the cross dressing pageant and how “good” he looked on stage, usually from tight clusters of giggling girls or between the odd pair of jittery-looking guys. He does his best not to listen.

The real unease, though, sets in when he slips into his seat in the classroom and Yukiko, Chie, and Yosuke – who is here early for once – all turn to look at him. He tries to give them a reassuring smile but it feels just as forced as it actually is. Yosuke especially seems unconvinced.

Luckily the teacher walks in just as Souji feels the back of his head starting to smoke from how intensely Yosuke is staring, so he’s spared having to face his partner just yet.

Unluckily, this just means that by the time lunch rolls around, Yosuke wastes no time in poking Souji’s shoulder to get him to turn around. Slowly, Souji does so, and fixes his best friend with a shaky half-smile. He’s so tired of his nerves running at full capacity.

“Hey,” he says, a little less steady than he’d like.

Yosuke raises a brow at him. “Hey, yourself. What the hell, man? Why didn’t you text me back?”

Besides them, Yukiko nods in agreement and Chie opens her mouth to join the conversation.

Souji doesn’t wait for her to speak. “Did Naoto tell you what happened?” It’s partially a stalling tactic – something he hates being so good at anymore – and partially to see what they think went down so that he can build a believable story off it. Naoto had messaged him during lunch the day before, as they said they would, and given him a rundown of the excuse they had spun for him, but he doesn’t want to just play off that. Yosuke is too observant for his own good sometimes, and his ego is fragile enough that Souji knows he’ll need to be extra careful when trying to lie his way around his best friend’s suspicion.

It’s Yukiko that answers. “Naoto-kun said you went home because you weren’t feeling well, and that was why you weren’t at school yesterday.” She tilts her head, dark eyes narrowing in concern. “But you disappeared so suddenly! You seemed fine before.”

“Yeah,” Chie exclaims, nodding vigorously. “One minute you were in the classroom with us and the next you were just gone!”

“And tearing down the hallway like the building was on fire. Seriously, bro, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.” A flicker of worry passes over Yosuke’s face before it settles back into the oddly pinched look he’s been wearing. He stares at Souji with creased brows and a downturned mouth. “And apparently you just left? You didn’t even stay to see the girls! I woulda thought you’d at least wanna cleanse your eyes after seeing Kanji in a dress.”

Souji feels his face turn stony. When Chie makes a noise of offence and smacks Yosuke in the back of the head, Souji makes no move to intercept.

Instead, he chooses to look at Yukiko when he speaks, as though he’s answering questions in turn. “I was fine for a while.” He has enough to work with, he thinks. Maybe. Naoto has laid the groundwork for him to (hopefully) weasel his way out of this without too many roadblocks. He chooses a middle path between lying (he doesn’t like lying to friends now that he has them) and the truth (because no, no, not in a million years, no) and works the half-truths through a set of carefully constructed loopholes. He’s become far too good at loopholes.

He tugs at his own expression until it resembles something sheepish. His nerves help it look more real. “I made the mistake of not eating anything yesterday because I was nervous.” (Not a lie.) “Naoto actually found me in the bathroom… throwing up stomach acid.” (Also not a lie, as long as he doesn’t tell them when Naoto found him in the bathroom.) He looks away and rubs at a spot just behind his ear. He’s aware that it makes him look embarrassed – which is fine – but it also gives him an excuse not to keep eye contact.

Chie and Yukiko both make sounds of distress, talking at him and over each other in their concern and he thinks he may have managed to fool them. He glances at Yosuke and, yeah, no, that’s not convincement looking back at him.

“So you bolted cuz you had to go throw up?” Yosuke asks, his voice thinly tinted with disbelief.

Lay it thicker, maybe I can shock him into buying it.

Souji nods. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he says to all of them, but directly at Yosuke to make sure his partner feels special here. He stifles a grimace at how manipulative he has to be – how much of a coward he knows he’s being. He hates this. “I screwed up and made myself sick. By the time I got home I was in such bad shape that all I could do was lay down and pass out. I didn’t even wake up until yesterday morning.”

Again, it’s not technically a lie, even if he more disassociated than “passed out,” and he doesn’t actually remember anything from his panic attack. He’s aware that when the story gets around to the kohai, Rise will likely blame herself for insisting he participate in the pageant. A tiny peek over at Yukiko and Chie’s faces tells him that they’re feeling a little guilty, too. He hates this. He hates it.

And he especially hates the tiny little piece of him that whispers, “good.”

Trying to swallow the guilt in his own gut, Souji places his hands on his knees and bows low in his seat. It’s the last card he can play without despising himself entirely, and the final touch to what he hopes is a believable enough story.

Chie says something to him that Souji only barely listens to, while Yukiko puts a hand to her mouth and gives him a look like a sad puppy as he slowly sits up. Yosuke, however, seems unsure. His mouth is open slightly like he wants to say something, and he looks torn between worry and confusion.

Deflect. Distract.

Souji puts on a self-depreciating smile. “I’m really sorry, Partner,” (because he knows Yosuke is weak to the nickname), “I left right after Naoto found me. I would have said something but I was afraid I’d have to answer to Kashiwagi if she caught me trying to leave.” He twists his face into something that might be a non-verbal “yikes.”

And that’s what does the trick.

Yosuke’s expression switches to a more exaggerated version of Souji’s own. “Oh god. Smart thinking, man, she probably would’ve made you stay even if you’d throw up on her.” He shudders. “Her in a swimsuit is gonna haunt my nightmares forever.”

Souji actually balks at that. “Swimsuit?” has asks, genuinely aghast as he looks to Chie for confirmation. Oh. Well hell, now he feels even worse for leaving Naoto to their fate the other day.

Chie nods. “Yeah, we had to go up there in swimsuits and dresses and everything. It was humiliating.”

The way Souji’s face contorts in unbridled, empathetic discomfort is completely real and completely involuntary. “I am so sorry.”

Yukiko looks at him, puzzled. “Why? You didn’t sign us up.” She and Chie both shoot Yosuke a look that could curdle blood.

“Oh come on!” Yosuke sputters in response. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Something tightens in Souji’s chest and, not for the first time, he wishes he had the courage to shut Yosuke’s bullshit down. But he doesn’t, so he doesn’t, and the trickle of self hate from earlier drips just a little bit faster.

Souji bites down hard on the inside of his cheek.

 “At least everything you wore was meant for girls,” Yosuke is saying, holding his hands up as though trying to placate a snarling dog. It seems to be going about as well as expected.

He turns his head to shoot Souji a look that says ‘back me up’ but Souji simply raises an eyebrow at him. He might not be brave enough to tell his best friend off for being a prick, but he also has no desire to get pulled into the hole Yosuke is digging right now.  

Yosuke seems to understand that Souji isn’t going to help him, because his face is distinctly paler when he turns back to the girls and says, “You wanna talk humiliating, us guys had it so much worse in drag!”  

Wrong move.

Yosuke lets out a squawk as the girls rightfully begin to tear into him like feral cats; Chie with her fist and Yukiko with words like daggers. Souji lets it happen.

Silently, he digs out his bento and tries very hard not to be bitter. About the way Yosuke’s words leave a weird hot-stinging sensation in Souji’s chest, about how no one seems inclined to apologize for signing him up for the pageant; just… everything.

He squashes the thoughts back down before they can affect his outward expression. It’s fine, it’s okay, everything is okay; he doesn’t feel childishly irritated over the whole damn situation. He just wants the subject dropped.

“I should go apologize to the others,” he says as he stands. No one seems to really hear him, but Yukiko does spare him a nod as he passes. Chie is too busy digging her knuckles into Yosuke’s scalp to notice him leaving.

He heads out the door, bento in hand, and starts in the direction of the stairwell. He really does plan on apologizing to Kanji and Rise at some point today – and Teddie, too, of course, though Souji stills feels shaky at the thought of talking to him just yet – but for now he really just wants to find Naoto. He hopes they like onigiri; out of all his friends, Naoto is the only one he hasn’t yet had a chance to make lunch for, and food will be a good way to start thanking them properly now that the chaos has mostly died down.

It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with Souji finding his own appetite gone for the third time in several days.

---

Lunch with Naoto is a welcome break from the tension of his own classroom. He tries to apologize in person – because it’s more polite than over the phone – but Naoto doesn’t let him. Instead, they wave away his attempt with a light flush on their face and pull down their cap to hide it. It doesn’t quite work. Still, the air between the two of them is surprisingly easy to breathe and Souji feels the last of the jitters drain from his limbs.

They talk a bit. It isn’t for very long, since Souji had spent the first third of the lunch period spinning his not-story for Chie, Yukiko, and Yosuke, but the conversation is easier than he’s used to and he realizes with a kind of happy warmth that it’s because he isn’t having to hide. He doesn’t need to keep his voice in check, keep it purposefully low and quiet, so he’s actually able to talk a little more than he usually does and not worry what will happen if he lets his vocal chords do as they want. He’s practiced for years at this point, anyway, so the danger is minimal, but sometimes, sometimes his throat starts to hurt when he tries for a tone just the wrong side of comfortable.

He’s even managed to regain some of his appetite by the time the end of lunch rolls around and together, he and Naoto make a decent-sized dent in the humble bento. (It turns out that, yes, Naoto does in fact like onigiri, and that the seasoned rice with tuna is their unexpected favorite.) Naoto thanks him but he turns the tables and waves their thanks away in a similar fashion to what they’d done with his apology. They part with plans to spend lunch together again before the week is over and Souji finds he’s wearing the same small, genuine smile that only seems to come out because of Naoto.

He’s almost late getting back because he actually runs into Rise on the way to his classroom and takes the opportunity to apologize to her, too. She does start to blame herself, just like he thought she might, but a well placed smile that he knows makes her blush and a few words of reassurance have her giving him a watery smile in return. He makes it back just in the nick of time with one more friendship smoothed over.

The second half of the day is… interesting. Things seem to have gone back to relatively normal between him and Yukiko and Chie. Chie asks him how it went right before the teacher walks in and Souji flashes her a quick thumbs up. She grins.

No, everything is fine with the girls; it’s Yosuke that appears to still have issues. On any other day his best friend would be poking him in the back with the top of a pencil, tapping him in the side with a note he was passing, whispering snarky commentary about something one of their teachers says, but today…

Souji wants to ask just how badly Chie knuckled him, but he thinks that may be the least of the reasons why Yosuke isn’t interacting like he normally does. A lump forms in Souji throat that refuses to go away no matter how many times he tries to swallow it down.

It takes forever but the final bell eventually rings and, nervous as he is about, well, everything anymore, Souji slides around in his seat to give his partner a smile. He tries to make it as real as he can, calling on all the good things he feels about Yosuke and tucking his earlier frustrations away for the time being. As much of an ass as Yosuke can be, he’s still Souji’s best friend, and Souji would very much like that dynamic back now, if possible. He misses normal.

Just as he opens his mouth to ask if Yosuke wants to walk home together, the other boy stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. Yosuke hurries out of the room, only pausing briefly to turn around and walk backwards while flashing Souji a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I gotta get ready for work, I’ll see ya later, Partner!” And then he’s dashing out the door with one last, “I’m glad you’re better, dude!”

It hurts a bit, like a bruise he accidentally smacked that now throbs a dull rhythm. But, he supposes he might deserve it after the scare he gave everybody, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Yosuke were still upset about Souji not letting him know he was alright. He also can’t actually say his partner doesn’t have an after-school shift, so in the end Souji resigns himself to that little spark of pain and vows to text Yosuke later before he goes to bed. Maybe he’ll bring another lunch to share tomorrow. Just to be safe.

He stays and talks to Yukiko and Chie for a few minutes before Yukiko remembers that she has to go help set up for a large business dinner being held at the inn that night. Chie offers to walk with her and Souji bids them both farewell.

The biggest surprise of the day, however, is finding Kanji waiting by his shoe locker, looking more than a little trepidatious.

At first Souji thinks it’s about his disappearing act the other day; after all, Kanji is the only schoolmate he still owes an apology to. (Teddie is, again, a different matter altogether.) So Souji puts on the appropriate facial expression and readies himself to repeat the story one more time.

“Kanji, hi,” he says, nodding when his friend looks up at his approach.

Kanji stands up straighter from where he’s been leaning against he side of the lockers, but he keeps his arms across his chest like a shield. “H-hey, Senpai.” He looks away and doesn’t say anything more.

Taking that as his cue to start, Souji politely tilts his head and puts on the familiar sheepish expression. “I should apologize—“

“You busy right now?”

Souji blinks stupidly. He closes his mouth with a quiet ‘click’ and takes a second to recover from being cut off and thrown wildly off-balance.

Kanji flushes. “Sorry, Senpai, I just…” He clears his throat and looks back up, shoulders squaring. “I gotta talk to somebody about somethin’ and you’re kinda the only person I trust with it.”

Souji’s eyes go impossibly wider. He feels his brows somewhere up near his hairline and absently wonders where his perfect control over his own face went. “I…” he starts, still not entirely reoriented. He quickly switches gears and tries to tuck the confusion away to make room for Friend Mode. “O…kay?”

Well. It’s something. He clears his throat and stars again, the smallest of frowns creeping along his mouth. “Is everything alright? You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

Kanji gives him nothing but a stiff nod and poorly concealed nerves.

Souji keeps a tight leash on his expression. “Okay, well, let me get my shoes and we can walk together?” he tries. He not sure if he should be anxious or not but whatever Kanji needs him for, Souji knows that he’ll at least feel more at ease somewhere further away from school.

“Oh!” Kanji startles a little and steps far enough back that Souji can get to his locker. “Right. Sorry.”

Five minutes later sees them passing through the school gates, side by side in silence.

Without a clear destination, Souji simply steers them towards the floodplain. If the little seating area is free then that’s where he plans to take them; it’s a familiar enough place that he feels comfortable talking there, but also has plenty of open air so he can make a hasty – but polite – escape should he need to. He doesn’t like that his first reactions to half his friends these days have been self-debates on whether or not he can outrun them.

Kanji keeps fidgeting as they walk, like his fingers are tracing out knitting patterns to keep his mind busy. Souji doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Kanji so jittery when Naoto wasn’t nearby for his friend to sweat over. Their mutual crush is adorable in how obvious it is to everyone but them and Souji hopes one of them will make a move some day. They would make a good couple.

Matchmaking aside, Souji wonders if maybe he should try his apology once more – if only to break the cacophonous silence. He’s had more than enough silence from his own parents, thanks; he doesn’t like it from his friends.

The thought cuts a deep path through Souji’s chest and he grinds his teeth against it, though the pain is an old one and he’s long since grown accustomed to it. It’s been a while since his mind has turned to that particular dark corner.

(He tramples another thought before it can fully form – one that seems hell-bent on comparing certain old hurts with the newer ache of Yosuke apparently avoiding him.)

“I owe you an apology,” he says suddenly, his voice a bit too loud in his own ears. He turns his head to catch Kanji twitching like he’s been startled before looking over at Souji in confusion.

“Huh? What for?”

Souji keeps his features carefully schooled. “For what happened after the pageant. Running off and not telling anyone where I went.” He tilts his head and does not frown. “Freaking everyone out?”

“Oh, that.” Kanji rubs at the back of his neck. “I appreciate it, but you don’t gotta apologize to me, Senpai. Naoto and Rise both already filled me in.” He pauses to give Souji a long, appraising look. “How’re ya feelin’, by the way?”

That catches Souji off guard. It seems Kanji is just exceptionally good at that today. “I’m alright,” he says honestly. Once more, he avoids the word “fine” because that, to him, would imply more than just physical alright-ness and he just… doesn’t want to think about that anymore.

Kanji seems satisfied with his answer and turns back to watching the world in front of them. “Can’t say I wasn’t worried, ‘specially after seeing you bookin’ it down the hallway like that, but I figured you’d let someone know eventually.” He shrugs. “And if you didn’t me an’ Naoto were gonna go check out your house after school today.”

Souji actually chuckles at that, breath stuttering past his lips to form the sound. “So they told me.” He lets one corner of his mouth tug upward as he catches Kanji’s eye again. “Thank you. And I am sorry.”

Kanji flushes and looks away. “Nah, ‘s nothing.”

The rest of the walk is significantly less tense after that.

Subsequently, it’s also shorter than it had seemed a few minutes ago. They arrive not long after and Souji takes it upon himself to sit down and fold his hands over the tabletop, leaving Kanji to lean his hip against the opposite corner.

Well, here goes.

“Alright,” he says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “What can I do to help?”

Kanji snorts, but it’s neither derogatory nor mirthful. He doesn’t look at Souji as he crosses his arms back over his chest. “Ain’t really somethin’ I need help with so much as I just need to... get it off my chest, ya know?” He frees one hand and makes a sharp, vague gesture near where his heart is. “I can’t keep it in anymore; I gotta tell somebody or I’m gonna go crazy and… well, I figured you’re the safest bet...”

Souji’s expression melts into something soft, warm, amiable. “Well thank you,” he says, genuinely a little touched, only for Kanji’s entire face to go cinnamon-red.

Kanji makes a noise of frustration, scrubbing furiously at his hair to hide his burning cheeks before just giving up and turning so that Souji is now staring at his back. “Damnit, that wasn’t—! UG.” He takes a moment to gather himself; Souji gives it to him. Eventually Kanji lets out a heavy breath and straightens up once more. He makes no move to turn around.

“Look, Senpai, you… You’ve always accepted me, yeah? You never treated me like I was some kinda delinquent or, or whatever Yosuke-senpai fuckin’ thinks I am—“

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Souji says, low and dark and steely. He feels the bitterness and self-dislike bubbling up from their deep-seated pools. Kanji is a good person – rough around the edges, yes, but still just a kid like the rest of them and a genuinely kind one at that. Souji hates how afraid he’s been of jeopardizing Yosuke’s opinion of him, of how he’s been too much of a coward to stand up for his younger friend and make Yosuke apologize for his homophobia. A team is only as good as its leader and Souji must really be a poor leader if he can’t even stop his own lieutenant from being a jerk.

It’s not just that you’re afraid of losing him as a friend, his mind whispers. You’re afraid of him finding out.

Souji glues his tongue to the roof of his mouth and clamps down on the horrible way his chest constricts.

Luckily Kanji is still facing away from him. “Y-yeah,” he agrees, oblivious to his senpai’s internal self-disgust. “Yeah, you’re cool like that. An’ that’s why you’re kinda my best bud.”

Oh, now that just makes Souji feel even worse. He’d forgotten that Kanji had told him that once, back when Naoto had first officially joined the IT, and hearing it again now is like a fist to the spine. He’s failed Kanji, he really has, he—

“And I mean! I know you an’ Yosuke-senpai are ‘partners’ or whatever, but I just… I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that I trust you, Senpai.” Kanji sighs, the line of tension in his shoulders giving way. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and stares at something out over the grey-sapphire shimmer of the river below.

Souji swallows. “Kanji…”

He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say, besides another useless “sorry”?

But Kanji just shakes his head and leans his weight back on his heels. He looks up at the sky, or maybe just lolls his head back in resignation, like a man coming to terms with the thousand-foot-drop that awaits him.

Souji knows the feeling.

“I think,” he says – and it’s so quiet that Souji has to lean forward to try and hear him better. There is a pause as Kanji takes a deep, long breath and lets it out.

“I think I might be bi.”

Souji is floored. Of all the possible things that Kanji could have just said to him, Souji was very much NOT excepting that to be one of them. It comes so far out of left field that it actually shocks all of Souji’s dark and guilty thoughts into absolute silence.

The quiet rings out between them, stretching into an impossibly long handful of seconds. Souji needs to respond, he knows he needs to, can see the way Kanji’s shoulders have started to tighten and hunch, but for the first time in forever Souji’s mind is empty and he cannot remember how to form words with his tongue.

So he just blinks like an owl and breathes out a soft, “…Oh.” Because really, how else can he react?

Something about how he says it has Kanji tentatively turning halfway around to look at him. Kanji’s face is guarded, like he’s ready at any moment to throw up his bravado, his shields, and the vulnerability it exposes is enough to finally, finally snap Souji back into action.

A warm smile spreads over Souji’s features, hardly even bidden, and he leans back to sit more naturally upright. He lets the smile crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you for telling me, Kanji.” He keeps his voice light, calm, kind; he is completely honest when he glances away and says, “I know how hard it must have been to say it out loud.”

Kanji’s eyes widen in realization. “Senpai… You, too?”

Souji makes a sound somewhere between a cough and a wispy bark of laughter. It’s stifled, but his shoulders jerk with the veiled force of the noise and he matches Kanji’s gaze with a tired, understanding one of his own. “Not bi, no,” he says pointedly, cocking an eyebrow and hoping it’s visible beneath his hair.

Kanji lets out a shaky breath. “Oh,” he echoes. He slides down onto the bench across from Souji, almost like he’s a block of ice melting in the sudden sunlight. “So you’re…?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in companionable silence for a minute, each processing the conversation so far.

After a few beats, Souji tilts his head curiously and asks, “What made you want to tell me?”

Oh, that…

Souji immediately dislikes how that sounded and his face twists minutely at the sour taste the words leave on his tongue. He hastily adds, “I’m honored that you did, don’t get me wrong, but—“

“Why’d I pick now?”

Souji sucks part of his lip between his teeth and nods.

Kanji sighs and leans back on the bench – which looks horribly uncomfortable, considering there’s nothing for his back to rest against. He re-crosses his arms and looks up at a passing cloud. “I started figuring it out a while ago and it’s been buggin’ me ever since. Like, it’s too big a secret to keep by myself, ya know?”

Souji does know. Oh god does he know.

He nods again, even though Kanji can’t see it properly while looking elsewhere. Kanji seems to catch it, though, because he keeps going.

“And after all that shit with my shadow, I just… I dunno. I’m sick of tryin’a hide from myself, so I thought, hey, this is a thing about me, might as well accept it.” He pauses and shifts awkwardly, clearly trying to consider his next words. His eyes flick over to Souji once or twice but he quickly averts them again right after.

Souji waits. He refuses to make this any more difficult for his friend than it already is.

He has a hard time keeping the surprise from his face, though, when Kanji mutters, “Weirdest part is, I knew but it didn’t really hit me until the stupid pageant.”

“The pageant?” Souji blurts. “How?!” Everything in his head scrambles a little, and there is a moment where he’s just gaping at Kanji like a fish with his mouth trying to form shapes and failing miserably.

He not sure how two people could have such wildly different reactions to that living nightmare of a day.

Kanji actually laughs at his outburst – a bit awkwardly, but still a laugh. “Yeah, the whole thing sucked ass, didn’t it?” He scratches at this cheek. “Kinda liked my dress, though…”

“It looked good on you,” Souji mumbles, still not fully recovered.

Kanji flushes and glances away. “Thanks, Senpai. You uh, you looked good, t—“ He trails off as he looks back over at Souji, eyes widening and brows furrowing.

Souji’s making a face; he knows he is, there’s no way he isn’t when there’s a layer of frost creeping its freezing fingers over his heart. He can feel the stretch of his lips over his teeth in a twisting grimace that’s well beyond his own control. Don’t think about it, please don’t think about it...

Kanji coughs into his fist. “Uh, I mean, you always look good, Senpai.” His expression does something funny, like he’s just realized what he’d said, and he apparently just gives up trying to salvage it. Instead, he props his elbows up on the table and drops his face into his hands. “Fuuuuuuuuck! See? That’s my problem! Naoto always looks good and you always look good, and I can’t catch a break!” He ‘thunks’ his forehead down onto the hard wooden tabletop. Souji hopes he hasn’t hurt himself.

 Kanji’s voice is muffled when he says, “That ain’t a confession, I swear, I just think you’re handsome, same as everybody else does.”

Oh.

OH!

Souji’s expression does a 180 and he can feel himself beaming. He’d been scared; after what Teddie had said, Souji had been expecting Kanji to say something similar, to say his bisexual realization had come about because of Souji in costume. (He suppresses a shudder at that.) But no. Kanji had called him “handsome” instead, which meant – awkward friendly attraction aside – Kanji had found him attractive as a guy. Not because he’d been dressed as something he wasn’t, Kanji had seen him at face value: a guy in a costume.

If he wasn’t so certain that Naoto would pistol whip him, Souji thinks he could dive across the table towards Kanji right now and kiss him.

He reins it in and settles for chuckling instead. “I’m flattered.” And he really kind of is. His eyes are fond as he adds, “I’m proud of you, too.”

Kanji sits back up again and flashes Souji a sheepish – albeit heavily relieved – grin. “You’re somethin’ else, ya know that, Senpai?”

Souji just beams brighter and gives him a noncommittal shrug.

Kanji exhales, the remaining tension bleeding out into the dirt below their feet. “Damn. It feels good to let all that out.” He laughs again, the sound light and relaxed. “I was gonna tell my ma first, but I think she already knows.”

Souji nods. His mouth turns imperceptibly downward and he says, with just a touch of chill, “A good mother usually does.” He tightens his face against the way it wants to crumple, and if there is a new ball of bitter thorns in his stomach then he chooses to leave it be.

Kanji thankfully doesn’t notice the way Souji’s expression has turned plastic. “Yeah,” he agrees, “and she’s said stuff before about ‘bringing a girl or a boy over for dinner’. I thought she was talkin’ about friends at the time but now I’m not so sure.”

He matches Souji’s gaze right as Souji manages to school his face back into something more natural. “I’m real glad I told you first, though.”

Warmth settles in on top of the thorny clot of pain and soothes the worst of the jagged edges. It’s still there – has been for years – but it’s easier to manage than it was a minute ago. Souji huffs through his nose, his quiet little not-laugh, and looks down at the table. Maybe he’s being selfish, but it makes him feel special in a way he thinks might be just what he’s needed.

“Me, too,” he says, and relishes in the feeling of fizzing, giddy brightness as the Emperor arcana jumps up another rank.

---

Souji goes home in a better mood than he ever expected to be. He makes dinner, watches TV with Nanako, manages to get a head start on the schoolwork he’d missed the day before. The only damper on his happiness is the fact that, despite Souji texting him several times throughout the evening, Yosuke has yet to answer back.

The sting from that afternoon returns and Souji is left frowning at his phone screen as he lies on his futon before sleeping. It’s… fine, he tells himself. I deserve this for scaring him like that. I’m overreacting.

He sets the phone aside and turns over, determined not to let it get to him. He’s asleep in minutes – well before midnight – and so doesn’t notice when the sky starts to open and drizzle gentle rain over top the resting world.

He doesn’t even stir when the clock strikes twelve and his television crackles to white-static life, a faceless monochrome figure peering out into his room with lightning-colored eyes.

#fanfic #fanfiction #persona 4 #p4 #souji seta #yu narukami #trans souji seta #trans male character #yosuke hanamura #kanji tatsumi #naoto shirogane #investigation team #trans!au #scars on my sleeve #caught in the grey #tw past abuse #tw dysphoria #tw self hate

[mustdang-100]

Shifting Perspectives - Ch. 9

Serizawa gets a text message. Teru and Shou practice some skills.   Summary:

How many espers does it take to rescue one abducted conman?

Months after the events of the World Domination arc, Reigen disappears sometime between leaving the office and after-work plans. Serizawa finds himself the unwilling leader of a bunch of former Claw members and a couple of stubborn teenagers, determined to get Reigen back.

On AO3: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091201/chapters/34325561>

Tumblr: Ch.1|Ch.2|Ch.3|Ch.4|Ch.5|Ch.6|Ch.7|Ch.8|Ch.9 - below

“Th-thank you again for choosing Spirits & Such for your spectral solutions; come again if your problem returns!”

Serizawa pressed the office door gently but firmly closed – before the overly grateful customer could launch into another round of fawning compliments. He leaned heavily against the door with a relieved sigh and allowed his eyes to slide shut for just a moment, trying to remember why he’d thought opening the office today would be a good idea. He was lucky the woman’s issue really had been spectral in nature. Even at the very best of times he had no aptitude for the kind of charm Reigen could put into play, much less now. But the tiny spirit clinging viciously to the customer’s purse had been an easy job; he’d exorcised it with a single surreptitious flick of his hand before she’d even finished explaining her troubles. Getting rid of the customer herself, however, had been a bit more of a challenge. Tsuchiya, lounging behind the desk that Serizawa usually occupied, shot him a sympathetic look that did not quite hide her amusement. “Damn, I thought the door was gonna catch on her eyelashes, with how fast they were fluttering.” Tsuchiya grinned. Serizawa made a face at her, and sighed again. “Sorry, that was probably a bit abrupt of me. It’s usually Reigen who takes care of seeing out our more, uh, amorous customers. I think he considers it a fun challenge. I’ve gotten too used to throwing him at them as a distraction to get out of doing it myself, since he can manage to do it without being rude.” Tsuchiya rolled her eyes. “That’s the nice thing about running the boxing gym. Being rude is practically one of the techniques.”

Serizawa snorted, straightening up to keep from simply sliding all the way to the floor, as Tsuchiya returned to her text conversation.

As the only one of the group who owned her own business, Tsuchiya had offered to stay with Serizawa while they all waited to see whether Hatori managed to dig up any more clues from the video with his technological wizardry. Serizawa had urged the rest of his little rescue band to return to their jobs for the day – there was no reason why they should all put their positions at risk – and he would let them know as soon as he heard anything. They had gone, protesting all the way, but it made him feel like less of a burden.

He’d tentatively suggested that Tsuchiya go into work with the rest of them. She’d fixed him with eyes like steel and said only: “The gym will be fine without me for a day or two; that’s what assistant managers are for. You shouldn’t be alone right now.” Serizawa had almost cried at the show of support, which just made her uncomfortable – Tsuchiya really preferred actions to emotions. Serizawa walked heavily back to the chair behind Reigen’s desk, feeling a little sick that the action might imply he thought Reigen wasn’t coming back. He’d started the morning just sitting on the office couch, until Tsuchiya had pointed out that might look unprofessional to any customers. The office had already seemed bigger than usual, somehow, with just the two of them. Almost like the force of Reigen’s personality had taken up the space of an entire third person. Serizawa pulled out his phone and pressed the power button, preparing himself to wait the small eternity the decrepit thing needed to start back up. He normally kept his phone off and stowed in a drawer during the work day, in an effort to put forward the best businessman face that he could. Today he was so paranoid about missing a call from Hatori that he’d had to fight himself to turn it off even when a client walked right up to him.

But with each hour that passed with no news, the clearer the message became: the video was a dead end; they were back to square one.

Tsuchiya exhaled loudly and began typing a long text message, thumbs flying aggressively over the keyboard.

“Mukai still wants to help?”

“Yes,” Tsuchiya said with an eyeroll, voice brimming with affection. “Little ass-kicker. We’re lucky she doesn’t know where we are, or she’d have been here hours ago. I’m telling her that we’ll call her in if we need any more firepower.”

Serizawa felt his lips twitch up in the first smile in days. “And the chances of you actually telling her to come join us are…?”

“Exactly zero.” Tsuchiya nodded decisively, snapping her phone shut with a resounding clack. “After Claw, I’m trying to give her as normal a childhood as possible, but it’s difficult. She’s so smart, and so powerful – she’s having a hard time making friends her own age.” Tsuchiya rubbed her face, her expression shadowed with a weariness that was more mental than physical.

Serizawa’s heart twisted in empathy; he well remembered similar difficulties in his own childhood, and that was without the trauma of being recruited to Claw before the age of…

...He shuddered. He knew Claw kidnapped children as young as possible, for the brainwashing to be most effective. He found he didn’t want to know how young Mukai had been when she was taken.

He opened his mouth to offer his sympathies, but was interrupted by a chirp from his own phone sitting innocuously on the surface of Reigen’s desk, announcing he’d received a message during its brief hibernation.

Serizawa stared at the phone, frozen, until his body caught up with his brain.

Hatori!

He lunged; the phone practically leapt into his hand, and probably did have just a bit of telekinetic assistance. He had not one, but two messages; unfortunately they were not from Hatori, but from an unknown number. Serizawa swiped at the screen, frowning, disappointment crushing down as quickly as his hopes had risen.

“Not Hatori?” Tsuchiya had jumped to her feet, but relaxed at the slow shake of Serizawa’s head.

“No… it’s someone I don’t know. But, it’s… it’s weird…”

The message was one giant mass of characters, and Serizawa read through it in increasing bewilderment. Something about the… the government?”

He blinked. Ugh, was this political spam?

Serizawa slumped against the desk in disgust; well, a spam message might explain all the typos. He scrolled halfheartedly through the jumbled mess of kanji, only skimming now. The last thing he wanted was for political campaigns to get hold of his number, when every message sent his emotions on a thrill ride that was somehow mostly plunging falls. Serizawa had been doing his best to be a model citizen, but at the moment he couldn’t give two shits about the upcoming elections, or the government as a whole, for that matter, regardless of what they wanted. Something about kids? Serizawa squinted, tilting his head as though that would make it easier to read. Kids, and-

Wait… ‘Mob?’

An electric jolt zipped up his spine; Serizawa leapt back to the beginning of the text and read with frantic exhilaration. He clutched the phone so tightly he was afraid he might break it in his fervor. But his excitement faded into mounting anxiety as sentences slotted damningly into place with the context of the sender.

Serizawa whirled to face Tsuchiya, who’d straightened in alarm.

“I think…!” Serizawa could barely hear himself, his heart drumming too loud in his ears. “I think it’s Reigen!”

Tsuchiya’s eyes flew wide; she dashed to read over his shoulder.

Reading it through a second time did not alter the conclusion he’d drawn; Serizawa brought up a second hand to minimize the shakiness of his hold on the tiny device that had brought him both jubilation and horror.

The government – the government – had taken his… had taken Reigen. Because they thought Reigen was responsible for the increasingly peculiar psychic phenomena that had been occurring in Spice City.

Because who they were really looking for was Shigeo.

Serizawa reeled; his lungs couldn’t seem to take in any air. They wanted to take Shigeo, his wise little friend, who wanted a life filled with nothing more than kindness and normalcy.

And Reigen had – ? What? Told them that he was responsible for everything?

Reigen, Reigen no…

The message was all warning. Warnings for Serizawa, to be careful of anyone watching him. To make sure no one had any more reason to look too closely at the kids. It said nothing about where. he. was.

Serizawa almost did crush the phone, then, out of sheer frustration. He resisted the temptation – it might still be able to tell him something.

He tried calling the unknown number, once, twice, three times. Each one rang through to a curt, no-nonsense voicemail message. The voice belonged to a stranger.

He was so close. He could feel the chance falling through his fingers like grains of sand, possible to grasp but only with the right knowledge, the right equipment, the right-

Tsuchiya pointed at an icon at the top of the screen, interrupting his racing mind. “Is that another message?”

Serizawa had completely forgotten about the second text. He opened it at once, but it contained only a single, blurry photo.

A single, blurry photo of two street signs, the names of which were still perfectly legible.

A destination. Finally, a god-damned location.

His mind snapped onto the street names like a hound with a scent. He could finally do something.

He called Minegishi, words spilling out before they could even say hello.

“Minegishi! He sent a message, he sent a text! Reigen! We have a clue, we have a – a picture! A street sign! We can find him! Those people that took him – in the video – they’re from the government, but we can search the street names and find where he is! I’m gonna-”

“Ok, calm down,” Minegishi said, more unflappable than ever in the face of Serizawa’s tripping tongue. There was the sound of talking in the background, of a door opening and closing. “I’m leaving now. I’ll text the others. We’ll meet you at the office within an hour, two at most.”

“Two hours? I’m leaving now, Minegishi. Tsuchiya’s here, we can go, we’ll find the intersection,” He looked up at Tsuchiya. She was already on her phone, searching the internet for intersections with those names. “We have to get there before he gets too far from that street, before-”

“Serizawa.” Minegishi’s voice was loud and curt. “You just said someone in the government has him. You don’t know who, you don’t know why. You don’t know what kind of resources they have to bear, which means you could walk straight into something that could get you taken as well, or worse. And you are not sacrificing yourself for anyone else, we are done with that.”

Their voice broke, surprising both of them into silence.

Minegishi didn’t say anything else, but Serizawa could hear the sounds of traffic in the background; they hadn’t hung up. Serizawa gritted his teeth. The urge to run straight to the intersection was almost overpowering, but… the implication behind Minegishi’s words deserved a response.

“Reigen isn’t using me, Minegishi.” Suddenly Serizawa almost smiled, as a long-ago conversation about job duties floated up from his memories. “Or rather, he’s very upfront about how he is most definitely using me. That is, to help his business succeed. I’m in charge of beating the crap out of anyone or anything that might be a threat, you know.”

Minegishi said nothing to that. Serizawa realized belatedly that now might not be the best time for jokes; the adrenaline rush from finally having a firm lead had pushed him towards something approaching giddiness. He quickly sobered.

“I promise he’s not manipulating my emotions like that. I promise. I know exactly where we stand.”

Whether he liked it or not, he thought with a slight pang. Not important right now, Serizawa.

The silence lasted one heartbeat, two. And then a sigh whispered through the line.

“Just.. please wait? We’ll get there as fast as we can. You find the location, look up the fastest route there, and we can discuss our plan on the way. It won’t be that much slower.”

Serizawa was itching with the desire to run out there, after Reigen, right now. But if he could push his panic away for just a second… Minegishi did have a point. It would be better for Reigen if he could come in with real support.

Despite this logic, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hold himself back if he hadn’t been coming to the sinking realization that Reigen’s texts had arrived almost 45 minutes before he’d seen them. Reigen was either on the run, long past the intersection where he’d managed to take a photo, which meant they’d have to follow a train anyway. Or, he was hiding somewhere nearby. Maybe with the phone he’d somehow gotten ahold of turned to silence, so it wouldn’t betray his location to his pursuers…?

Serizawa made his decision.

“Fine. I’ll wait, for at least an hour.”

Minegishi’s sigh was a punch of static. “Thank you. We are on the way.”

Serizawa ended the call, and immediately called the unknown number one more time. Just as before, it rang through to voicemail. This time, Serizawa spoke when prompted.

“I’m coming for you. We’re coming for you. Please hold on.”

He stopped himself before he could say something more, something that was simply not appropriate, not right now. Not in these circumstances. Instead, he added only the simplest, most overwhelming hope in his heart.

“Stay safe.”

He ended the call, and settled in to research Spice City’s sprawling train lines.

Tsuchiya was arguing that the less-direct east train got to the business district faster than the midtown line when a text message tone made Serizawa jump.

His heart leapt instantly to his throat – Reigen!? – until he realized the buzz had come not from his own phone, but from Reigen’s, which he’d recharged and placed back in his pants pocket. He’d grabbed it to look at the sender before he recalled that it might be an invasion of privacy. But it was too late – he’d already seen the sender’s name, and a preview of the message that appeared on the lockscreen.

[Mob]

[Sunday 11:48 am]

[Hi Shishou. Ritsu is acting kind of weird. He said nothing is wrong but I was wondering if you…]

Serizawa stared at the words, his stomach twisting in horror. The message was cut off, but the preview said enough.

Shigeo was starting to figure out that something was wrong.

‘It’s Mob thety want Mob you have to keep him away, pleas keep him safe no keep them all away, all the kids, I don’t know what they would do with kids, Serizawa please make sure…’

Serizawa squeezed his eyes shut. And slowly returned the phone to his pocket.

If he was smarter he would respond to Shigeo’s message, pretending to be Reigen. He’d send something reassuring, but very short, to sound as much like him as possible without giving away the ruse. But the lies of omission were already sticking in his throat, trickling nauseatingly into his belly; he simply couldn’t bring himself to lie so directly to someone he trusted.

They had a location. If they were lucky, they’d have Reigen back before Shigeo’s concern had the chance to blossom into real suspicion.

Serizawa knew only one thing that Reigen wanted right now, one thing he could do for him: protect the kids from the people who wanted Shigeo, to keep the people who had Reigen from finding out it was Shigeo they wanted. These people who had already taken one person he cared about. He would keep all the kids, whose powers made them too obvious a target, as far away from this business as possible.

***

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Shou said, staring intently enough at the government building that he might as well be trying to intimidate it into revealing its secrets.

He and Teru had watched the building all morning from Shou’s lofty hideout, hoping daylight would reveal new information. There had been a buzz of activity a few hours ago; a half-dozen people dressed in black burst from the three different exits they could see, but it’d been hard to tell exactly what was going on from Shou’s chosen lair around the back of the building.

Shou’s glare suggested that Teru might have pointed this out one too many times.

They’d relocated to the roof of the building across the other side of the street from the government stronghold, hoping to get a better view. Bright sunlight gleamed across the empty space, glinting off the satellite disks and air conditioning units the two crouched amongst, peeking over the edge of the building to survey the site. Yet the only movement below was the usual traffic of busy pedestrians, scurrying along the street like ants. The building revealed nothing new. It was time for them to try breaking in.

Shou continued voicing his plan aloud, not bothering to wait and see if Teru had any suggestions.

“We wait invisibly by the door, until someone opens it for us. Then we can slip through-”

“What, no handy key-card for this one?”

“They change the system too often,” Shou snapped. “Both times I managed to steal one, it stopped working within a month. But this is how I’ve gotten in before without setting off any alarms – I know my way around inside.”

He turned suddenly to fix Teru with an almost accusatory stare – or, maybe that was just Teru’s imagination. “You can make yourself invisible, right?”

Teru drew himself up, insulted. “Of course I can.”

“Good.” Shou nodded, and started to turn back to the building. Teru took advantage of Shou’s attention elsewhere, and flexed a bit of his power. “So we get in, stay invisible, and search the place until we find Reigen, figure out everything that’s keep-”

“And what if we can’t find him?” Teru cut in quickly. “Who knows how long it might take us to find Reigen, just by snooping around, having to be quiet to keep anyone from noticing.”

Shou snorted. “I know where they keep prisoners. My pops is-”

“Your father is an ultra-powerful terrorist turned long-term prisoner. Reigen is a guy they only just grabbed off the street, for reasons unknown, who has zero psychic ability. In my hardly-uneducated opinion, I sincerely doubt they’d waste one of the super-protected cells on him.”

Shou rolled his eyes. “Damn, guy gets kidnapped once and thinks he’s an expert.”

“I’ve never been kidnapped,” Teru said instantly. Shou opened his mouth to argue, but Teru beat him to it. “I walked into the Seventh Division headquarters on my own volition, to help Shigeo get Ritsu back. Who, I should mention, had been kidnapped. It took two Claw-tier espers, taking me by surprise, in their own base, to capture me. After I’d incapacitated more than one of them in that night alone.”

Teru was breathing too hard; as soon as he noticed, he forced himself to relax. “As a child, I evaded several kidnapping attempts and acquired a large amount of information about the process. I think it’s a reasonable guess that Reigen might be in a different part of the building.”

“Ah. Yeah, Claw does, I mean did, like to go after the little kids. They’re much easier to manipulate that way, ya know.” Shou’s gaze was unnerving. “They get your folks, too? That why you live alone?”

“Of course not,” Teru said, instantly defensive. “The first time was a bit of a close call, I suppose, but I handled it.  And they… we were... more prepared, after that.”

Shou was looking at him oddly; clearly interested, but not reacting in quite the way Teru would have expected. It put Teru on edge; he was getting tired of how carefully he had to tiptoe around Shou.

“The point is, I think it’d be good to have a backup plan,” Teru said briskly. “For example: if it’s taking too long to find Reigen, or… any other issues, I can cause a distraction.” Teru brought one finger up to his chin in a thoughtful manner. “If we make them think someone is attacking, part of their defense system will undoubtedly involve some people going directly to Reigen’s location. They’ll lead us to Reigen while I keep up the distraction, and then we'll sneak him out under its cover.”

Now it was Shou who looked offended. “Do you think I can’t come up with distractions?”

“I would never suggest such a thing,” Teru said, with utmost sincerity. “It’s just that, I am, perhaps, a bit more talented at distractions that don’t also require anything to be set on fire.”

"Quite talented,” said Teru, from just behind Shou’s left shoulder.

“Probably the best in the world at distraction; it’s just one of our vast array of talents,” said Teru, from directly behind Shou’s right shoulder.

“Probably the best in the world at distraction; it’s just one of our vast array of talents,” said Teru, from just behind Shou’s right shoulder.

Shou launched himself five meters straight into the air, simultaneously forming a blob of bright energy in his fist. Teru had expected some kind of retaliation at being surprised, of course, but had underestimated just how quickly a spooked Shou would respond to a perceived threat. The first psychic clone managed to dodge Shou’s blast completely, but the second suffered singeing to its entire right side. Teru sighed disapprovingly.

“Wow, you really can’t take a joke, can you?”

Shou’s eyes were large with fury, and for once, he seemed too angry even to speak. Teru’s clones took advantage of the silence.

“Teru’s the best at jokes; you should feel lucky to have the chance to be part of one,” Clone One said in pompous, chiding tones.

“Teru’s right,” said Clone Two, voice slightly more irritated than the first as it patted anxiously at its smoldering hair. “Do you even know what some of the old Black Vinegar kids would do for the honor of having a joke played on them by Teruki Hanazawa?”

Teru hastily waved a hand, dispelling the clones before they could say any more. Teru had discovered somewhat to his chagrin that, unless he was actively directing the clones, they behaved and spoke much more like he had before meeting Shigeo than he did now – they didn’t have as much of a filter as Teru would have liked.  

“So you see,” Teru said smoothly, “I can lead any meddlesome government employees away, while we remain invisible. Should such an occasion be necessary.

Shou returned slowly to the ground, eyes narrowing as he peered at Teru with suspicion.

“If you’re so eager to demonstrate your talents, you should probably show me your skills at invisibility as well.”

Teru put a hand to his chest. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“Show me, Hanazawa.”

Teru tched, but complied with a pulse of power, concentrating on bending light. He kept his face as smooth as possible, so as not to reveal just how much effort he had to pour into this particular trick.

Shou inspected him carefully, eyes squinting in the bright sunlight.

“Hanazawa… is it just me, or is your gaudy-ass aura still perfectly, fully visible?”

Teru released the power instantly, reappearing.

“It’s perfectly suitable for most occasions!” Teru said quickly. “It… it simply goes... rather against my nature to hide my gifts. I've honed them so specifically for different tasks-”

“Oh my god.” Shou dragged a hand down his face. “You’re so goddamn extra that you’re literally having trouble with invisibility. Oh my god.”

Teru folded his arms across his chest. “Only espers can detect me. And given proportion of people we’ve seen entering and exiting the building, it’s far more likely that a non-esper will be the next person to appear.” Teru moved his hands to his hips. “And I’d like to point out, if we’re going to discuss the gaudiness of one’s aura-”

Shou’s face was turned to the sky, as if seeking guidance. He took a deep breath.

“Ok. You know what: fuck it. We’ll just have to try and avoid any espers in there altogether. Let’s get this over with. The sooner we get Shigeo’s master back, the better.”

Teru was just as eager to be done with Shou, and contemplated multiple possible replies. Rejecting all of them in favor of simply not granting that comment a response, Teru turned and led the way to the rooftop access door. He pointedly ignored the irritated muttering from his companion as they let the door swing shut behind them, cutting off the brilliant sunlight, swallowing them in the darkness of the descending stairwell.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 fanfiction #serirei #shifting perspectives #-collapses- I MADE IT BEFORE THE TRIP #my fics

[waveswordswhispers]

Not A Simple World Chapter One: A Warping Mark

Soukoku Week Day Seven: Free Day

Summary: 

"Hey, Chuuya," Dazai murmurs, gripping Chuuya's arm gently. "Do you trust me?"

Chuuya rolls his eyes.

"Dazai," he scoffs, yanking his arm out of Dazai's hold and jamming his foot into the other's knee for a good measure. "I wouldn't trust you to even throw out the trash properly."

"That hurts," Dazai feigns, clutching his heart.

"We're. Not. Allies."

"No?"

"No. You need me to take down the Guild, I need you to figure out who murdered Poe. That's all."

Dazai sighs, shaking his head slowly.

"So serious."

Chuuya whirls around and doesn't offer a reply.

"I wonder," Dazai's voice is too soft for Chuuya to hear. "What happens after this, when you stop being useful."

Gifted to @senren for dragging me into this hell

@soukokuweek

When Chuuya's ten, his soulmate mark shows up. It's a light, pretty blue, the kanji wrapping around his wrist, nearly unreadable. It is for a while, Chuuya not really paying attention to it, because why should he? Time, there's plenty of that and he's in no rush.

When he's sixteen, it changes. It darkens, the nearly unnoticeable colour rapidly bolding with a tint of red, the kanji violently twisting and curling around his wrist now. 治. 痛み. Osamu. Pain . Chuuya hides it when Kouyou inquires about the transformation. It's fine. He shakes it off. He might not even meet his soulmate, it's fine .

Four years later, when Chuuya's twenty, it warps again.  

A voidless black, it blossoms, creeping up over the palm of his and forearm, standing out starkly against his pale skin. 

太宰治. 死. Dazai Osamu. Death. Thankfully, the kanji is still hard to read and other assume it's a flamboyant soulmate mark. Chuuya never gives anyone the chance to stare at it long enough to decipher what it actually says, but it's hard to hide it from Kouyou. She voices her concern but Chuuya assures her that it's nothing. It seems unlikely that he'll meet this soulmate of his in the peaceful world he lives in.

When he's twenty four, now working in the police force, it slowly recedes, withdrawing until it forms a perfect circle, blood red this time. 太宰治. 危険. Dazai Osamu. Danger. It's much more real this time, in his line of work, danger is a very large part of his life. Ranpo, his partner comments on it casually, and Chuuya accepts that the chances of him meeting this Dazai may not be so slim anymore.

The first time they meet, it's coincidental. Chuuya's at the cafe Kouyou owns, working on a case. It's fairly busy yet quiet, and Chuuya has an unlimited supply of coffee so it's the perfect place to work at when he needs to stay up late, and he doesn't want to work in the silence of his own apartment. Usually people leave him alone but today, it's different. "Is this seat taken?" Chuuya glances up, eyeing the man before shaking his head. He sits down, humming a cheerful tune. "Ah, a police officer." The man's voice is light, cheerful and Chuuya doesn't think anything of it. "Yeah." "Could I perhaps," the man leans forward, cup of coffee dangerously close to some sheets that could warrant murder if they were ruined. "Get your name?" The question seems innocent enough and Chuuya shrugs. "Chuuya Nakahara," he replies without a second thought, shutting his laptop, and reaching for his cup of coffee while gathering the files. "Is that so?" Chuuya gives the man a strange look, noting the tone but ignores it, tucking the files into his bag. "How about yours?" "My name?" the man smiles sweetly. "It's Dazai Osamu." Chuuya's blood freezes. Dazai Osamu, Dazai Osamu, Dazai Osamu. The name pounds in his head like a drum. He drops his cup and it shatters and Kouyou looks up, eyebrows raising as Dazai's hand snakes out, grabbing Chuuya's arm, flipping it and quickly skimming over the kanji on Chuuya's wrist. Chuuya's breath seems to be stuck in his throat because he can't, can't be meeting his soulmate right now . "Ah," Dazai tuts. "I thought so. Such a pretty mark. Suits you and I." Chuuya nearly snaps at him, but decides against it, the iron grip on his wrist serving as warning to how strong Dazai is. "Well," Chuuya manages to grit out as Akutagawa starts cleaning up the shattered cup, Gin constantly nagging him about wearing gloves. "What about yours?" "My mark?" Chuuya's lips curl into a snarl and he bites back a sarcastic, "No, your dick." "Yes," he growls, just barely managing to keep his voice at a manageable level. Akutugawa and Gin are still cleaning up but it's clear they're tuning into the conversation not so discreetly, Gin trying a little to hard to mop up the coffee meticulously, Akatugawa examining the shards of the cup with great scrutiny. "I would show you," Dazai murmurs, his voice dropping, "but then," his lips just brush the shell of Chuuya's ear. "You'd have to arrest me for public indecency, officer. " The last word sends a chill up Chuuya's spine and he flushes a bright red. Akutugawa and Gin have always had sharp ears so there's no surprise when Gin drops the mop, smacking Akutawaga in the head which in turn causes him to cut his hand on a shard. Kouyou runs over right away, taking a towel to stem the bleeding while both Gin and Akutagawa make unidentifiable noises. Among the panicked yells and shrieks, Dazai saunters out, winking at Chuuya. Chuuya's hands curl into into fists and he mutters, "Asshole," under his breath.

After that meeting, Chuuya really digs desperately. He dives into the thousands of files the police force has and looks for one name, Dazai Osamu. It's hard to keep anything from Ranpo so and Chuuya's not exactly in the best state of mind to even try. Surprisingly, when Chuuya grudgingly tells Ranpo about the meeting, Ranpo doesn't tease him. Instead, he starts to sift through the files with Chuuya. "I've heard of that name somewhere," he echoes grimly, his normally half lidded eyes snapping wide open to show his brilliant green eyes as he puts on his glasses. "And with that appearance you described, it doesn't give me a good feeling." In the end, when they do find the file, it's thick, heavy and makes Chuuya feel dread as he opens it tentatively. Ranpo offers to leave him alone but Chuuya declines and asks him to stay. Ranpo is quiet as Chuuya flips through the file quickly, intending to a more thorough reading afterwards. Dazai Osamu. Orphaned at a young age. Adopted by Mori Ougai, current Mafia boss. Next in line for the position. The list of crimes he's been suspected of but never convicted of runs longer than Atsushi's list of unfortunately common injuries. It's a lot. Chuuya's in deep shit. Ranpo seems to know this as well but he takes off his glasses, he relaxes again. "Well I mean," he sings, "worse case scenario, he kills you to stop you from interfering with him and then I get a new and utterly incompetent partner." Ranpo stands up, texting someone while stretching out his back. Chuuya stares at him, not sure whether Ranpo's trying to insult or compliment him. Ranpo is halfway out the office before he pokes his head back in. "Oh yeah, please don't die." A compliment then. "It would take me forever to adjust with someone else after working with your horrible-" He ducks as Chuuya launches a balled up piece of paper at him , not letting him finish his sentence. "Pretentious ass!" Ranpo's reply is lost when Poe's excited voice washes over it, the stupid raccoon making a screeching noise. Chuuya rolls his eyes and goes back to the file.

Dazai leaves him alone for the next four years and Chuuya pushes him out of his mind and concentrates on work. He and Ranpo rise through the ranks, their competitive personalities somehow blending together to make a perfectly dangerous combination. Sure, it gets out of hand sometimes but it's a nice partnership that Chuuya never gets bored with.

And of course, peace never lasts, truces are broken and good things must come to an end.

#soukokuweek #soukoku #osamu dazai #nakahara chuuya #edogawa ranpo #yosano akiko #ozaki kouyou #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa gin #bungou stray dogs

[chroniccombustion]

Caught in the Grey (ch 3)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Kanji Tatsumi, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter ->

Something is wrong. Yosuke is in the hallway outside their classroom by the time Souji and Kanji have parted ways, backed against the wall by a fuming Chie and a scowling Yukiko. There is a bright red handprint burning across the side of Yosuke’s face. “You!” Chie snarls, fists balled at her sides. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been acting like a jackass all week!”

Chapter 3: The Walls You Made

“You were falling away, you left me with a bittersweet taste But when I send my heart your way, it bounces off the walls you made, ricochet…”

- (“Ricochet”, Starset)

November

 The week stretches on after Souji’s return to school and, for the most part, life has gone back to normal.

There are a few exceptions, of course, such as the newfound rush of safety he feels whenever he and Naoto spot each other in the hallways. The short smiles he gives them are lighter, freer than they would have been the week prior, and in response Naoto’s smiles are soft and warm and reach their eyes without any of the unsurety he knows they still harbor when it comes to actually having friends. He thinks that might be another reason the two of them click so well; Naoto’s used to isolation, too.

The physical kind as well as the mental.

Another happy exception to the normality of everyday life is the way Kanji has taken to meeting him a short distance from school and walking in with him in the mornings. It’s nice, and seeing the way Kanji’s face lights up and his shoulders relax makes Souji happy in ways he can’t quite describe. It reminds him just a bit of when Nanako shows off something she did in class and it makes his heart pulse with pride.

Souji loves all of his friends, of course, and he loves helping people (loves feeling needed, wanted, like maybe he’s worth something after all), but he’s still not used to having people around him, even after months. Souji hates to admit even to himself, but he isn’t sure how to be a friend; there’s a tiny part of him that wonders if he’s only been going through some kind of pre-set motions. He usually tries to discard that thought immediately and replace it with the reminder that he enjoys making his friends happy, spending time with them, doing things with them and not just for them. It helps, if only for a while.

With Kanji and Naoto, though, it seems deeper. He wouldn’t say they’re more important because that sounds too cold, but he acknowledges that those two are definitely in a category all their own. They share secrets with him, and he them – that’s a level of trust and comradery that Souji’s never experienced before.

He’s noticed he tends to put his friends into groups, just for his own mental benefit. Chie was the first person that extended a friendly hand right after he’d arrived in Inaba. Yosuke came soon after, yes, but Chie beat him to it by a day, so Souji counts her as his first friend here. Yukiko, too, though she hadn’t had much time and wasn’t there with them upon their first visits to the TV world, but Yukiko and Chie are a pair and Souji can’t think of one without the other. Separate people, but very much part of a whole.

Teddie and Nanako are in a group together, too, one that overlaps Rise in a kind of venn diagram. Teddie is like an excitable younger brother – not his own, but more like the Group Little Brother – and the bear’s adoration for Nanako is so precious that Souji thinks it might rival his own a little. Nanako is family and Teddie is team family and Rise is something similar that Souji can’t quite name. He likes her, respects her for her strength and willingness to take control of her own life despite her fear. She’s open in a way that Souji wishes he could be, still has an innocence that reminds him of Teddie and Nanako only different, and while Souji can’t give her what she wants in terms of love, she is still dear to him. She’s known loneliness, too, just like him, just like Teddie and Nanako and, well, all of them, it seems; a group of lonely people seeking solace in each other.

Souji desperately doesn’t want to be lonely anymore.

But that’s the other exception to how the week has returned to usual: a special, terrible kind of lonely ache that only comes when someone you care about wants nothing to do with you. An ache Souji is so, so horribly familiar with.

Yosuke is avoiding him.

Midweek rolls around and whatever rift has formed in their friendship has only seemed to widen. Souji is especially grateful to Kanji for walking the last fifteen or so minutes to school with him because Yosuke doesn’t wait for Souji at their usual spot in the mornings to walk together, nor does he show up when Souji waits for him. In fact, it almost seems like Yosuke has started timing his arrival to the classroom so that he just barely makes it into his seat before the teacher walks in. Souji wonders if Yosuke has been hiding in the hallway until the very last minute.

He disappears at lunch, too, dashing off as soon as the break begins and only coming back just as the bell sounds, ensuring the absolute minimal amount of interaction possible. During the time where they’re all actually in class isn’t any better because his evasive behavior from Tuesday has been ramped up to 11. He’s jittery and distracted, refusing to look directly at Souji even when he’s forced to and instead looking just past Souji’s shoulder or somewhere near their desks. He doesn’t speak to Souji unless Souji speaks to him first, and only then in short, non-committal responses – and only if he absolutely cannot pretend he didn’t hear him in the first place.

But it gets weirder. Despite doing everything possible to keep from having to talk to or make eye contact with him, Yosuke does an awful lot of looking at Souji when Souji isn’t looking directly back. He keeps staring when he thinks Souji doesn’t know, and more than once Souji catches Yosuke giving him strange looks out of the corner of his eye, only for Yosuke to look away as if electrocuted when he notices Souji has seen him. Like Souji’s gaze is somehow toxic.

It’s maddening.

It hurts.

On top of all that, the apathetic silence and constant staring, Yosuke also seems… nervous? Uncomfortable? Something around him, and Souji isn’t sure but he thinks it might be the same kind of uncomfortable that Yosuke had been around Kanji in the tent during the camping trip. That leaves a whole new kind of bitter taste in his mouth, a familiar tightness in his heart. But Souji has no idea what’s brought it on; it makes him question if this is still about Souji disappearing after the pageant and not telling Yosuke where he went. Is Yosuke that upset that Souji didn’t back him up against Chie the day Souji had come back? Or is he annoyed that Souji hadn’t been there to ogle swimsuits with him during the second pageant? Or is it something else entirely?

Whatever it is, Souji wants his friend back – and for whatever his partner is doing to stop.

After class is no different. It’s the same story every day, that he has a shift he has to rush off to, to the point where, for two days in a row, he didn’t even bother to give Souji the opportunity to say goodbye as Yosuke was rushing out the door. It’s hard not to take it personally, and Souji has taken to reaching desperately across the Wheel of Fortune and Emperor bonds just to feel that warm, golden thrum and keep himself from sinking into a familiar pool of sadness and dread.

Because Souji can feel the Magician arcana stretching thinner, can feel its edges fraying, and it feels like the floor is dropping out from under him in his helplessness to stop it.

This isn’t what his friendship with Yosuke is supposed to be like – Yosuke is sunlight and smiles, someone he can lean on and who leans on him without shame, whom Souji is happy to help support. They’re partners, damnit, and no matter how bad things got they were supposed to work to keep it that way.

He tries to avoid going to Junes for as long as he can because he doesn’t want that to be another place where Yosuke runs away from him. He doesn’t want Yosuke to feel trapped, but he also wants to give his partner the benefit of the doubt for as long as he can. If he’s honest with himself, Souji is terrified that he’ll get there and find out Yosuke never had a shift at all.

The house needs groceries, though, and Nanako has that look about her that says she needs a bit of cheering up, so on Thursday he texts Teddie to ask if the little bear is working and what time he goes in. He still owes his strange friend an in-person apology, after all, even though he’d called him after school on Tuesday. Teddie of course is elated and informs Souji that his shift starts at 5:00, so Souji wraps his sister’s tiny hand in his own and plasters an exhausted smile onto his face.

They meet Teddie (who arrives in his human form), outside Junes, where he proceeds to throw himself bodily at Souji and wrap practically every limb he has around Souji’s waist. Souji just awkwardly pats at Teddie’s head and lets the boy hang off him in what has to be the world’s most bizarre attempt at reverse-mitosis. Thankfully, Teddie had been so emotional over the phone when Souji had first called him that he’d forgotten to ask why Souji had run off in the first place. Souji uses this to his advantage as he recounts the same story he’d used for everyone else, playing up that he’d been “perfectly fine” until he “suddenly felt very sick.”

Teddie sniffles in that overdramatic way of his and raises watery eyes, informing Souji, “You leave it to me next time, okay, Sensei? I’ll come over and take the beary best care of you!”

Souji smiles and tells him “thank you” and pointedly does not let on how uncomfortable that statement makes him feel. Teddie is incredibly sweet, but good intentions or not, he knows little about the human world and Souji doesn’t feel like getting sick for real.

(There are a myriad of other reasons he doesn’t want to ever have to take Teddie up on that offer, but Souji stuffs them into a box in the corner of his mind and tapes it shut as best he can. Just more things he doesn’t want to think about.)

They talk for a few minutes more before Souji, casually as can be, asks Teddie if he’d like to go grocery shopping with Nanako before his shift starts.

Nanako and Teddie both instantly perk up with an excited “Can we?!”

Souji nods. The two of them run inside and Souji finds a place to sit down and wait. He trusts Teddie, even if the bear is a handful sometimes, and this way Nanako gets to spend time with her friend while still getting the shopping done. He only feels a little bit bad about manipulating them like this, but neither of them had needed any kind of pushing, so it isn’t like he’d done anything too horrible. He lets himself get away with this one, if only because of how happy Nanako had looked.

And this way, Souji doesn’t have to run the risk of bumping into Yosuke. Or worse, not bump into him and be given undeniable proof that Yosuke wants nothing to do with him.

Souji abruptly switches directions, deciding to try and keep his mind from spiraling again by going to look for the stray cats that sometimes hang around the Junes dumpsters until Nanko is comes back.

Trying to text Yosuke outside of school and around his supposed shifts proves just as fruitless as everything else. Souji texts and texts and texts, has pulled up Yosuke’s number more than once and held his thumb over the call button for ages before chickening out and shutting his phone. There is barely any answer. If he responds at all it’s with things like “k” or “yea” and maybe a smiley but nothing else. Souji must be extra lucky that night, because Yosuke finally messages him back hours and hours later with “srry @ work” after Souji had sent him an “I miss you, Partner,” right after leaving school.

So Souji decides to stop trying to apologize, to stop waiting for a response, to just stop trying at all. He doesn’t want to, wants to try and stick it out for a while longer, (just a little, just a day or two, maybe he’ll come around, maybe he’ll like me again), but Souji has already given far too many people far too long and he’s tired of waiting for something that’s never going to come.

The dark, resentful little voice in his head tells him he really must be a Fool if he ever could have thought Yosuke would be any different. It whispers that the case is over, Kubo was caught, and now Yosuke doesn’t need him anymore.

He never cared about you, it hisses, he only cared about your help. You only have worth as long as you’re useful, remember?

It threatens to break him, but he’s picked himself up off the floor after being shattered completely in the past; he’s learned by now how to make it so that he only cracks instead of splinters.

So he builds the wall back up around his heart and prepares himself for the end of an era. Friday morning, just as he’s heading out the door to go meet up with Kanji, he sends one last message that he knows probably won’t be read until long after it no longer matters.

Seta Souji: I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.

He turns his phone off and leaves it in his bag where he doesn’t have to look at it.

 ---

 Something is wrong.

Yosuke is in the hallway outside their classroom by the time Souji and Kanji have parted ways, backed against the wall by a fuming Chie and a scowling Yukiko. There is a bright red handprint burning across the side of Yosuke’s face.

“You!” Chie snarls, fists balled at her sides. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been acting like a jackass all week!”

Yosuke’s face is oddly devoid of anything as he says, “Chill out, Chie, it was just a joke.”

Yukiko’s hackles rise impossibly higher and she holds up a hand palm out as if to slap him again. She opens her mouth to say, “It wasn’t funny!” just as Chie barks, “Like hell it was!”

Yosuke flinches involuntarily, but his face remains impassive, even as the other students milling about the hallway begin to gather and stare. He gazes back at the two girls with lightless eyes.

He tisks. “Yeah, well, you’re girls, of course you wouldn’t get it; it’s guy humor.”

Chie crowds in closer until she’s right up in Yosuke’s face and he’s looking down his nose at her, going slightly cross-eyed in the process. “You think you’re such hot shit,” she seethes, and even from a few feet away, Souji can feel the anger rolling off of her. She pushes a finger into Yosuke’s chest, hard, and says, “We put up with your nasty ‘jokes’ and your weird staring because you’re our friend, but there’s a limit, Hanamura! And you’re freaking pushing it.”

“Girls don’t like it when you say things like that,” Yukiko adds, voice low and sharp and cold in a way Souji doesn’t think he’s ever heard from her before. “If your brand of humor makes other people uncomfortable, then it isn’t really humor at all, it’s gross.”

Souji feels something acidic churning in his gut. Yosuke has always had a penchant for dirty jokes and gutter-minded trains of thought, but he’d been doing better lately, had slowed his lewd comments considerably in the months since the IT had woven itself to near family-like tightness. Souji had wanted to believe that most of the remaining perviness was just harmless, friendly banter – especially since it was usually aimed at Chie, who could throw a few good barbs right back and never lace them with any real heat. But that was before the pageant, and now Souji has the vile, disheartening suspicion that whatever Yosuke has done to get the girls so angry is linked to that. He thinks back to the comments Yosuke had made about the girls on stage on Tuesday and Souji feels his heart convulse.

You really were wrong about him, weren’t you?

As if he’d somehow heard Souji’s darkening thoughts, Yosuke’s eyes finally veer away from Chie and off to the side – where they grow almost comically wide as he catches sight of Souji standing not five feet away.

Souji doesn’t know what his face looks like, but whatever Yosuke sees there must stun him into silence. They stare at each other for several tense seconds – the first eye contact Yosuke has made with him in days.

Yukiko and Chie both notice Yosuke’s sudden change in demeanor and turn to follow his panicked line of sight. It’s enough to break whatever spell he’s under, because the moment their attention is focused on Souji, Yosuke shoves his arm between them and slips out from where they’ve kept him trapped against the wall.

“Whatever,” he spits, face locking down as he turns his back to Souji. “You guys throw your hissy fit, I’m goin’ to class.” He tugs his headphone up over his ears and stalks the rest of the way down the hall, disappearing into the classroom like a sulking child.

A piece of Souji’s heart chips off and falls away.

“Asshole,” Chie growls after him, even though Yosuke is long gone. She plants her fists on her hips, turning back to Souji and heaving out an aggravated sigh. “Hi,” she says, and it’s very much tinged with something Souji knows isn’t directed at him.

“Uh, hi,” he says, unable to keep from frowning. “What happened?”

The warning bell sounds and Yukiko, who has been glowering in the direction Yosuke left, waves a hand at them both over her shoulder. “We’ll tell you at lunch,” she says, and her voice is still that low-simmering ire. It’s terrifying, even if Souji isn’t on the receiving end of it. She starts walking towards the classroom, shooting heated glares at anyone still lingering nearby. “For now we should hurry before we’re late.”

Chie nods at him before jogging off after Yukiko, and Souji takes a few extra seconds to try and breathe normally before he joins them. He’s almost the last one into the room by the time he recovers, and he doesn’t even have to look at Yosuke to know his former partner is looking everywhere but at him.

It’s a long, long time until the break for lunch begins.

 ---

 As expected, Yosuke is up and moving practically before the bell has finished ringing. He doesn’t even pretend to be polite this time; the moment the clock hands tick into place he’s shoving his headphones up onto his ears and is out of his seat like the wind caster he is. Nobody tries to stop him, and Souji doesn’t have the will to watch him leave.

With his heart somewhere down near his feet, Souji shifts in his chair until both Chie and Yukiko are more clearly visible without turning his head too far. He moves slowly, in absolutely no hurry to hear whatever it is he’s about to hear. A part of him is torn, of course, because he wants to help his friends, to know what went down in the hallway so he can make everything better – especially for the girls, since it’s obvious they were the ones wronged. On the other hand, Souji isn’t sure he can handle knowing just how badly Yosuke has messed up. This isn’t just a matter of making someone apologize, it’s become a behavioral issue that is clearly disrupting team dynamic and needs to be addressed on a deeper level.

(Not that they really need to be a team in a combat sense much anymore, but they’re all still friends, aren’t they? And friends shouldn’t do whatever the hell Yosuke thinks he’s doing right now.)

Souji sighs and forces himself to look up at his two friends still in the room. “Are you both okay?” he asks first, because that’s the most important thing, even above Yosuke’s bullshit. He looks from one to the other, scanning them with a leader’s eye honed from months in battle.

“Physically?” says Chie, “Yeah, I guess,” She looks to Yukiko, who gives her a quick nod.

Yukiko’s expression is tight as she tilts her head in a way that makes her look like she’s talking to both of them at once – which she likely is. “He tried to pinch my skirt,” she says, and Souji feels his eyes go wide. Her mouth twists. “He didn’t actually touch me, though.”

Chie’s face darkens. “Good thing he didn’t ‘cuz I’d have kicked him so hard his junk would have fallen off.” Her fists clench at her sides the same way they do in battle right as she’s bracing herself for a takedown kick, and Souji instinctively swallows against the way the gesture makes his throat constrict.

He holds his breath just a little too long to be comfortable, trying and not-quite succeeding to steel himself for the conversation ahead. “What happened?” he asks, and his voice isn’t real, isn’t his. It’s ‘Leader’, ‘Friend’, one of the dozens of masks he wears when he needs to (he always needs to) when he has a specific task to complete (he always does) and needs to push his own mind as far way from everything as possible (like always).

Chie and Yukiko look at each other, seeming to silently decide who should go first before Chie refocuses on Souji and squares her shoulders. “Okay. So you know how Yosuke’s been a jerk ever since the cultural festival?”

Souji nods. Of course the girls have seen it, too, he thinks; how could they not have when the four of them all sit right next to each other?

He already wishes this were over.

“Well, every time Yukiko or I has tried to call him out on it he just gets all defensive and blows us off.” Chie pulls her phone from the pocket of her green jacket and holds it up like a prop. “I’ve been texting him for days trying to get him to tell me what’s going on and he doesn’t answer! He just sends me those crappy dirty jokes of his or says something really evasive, like…” (and here she drops her voice in a sarcastic imitation of Yosuke’s), “…’can’t talk, I’m at work!’ or ‘lol you’re crazy, Chie!’” She clenches her teeth and makes an aggravated noise in the back of her throat as she roughly shoves her phone back into her pocket. “And the thing is, I know he didn’t work on Wednesday, because I had to stop by Junes for my mom and I ran into Teddie, who told me Yosuke had the day off!”

I knew it.

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of his lungs. Everything he’d been hoping he was wrong about has been thrown directly back at him; the last trickle of faith he’d been so desperately clinging to, the hope that his partner might not have been lying to his face and avoiding him, it all disintegrates like paper in a blaze.

He thinks maybe if he wasn’t sitting down, if he couldn’t feel the chair, hard and solid beneath his legs, then he might just fall away and be swallowed up, too.

Oblivious to Souji’s encroaching disassociation, Chie sits back with a scowl and snorts harshly through her nose. “And his ‘jokes’? They’ve been really bad this week. Like, they were never good, but they’ve been getting worse – now they’re just straight up gross and it’s been making me super uncomfortable.”

It’s like there are screws being twisted into his skin; cold and metallic and so sharp that it’s barely painful but still stings with the bite of bitter frost. Nervous energy crackles along his limbs as though the flight half of his fight-or-flight instincts is trying to wrest away any control he has left over his body. He doesn’t want to hear this.

Yukiko nods, eyes narrow. “He’s been doing similar things to me, too. I ran into him on my way home yesterday and when I tried to ask him why he looked so sad, he made some comment about me, ‘cheering him up.’ Then he ran off.” She shakes her head. “Even I knew he was being inappropriate. I let it go at the time because it seemed like he was just trying to distract me. ”

Chie tilts her head. “Has he been sending you weird texts, too?”

“Only when I text him first.” Yukiko’s expression goes flat. “He asked me if I had any pictures from the pageant but when I told him I didn’t he asked me to send him a new picture instead.”

The look on Chie’s face implies that she would very much like to roundhouse kick something, but is managing to hold back with just the thinnest thread of restraint. Souji surreptitiously pulls his legs a little further from her reach. He would almost flinch when she turns her focus back to him, but everything is rippling slightly, slowly, like the air is gradually turning to water and he’s already under the surface.

“So yeaaaaah…” she drawls, irritation simmering in the lower notes of her voice. “We tried to corner him this morning; two against one, right? We thought maybe we could get him to explain himself—“

“Because it’s obvious he’s hurting you, too,” Yukiko cuts in, looking at Souji with something like protectiveness, and it catches him off guard so badly that he forgets to exhale again.

Chie nods emphatically. “Right! And we figured if he’s pulling that evasive crap with us then there’s no way you’re having any better luck, what with him running off like his butt’s on fire every time you come near.” She pauses, grimaces – a scrunch of her nose and a turning of her lips. “Eheh. Uhm, sorry.”

Souji blinks. Even before learning about their own messed-up dealings with Yosuke this past week, he wasn’t surprised that his friends have caught on to the way Souji and Yosuke’s friendship has been fraying. They aren’t blind, after all, and by this point they’ve all known each other long enough that it would be hard not to notice that something was up. No, what surprises him is the way Yukiko had seemed more visibly upset about the effects on him than she was about the things Yosuke had said to her, the way Chie makes it sound like she wanted to confront the other boy on his behalf just as much as theirs. One some level he knows his friends care, or at least the stubbornly hopefully pieces of him that still exist after all these years have wanted to believe they did, but knowing and having it proven – even in as small and heavy a gesture as this – are two very different things.

He doesn’t like that this surprises him, just like he didn’t like that he was surprised by Naoto. He’s pretty sure this proves his theory that he doesn’t know how to be a decent friend in return.

He’s forgotten to respond, it seems, but Chie continues. “So we corner him,” she repeats, “and he gets this really funny look on his face and acts like he wants to bolt, but when he can’t he tries to make a crack about my legs and how I should ‘lay off the meat’.”

“And then he compared her legs to mine.” Yukiko taps her short, blunt nails across the top of her desk in annoyance. “Which is when he tried to pinch my skirt and I slapped him.”

“And then you showed up and he ran off,” Chie finishes, before adding, “Or, well, you saw that part.”

Souji just nods again. He can’t do anything else, he feels almost paralyzed. The thought of Yosuke being purposely horrible is so beyond anything he’s ever thought his friend capable of. He wants to cling to what Yukiko said about it seemingly like Yosuke had been pulling a distraction tactic, but even if that’s what the stunt in the hallway was, too, it’s still over the line. As far as he knows, Yosuke has never tried to physically do anything to anybody, and pinching a skirt is pretty minor compared to some of the stories Yukiko has told of drunken businessmen at the inn, but still.

Everything just feels so wrong; not just in the sense that Yosuke is suddenly wildly out of character, but just… everything. Why the change at all? And if it was going to happen eventually, why now of all times? Souji’s mind circles itself, trying to find something to latch onto because the whole situation is missing more than a few pieces and the part of him that just spent several months working to solve a murder mystery is still there, not yet inactive. He can’t tell if it’s only that or if there is still something in him that refuses to let go of his partner even now. Yosuke had inserted himself into Souji’s life so seamlessly that it’s hard for Souji to see what’s left of himself past the jagged outline Yosuke’s departure has left in him.

But he can’t think, and so he’s left sitting there in his own head, grasping at straws and praying one of them will have the answers he desperately hopes are there.

He must have been unresponsive for too long (again), because he blinks and catches the end of the worried look shared between his two friends. He forces himself back out of his thoughts before one of the girls can call him on it and inhales through his mouth to stall for time as he pulls up something to say.

Yukiko beats him to the punch. “Souji-kun… Are you alright?”

He clicks his mouth shut so quickly his teeth sting. The words “I’m fine” sit uncomfortably close to the tip of his tongue and he swallows them back. It would be all too easy to admit just how much like a slow-acting poison Yosuke’s silence, his behavior, has felt; the sinking, sick sensation growing and spreading over the course of the week until Souji can barely breathe. He swallows that back, too. “I’m… concerned,” he settles on, and Yukiko nods in agreement.

“Do you know what might be going on with him, even a little?” she asks, and beside her, Chie gives him an oddly sad look. “This isn’t the Yosuke-kun we know.”

Chie glances from Yukiko to Souji and adds, uncharacteristically quiet, “Yeah. I mean, he’s a pig right now but he’s still one of us. We’re worried.”

As hurt as he is, and as much as he’s ready (or wishes he could be ready) to wall off that tattered bit of his heart, Souji can’t disagree. There is another whispering part of him, softer than the one hissing doubt and pain, that cares about Yosuke, wants him to be alright, even if Souji isn’t. He always did like making people happy.

Souji keeps his back straight but lowers his eyes, unable to hold his shield against the anxious sympathy painted across his friends’ features. He shakes his head. “No,” he admits, and it’s both a relief to admit and a stone in his heart. Saying it out loud always makes it more real, less like a bad dream; the wound might be lanced for a moment but it still bleeds. He sighs, and it’s a shaky, defeated sound. “I don’t. And no it’s not. Whatever is happening, he won’t let me help.”

Yukiko’s shoulders slump, echoed by the way Chie’s face seems to fall even more. They share another look between them – Souji can see them both in his peripherals but he cannot decipher the silent exchange.

If only Yosuke could see the way his friends worry about him, Souji thinks, then maybe he’d stop pushing them away like this. It’s been clear from the very beginning that Souji’s partner has some heavy duty self esteem issues, (his shadow alone had been more than a hint at just how Yosuke saw himself), so it isn’t a stretch to think maybe Yosuke doesn’t know just how valuable he is to his friends, to the team, to Souji, and it hurts somewhere deep, like a broken bone.

Souji feels the black tendrils in his mind starting to tug him lower. Unable to think of anything to say and too afraid of sinking deeper into his own quagmire of negative thoughts, he glances at the clock in case time has decided to be merciful and lunch break is almost over. No such luck.

He frowns. His sense of time is shot. His sense of reality is cracking as well, but time is more important when on a schedule – or when he just wants the day to end. With nothing he can do with the little time remaining, and too much time left to just sit in silence, Souji quietly digs out the bento he’d brought and holds it out in offering towards the girls. He’d brought extra, intending to share it with someone anyway – possibly Kanji – and it’s been a short while since he’s been able to bring anything for Chie or Yukiko. “Does anybody want this?” he murmurs, still not quite able to return his gaze to their faces.

There is a stunted exhale overlapped by what might be a hushed, “Souji-kun,” but he doesn’t raise his eyes from the box in his hand. He is aware – faintly – of how strange it must look for him to switch gears so abruptly, since the others aren’t privy to his coiling lines of thought. Whatever they think of it, though, no one says anything aloud. In fact, a long beat of silence passes before slim, delicate fingers – Yukiko – finally reach out and take the bento from his grasp.

Suddenly Chie’s voice is forcibly-bright, a bottled kind of blue sky amidst dark clouds, plastic-happy and overenthusiastic as she says, “Aw hell yeah! We haven’t had lunch together in ages!” There is a movement on he edge of Souji’s vision that looks suspiciously like an exaggerated fist pump.

His breath catches in a huff as he exhales through his nose, like the mimicry of a chuckle that comes unbidden and tugs inside his chest. It’s enough to let him flick his gaze upwards.

Chie is grinning at him, wide and strained, but it reaches her eyes nonetheless. Beside her, Yukiko holds the now lidless bento between them with a well-crafted smile stretched across her own face. There is still a tight sort of sadness around the edges, but the longer she holds the smile in place the duller those edges become.

“Yes,” she says, and her voice lilts upwards in a very deliberate way that is meant to sound easier than it is. “Have we ever done this with all three of us together? I can’t remember.”

“Hey, no, I don’t think we have! What took us so long?”

The huff of breathy laugh that slips out is a little stronger this time, a little more solid. The weight in his chest is still there, but in this moment, with Yukiko passing the bento off to Chie so she can dig for her chopsticks and Chie “stealthily” grabbing a chunk of meat with her fingertips to pop into her mouth, Souji thinks the weight might be manageable. If only for now.

Thank you, he tells them silently. To say it out loud would be to puncture the illusion they’ve worked so hard to create, and he doesn’t want to ruin the kindness he’s being given. He knows what they’re doing; he’s grateful.

The three of them pick at the food – Chie going for the meat and Yukiko the vegetables while Souji mostly just pokes the rice – until the break runs out. There is still some left at the end, mostly because Souji couldn’t muster up the will to be hungry, but the girls (Chie) have made a much larger dent than he, so it’s not a waste, at least. He gives them a drained, faint smile as the room fills back up with their classmates and is pleasantly startled to find it comes easier than he thought it would.

Yukiko smiles back, eyes crinkling, and Chie shoots him a lopsided grin and a thumbs up. There is a fizzy, pink-yellow warmth that flows along the Priestess and Chariot arcana, and while the flood of light and golden tingling that follows a rising rank doesn’t come, he can feel the threads winding tighter together. It’s comforting – a reminder that even if his Magician bond snaps and dissolves, there are still connections there, he still has friends.

It’s so hard to remember sometimes when all his life there has been a cold, aching loneliness nested deep inside his heart, familiar in a way that old wounds are. But now there is something to chase the hollowness away when the ache threatens to overwhelm him at the loss of his former partner, and Souji allows himself a few precious moments to bask in that sliver of sunlight. He may not share secrets with Chie and Yukiko, but somehow, right now, their brand of protectiveness is just as wonderful.

The warmth stays with him through the duration of the lesson, and distracts him long enough that he doesn’t notice until the start of the next period that Yosuke has yet to return to the classroom.

 ---

 Classes end for the day and still Yosuke does not reappear. Chie and Yukiko haven’t quite gotten over their ire and irritation from earlier, understandably, but there is clear worry there, and nowhere to direct it except at Souji. He appreciates it, wishes he could accept it, handle it like a normal person, but it’s something he hasn’t gotten used to yet and it overwhelms him. It’s comforting but also just the tiniest bit suffocating. That’s why, when they ask if he’d like to walk with them while they go run errands together, he politely declines.

Under better circumstances he would happily spend time with them, would be hard-pressed to say no to something like walking with friends, but he isn’t sure how long he can pretend not to be silently flaking apart inside. He thinks they understand, because Chie gives him a gentle punch to the shoulder – so light it’s more like a tap – and Yukiko gives him a kind smile with eyes that look a little too deeply into him.

“We don’t have any more large groups booked at the inn until mid-month,” she says, (more quietly than a casual statement should warrant), “so I should be pretty free this weekend.”

“You should come train with me again sometime,” Chie chimes in, and Souji notices that her fist hasn’t left his shoulder yet. It’s just sort of resting there, knuckles lightly digging in to the meat of his arm. “I’m gonna be down by the river all morning on Sunday. You’re welcome to join.” She taps him once more with the backs of her fingers before finally moving her hand.

Souji smiles at them. It’s weak, probably, but grateful, and he hopes they can see the honesty on his face as well as they can see his crumbling edges. (And he’s slowly discovering that it isn’t quite so scary right now that people can see the hairline cracks forming along his paper-mache faces, because no one that’s seen them so far has commented. As long as he doesn’t have to acknowledge it out loud he thinks he might be fine.)

It’s fine.

I’m fine.

He walks with Yukiko and Chie to the shoe lockers, where the girls both shoot him a final knowing look before they say their goodbyes and head out together, leaving Souji to gather his thoughts as well as his things. He loiters for a few minutes. Fishing his phone out from where it’s been resting all day with the power still off at the bottom of his school bag, he debates on whether he should turn it back on or not. Eventually he decides against it and drops the phone back into the depths of his bag.

He isn’t in any real hurry to get home, though he also doesn’t exactly trust himself to take his time lest he get too deeply lost in his own head; there is so much he needs to process after this morning, after lunch, the whole damn week. It’s daunting, and he has no idea what kind of person he’s going to have to be to get through this giant, hulking mess. He wonders how thick his walls will have to be by the time this is over, and whether he’ll still have a best friend.

He isn’t certain he can fix this – isn’t certain at this point that he has the strength to try. He wants to, though, and he thinks that might make him stupid. Or desperate. Or both.

Souji sucks in a breath between his teeth and forcibly grounds himself. This, this is what he was afraid of, the creeping wave of negative thoughts that start off small and contemplative and then deceptively turn to something much darker, much heavier, until he’s buried up to this throat in dark water and it’s too late for him to pull back.

No. He refuses to sink right now, not in the middle of school grounds where people can see. One foot in front of the other, he starts to move. He wishes now that he had gone with Yukiko and Chie, if only for the distraction they would have given him.

One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, keep going. Just keep going, don’t think…

“Yo, Senpai!”

Souji stops and snaps around at the familiar voice, a brilliant, soothing flash of gold tugging at the Emperor bond inside his soul.

Kanji waves at him from a short distance away, expression bright and open and happy. When he sees that Souji has stopped walking he quickens his pace to close the gap. “Heh. Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he calls as he approaches, clearly glad to have been proven wrong.

Souji is so, so happy to see him right now. Like Naoto – but for different reasons – Kanji is safe, is good, and even after the revelation on Tuesday, Kanji hasn’t once tried to pry. He could hold it together around Kanji, he thinks.

Souji must look as ragged as he feels, because Kanji’s face falls a bit as he comes to a stop in front of him. “Everything okay, Senpai?” he asks. His plucked-thin brows furrow slightly, curious concern lacing his features.

How Souji was ever nervous around this human ball of mochi, he’ll never know.

Souji doesn’t want to lie to him, not when Kanji’s expression is so earnest. The shield he’d used with Chie and Yukiko was different; they’d somehow seen past it, just a little, and forgiven him for it due to circumstance. To hide behind it now with Kanji would feel wrong.

He sighs. “I’m better now,” he says, deciding to stay at least a little vague. It’s not his place to discuss the hallway incident this morning, anyway.

Kanji gives him a skeptical look; Souji huffs a quiet, humorless chuckle. “It’s nothing. There was an issue this morning but it’s over now.” Well, at least until Yosuke shows back up, but that’s something to think about later when Souji isn’t fighting back the disassociation for the millionth time this week.

Kanji still looks somewhat unconvinced, but he thankfully chooses not to dig. Instead, he stares at Souji for a few more seconds before apparently letting it go. He shrugs. “Okay, well, as long as you’re alright now I guess.”

Souji manages a tired smile. “I am. Thank you, Kanji.” (And if he sees the faintest dusting of pink across his friend’s ear-tips then he stifles the flattered surprise and keeps the knowledge to himself.)

“Y-yeah, no problem, Senpai.” He looks away for a moment and clears his throat. “Anyway, I was wonderin’ if you wanted to walk together?”

(Souji shouldn’t find it adorable, but he does, and he promptly tucks the thought safely away and leaves it be.)

He nods, a tiny, grateful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I would like that.”

Kanji doesn’t verbally respond, just mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “damnit, too cute,” and takes a few steps in the direction of the gate.

Souji falls into step beside him, easily catching up.

  They walk unhurriedly, meandering, sometimes slowing to a stop for a few seconds before continuing on. It’s casual, comfortable (after Kanji gets over his blushing), and it’s exactly the kind of balm Souji needed. He feels the dark spiral in his head slide back, back, until it’s only a weak tingle in the furthest parts of his mind rather than the creeping talons it had been before.

They chat as they make their way to the river out of some kind of absentminded habit, the topics varying from knitting (which Souji wants to learn) to cats to gardening (which Kanji wants to learn) to anything that comes to mind. As they talk, Souji notices that Kanji is more animated than he’s used to seeing. Kanji’s face is expressive and cheerful, his smile easy as he explains some of his personal projects, and it occurs to Souji that Kanji probably doesn’t get much of a chance to talk about the things he enjoys. If Kanji was still guarding himself before out of fear of being judged, having come out as bisexual and receiving nothing but acceptance in return must have broken down that particular section of wall, which Souji now has the privilege of peering through. That odd kind of pride flairs up in him again, and Souji feels his smile stretching wider as Kanji finishes telling a story about making his own sewing patterns.

He wonders just how often in his life Kanji has felt comfortable enough around a person to be this open with them, to talk about his love for cute things without shame. Likely not often, he thinks, and sadness pricks at his ribs. He’s glad he can be a source of happiness for his friend. Kanji certainly deserves it.

By this point they’ve almost reached the floodplain, the familiar stretch of grass and water slowly starting to come into view. Souji is just about to ask if Kanji would consider taking a commission for a gift for Nanako when there comes a sudden thrumming along the Fortune bond. Delighted, he looks up just in time to spot Naoto heading along the path in their direction. He smiles.

“Naoto, hello,” he calls, raising a hand in greeting. Beside him, Kanji chokes on his tongue and turns a glorious shade of dusty pink.

Naoto returns the gesture. “Hello, Senpai, Kanji-kun” they say when they’re close enough to speak without raising their voice, nodding at both of them in turn.

Kanji, to his credit, doesn’t go scurrying away like he usually does when faced with his crush. (Or, well… one of his crushes? Souji isn’t sure if it’s just Naoto at this point, but he’s certainly very amused.) Fighting a smirk, Souji watches his blond friend square his shoulders and force himself into some kind of casual pose that… doesn’t actually look very casual.

“H-hey,” he sputters, and the way his voice cracks ever so slightly is endearing as hell.

Souji wonders if he’s close enough now with either of them to start giving them gentle nudges towards one another. With that fluffy thought threatening to give his smile away, Souji decides to spare Kanji’s nerves for a moment and do the talking. He’s good at this kind of thing, after all. “Would you like to walk with us?” he asks, natural as anything. It doesn’t escape his notice that Naoto has to flick their gaze over to him from where it’s been locked on Kanji.

Naoto gives a thoughtful hum. “Well, I was doing something, but I suppose it’s finished now.” They smile. “Alright, why not?”

They take the free spot on Souji’s left so that he’s flanked on either side by his friends. It’s a good feeling – one he is selfishly going to enjoy until they all have to part ways.

“What were you busy with?” he asks as they all start moving again. Kanji keeps glancing across him over at Naoto on his other side and Souji as has to keep his face in check. He slows his pace just enough that he’s half a step behind them, making it easier for them to see each other past his shoulders. “If I may ask.”

Naoto’s expression twists a little. It’s an odd look, one that is very much a mixture of their ‘Detective Face’ and something else. “To be honest, I was tailing Yosuke-senpai.”

Oh.

Suddenly the warm and happy feeling that’s been buzzing through him sinks to someplace cold and nervous. He’d successfully managed to forget about Yosuke for a while, thanks to Kanji; he’d been perfectly content keeping it that for a while longer.

Trying not to let his fallen mood show, he holds the neutral mask in place even as he lets the smile drop. He has no doubt Naoto has already picked up on it.

It’s Kanji that spares him this time by asking, “Huh? Yosuke-senpai? What’re you followin’ him for?”

Naoto looks over at him. Souji spots the split second where their eyes flick up to study him before switching back to focus on Kanji once more. “I saw him heading to the roof during lunch but I never saw him come back down. Then after classes were over I spotted him by the shoe lockers.”

Souji startles a bit at that. Yosuke had still been at school? When he hadn’t returned to the classroom, Souji had assumed his former partner had just skipped out entirely and left. Apparently not. What would be the point of that? he wonders, and it’s bitterer than he expected. Why not just leave? That’s all he’s been doing all week.

But Naoto isn’t finished speaking, it seems. “He was acting strangely; it almost seemed like he was watching you, Souji-senpai, because I watched him hiding behind the lockers while you were talking to Yukiko-senpai and Chie-senpai. Then when you left he followed you, so I followed him.”

Naoto studies his face for a moment and Souji can’t even begin to imagine what he looks like. Yosuke had followed him? How? Granted, it wasn’t like he had been entirely outside his own head after Chie and Yukiko had left, but he would have noticed at some point, right? With as hyper-tuned to Yosuke as he’s been in the past, then surely…

“Wait,” Kanji says from over on his right. From the corner of his eye he can see Kanji looking at him, mouth twisted downward in a fashion similar to Naoto’s.

Feigning normalcy, he turns his head to give Kanji his attention. Kanji in turn tick his gaze back over to Naoto as if he hadn’t just been giving his senpai a curious stare.

“Where was he? Because when I caught up with Senpai in front of the school I didn’t see Yosuke-senpai anywhere.”

Naoto hums, their lips a tight line. “Yes, I saw all of that. While Yosuke-senpai wasn’t exactly close behind Souji-senpai, he also ran off as soon as you approached. That neither of you noticed him doesn’t surprise me.”

Kanji’s brows furrow, his eyes narrowing beneath them. “That’s…”

“Suspicious?” Naoto supplies, “Worrying? Yes, I agree.”

Souji doesn’t contribute; he’s too busy trying to keep himself grounded in the conversation at hand and not drift away into his own thoughts. He doesn’t know how to process this, doesn’t know what to think. There are so many questions now and he’s tired, he’s just so tired and hurt and he’s sick of being tired and hurt things were supposed to be different here.

“So where’s he now?” Kanji looks around, even checking behind them as if he expects Yosuke to pop out of the bushes and attempt to scare them all like a bad Halloween prank.

Souji hunches his shoulders and tucks his face into the collar of his jacket.

This time when Naoto speaks, though they’re responding to Kanji, their eyes linger on Souji – he can just barely see it past the fabric of his collar. In a way it’s almost… okay, because it gives him something to focus on, even if he doesn’t want eye contact right now. He watches Naoto chew at the corner of their lip while they look at him, likely debating how much they want to say.

After a moment, they finally reply, “He was heading towards the river when I lost track of him. I believe he might still be somewhere nearby.”

Souji freezes in the middle of the path, feeling the blood drain from his face. His lungs stop working, just stop; he cannot remember how to inhale, doesn’t have the ability to exhale, he just stands there with wide eyes and numb lips and burning lungs.

No. No no no, that’s not good, that’s not good. Souji isn’t anywhere near mentally prepared to run into Yosuke right now. Not with everything he’s found out today, not when he just learned that Yosuke, despite having been running from and avoiding him for days, was just secretly following him around less than an hour ago. How the hell is he supposed to process that?

Both Naoto and Kanji have stopped now as well, and are staring at him in concern. “Senpai?” Kanji calls, unsure. “You okay there?”

He feels himself nod but it’s a robotic response, not one of his own bidding. Naoto and Kanji exchange a look.

“Perhaps we should find a different route to take?” Naoto suggests, and Kanji nods in agreement.

He takes a step closer to Souji, raising a hand as if to reach out, when the hurried sound of approaching footsteps becomes audible over the ambience of the nearby river.

Naoto stiffens, and Souji feels his stomach drop out when a familiar voice shouts, “Heeeey! Partner!”

Perfect timing.

The words are tense, drawn-out, laced with a nervous, forced casualness that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He immediately snaps his attention towards the voice, Naoto and Kanji echoing the movement in his peripherals.

Up ahead, from the direction the three of them had been heading in and appearing from seemingly nowhere, is Yosuke. He’s power walking, moving so quickly towards them that he’s nearly jogging, making Souji feel the phantom terror of being closed in on like prey in a corner – like he’s a child again, small and frightened as an angry parent looms. Souji instinctively takes a half-step back.

Naoto takes a full step in response and moves themself in front of him. A second later, Kanji does the same.

“I didn’t realize he was so close,” Naoto whispers through their teeth. It’s a harsh sound, one that’s reminiscent of the way they speak inside the TV world when the group goes (or still went) training – low and tense.

Kanji straightens his spine, bringing himself up to his full height. “What the hell’s goin’ on?” he hisses, and the part of Souji that hears all of this is shocked and almost desperately grateful that Kanji would step to defend him even while having no idea why.

His reaction to Naoto is similar, but he also knows that Naoto at least has an inkling that something is wrong.

Case in point, when Naoto hisses back, “I’m not sure, but clearly something is.”

They stand that way, both Naoto and Kanji just in front of him and each with a shoulder between him and their oncoming teammate, like a living, two-person wall of defense.

Yosuke nearly skids to a stop before them. His face is a wild shade of blotchy red; extreme even for the chill and the way he’d just been moving. In his eyes is a kind of desperate mania that only grows more intense as he snaps his gaze to Souji just over Naoto’s shoulder. “Hey, cool, there you are, just who I needed to see.” He moves sharply, like he’s going to try and step around Naoto or maybe reach across them to pull Souji away, and something about his eyes, the way it looks like Yosuke means to grab at him, suddenly has the anxious, tight feeling inside Souji’s ribcage hatching into full-blown fear.

He doesn’t even know why.

Except yes, you do.

Old terrors come scratching at the base of this skull, threatening to overlay his current situation with others long passed – like a dozen images superimposed on a single camera shot.

Naoto steps to the side to intercept Yosuke, blocking his raised arm with their shoulder. Now behind them, Kanji moves forward and puts his own arm out, slung low so that Souji is ushered more securely behind him again. There is not an ounce of hesitation in either of their movements, both of them ramrod straight and moving fluidly, silently, like the synchronized unit they have trained to be in the TV world. Except this time, they’re in front of their leader, not just beside.

“Hello, Yosuke-senpai,” Naoto says, voice dropped to the smooth, quiet tenor of their Detective Prince guise. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Senpai, you look kinda jacked. You okay?”

Tense as they are, neither Kanji nor Naoto sounds angry or defensive; in fact, other than Naoto’s pitch, they speak as if everything is perfectly normal and it’s just another typical day running into a friend outside of school. It helps a little – a sliver of calm against the surge of muscle-memory fear thrumming in Souji’s bones.

This is so stupid, he thinks, berates himself. They shouldn’t have to defend him, shouldn’t have to protect their leader from a threat that’s probably only in his head. (He should be able to handle this himself, for one thing.) The loyalty isn’t any different from what he’s seen after weeks and months of fighting together, but here, outside of the TV world is different, different, because in the TV they fight for their lives; out here they don’t need to do that. Out here he can’t summon Izanagi – out here he isn’t valuable as a commander, there’s no need.

And it’s clear that neither of them knows what’s going on; hell, even he doesn’t know what’s going on, only that Yosuke has been acting like a completely different person all week and that right now his (former?) best friend is erratic and wild-eyed and it scares him. But apparently that last part is enough for Naoto and Kanji – who can’t possibly know just how irrationally freaked Souji actually is – because here they are, standing squarely between him and someone who is still their friend, too, as far as Souji knows, with wide stances and cautiously amiable voices.

Yosuke glances at Naoto, then Kanji, as if finally noticing them. “Oh hi guys,” he says, and it’s rushed, breathy, like he’s only sparing them the absolute minimum amount of attention. He switches his focus back to Souji, who has to fight not to take another step back.

The way Yosuke is staring, he thinks there should be yellow looking back at him instead of unblinking hazel.

Yosuke rocks forward on the balls of his feet, like he wants to try and reach for Souji again but is holding himself back. He tilts his head and licks absently at his bottom lip. “Hey uh, is it cool if I steal him from you two for a bit? I really need to talk to him.”

“Shouldn’t you be askin’ Souji-senpai if he wants to go with you?” Kanji asks, genuinely innocent. “Cuz yeah, we’re just walkin’ but it seems kinda rude to talk around him like that.” He glances back at Souji, eyes questioning.

Souji barely sees it, fixated as he is on Yosuke – like a rabbit in headlights. His face feels numb, likely pale, and whatever his expression is doing must be the answer to Kanji’s unasked question because Kanji suddenly shifts his weight to better shield him.

Naoto must also notice Souji’s inability to answer, because without even looking behind themself they add, “While I certainly am not trying to police Senpai’s interactions, I have to agree with Kanji-kun.” Souji can only see part of Naoto’s face from the angle he’s at behind them, but what he can see has melted into something concerned yet increasingly wary. “You’re also more than welcome to join us if you want to, Yosuke-senpai,” they say, and it almost sounds less like an offer and more like a tentative suggestion.

Yosuke’s expression darkens in frustration, his face going tight and his jaw clenching as he keeps his features steady. It’s more unnerving than any shadow Souji has ever seen.

“Yeah, no, sorry, Naoto,” he says in that same rushed, breathy way as before, only this time it’s laced with the tension of grit teeth. He tries to smile; it looks like bared fangs. “Thanks for the offer and all that but I really kinda need to talk to Partner alone, you know what I mean?”

Naoto tilts their chin forward and stares him down.

Yosuke stares back for a moment, unmoving, before he apparently concedes the challenge and turns his feral gaze back to Souji, who has unconsciously moved to where he’s almost pressed against Kanji’s spine.

Souji wishes he could remember how to stand like a fighter, how to conjure up that confidence that somehow comes naturally to him in the TV world. He can’t. It’s awful and embarrassing, hiding behind his friends like this, but Yosuke isn’t a shadow, isn’t a formless swath of darkness and negative human emotions that Souji can just swing a sword at and call it done. Fighting otherworldly creatures is one thing, something he’s trained himself to do. Holding his own against people on the other hand – especially someone he should be able to trust – is entirely another, and it’s something the world has taught him he absolutely is not allowed to do.

“Partner,” Yosuke calls, voice borderline pleading and pitched in a way that is probably supposed to be coaxing, harmless. It sounds exactly like what Souji would imagine a starving monster beneath a child’s bed to sound like as it convinced its dinner to join it in the dark below.

Yosuke takes a step forward. “Dude, come on…”

Souji flinches. “No…” he whispers, so faint it’s just a ghost of a breath, and he doesn’t mean to, it just comes out before he can even think to reel it in. And it’s so, so quiet – nothing more than a half-gone memory dripping from his lips, and it takes Souji a second to realize he’d even said anything at all.

But close as he is, Kanji hears it.

Hesitance gone, Kanji positions himself completely in front of his senpai and rolls his shoulders back, pushing his chest out to give his already-decent height even more of a presence. “I don’t think he wants to, Yosuke-senpai,” he says, and in his words is the steely resolution of the boy that fought off a biker gang so many months ago.

Naoto must hear the difference, because their shoulders twitch like they’re mildly startled and they glance behind themself to give Kanji – and in turn, Souji – a tense, questioning look.

In that moment, that singular frame of time where his guards are distracted, Souji sees Yosuke’s threadbare patience snap.

Hazel eyes (not yellow not yellow not yellow) zero in on Kanji’s face, a frustrated, irritated grimace curling at Yosuke’s mouth like a tightening screw. “Look,” he growls, voice cracking, “this is important, okay? You can try and get in his pants or whatever the fuck you’re doing later, but right now I need to talk to him!”

Naoto actually gasps, the sound nearly drowned out by Kanji’s own exclamation of shock.

(Something pulses through the bonds in Souji’s soul.)

Everything happens like flashes of a strobe light, the time between moments obscured and blotted out so that it feels like sound and color and movement are all simultaneous, but split into freeze-frame stills that clumsily overlap. Souji feels the blood in his veins slow with it, suspending him outside the chaos as if he were a bird on a windowsill.

Naoto and Kanji are a whirl of voices, indignant and aghast and rightfully appalled.

“Yosuke-senpai, what in the—?!”

“OI! The hell?! It ain’t like that—!”

“—what is wrong with you?!”

“—you got a problem with me ‘n Souji-senpai bein’ friends?”

(There is another pulse along the bonds.)

Yosuke hunches inward, poised almost like he’s coiling for battle. “’Friends’,” he spits. He slinks to the side in the confusion, weaving as if he’s just shifting his weight to keep the other two in front of him while subtly making his way closer to Kanji’s side, closer to where Souji now stares slack jawed at the unrecognizable mess that was once his closest friend.

This isn’t right, this isn’t right! Why can’t he move?

Yosuke slides back half a step to avoid Kanji leaning low and forward into his space with fist held ready. The movement successfully puts him around Naoto’s other side, just barely too far away for Souji to reach out and touch. “Right, sure, that’s why you’ve been all over him the past week, isn’t it? Completely innocent, no ulterior motive whatsoever—“

“What the fuck?!”

“Yosuke-senpai, you are entirely out of line—“

“Like hell I am!”

(Another pulse. It’s almost like a heartbeat now.)

Yosuke dodges an arm swung his way, ducking under it and wrapping his fingers tight and burning around Souji’s frozen wrist. “Come on, dude; let’s get out of here and find somewhere safer—“

(The pulse becomes a pounding. Izanagi roars inside his mind.)

Quick as the lightning he commands, Souji’s everything flares back into life, shattering the strobe effect of his perception of time as something hot and angry surges beneath his skin. He twists his arm like he’s a statue turned to vibrant flesh and turns it in Yosuke’s grasp so that he’s the one now digging his blunted nails into the other boy’s wrist.

“No,” he seethes, and for a moment the whole world seems to tint a glowing, vicious shade of yellow.

Too far. Yosuke’s gone too far; months of fighting together, of Kanji proving himself over and over, both in battle and as a friend, of being far too lenient of Yosuke’s homophobic barbs. Everything they’ve all been through together, and Yosuke still thinks of Kanji as something vile?

And you let it happen, Souji’s mind whispers. You let him say those things and now look where we are. The pit of his stomach turns sour.

He grinds his teeth. Not anymore.

He throws Yosuke’s hand off of him, ignoring the other boy’s shocked outburst.

“Dude! What the hell?”

“Quiet.”

Souji’s voice is dark, deceptively calm. He feels it rumble in his own chest, vibrating like unspent electricity feverishly searching for a conductor. The noise around him instantly snuffs out; the cacophony of overlapping voices, the shuffle of bodies and their feet against the path, even the rush of the river appears to obey him and dull to nothing in his ears. He pulls himself up – spine, shoulders, neck – until he’s standing at his full height and looking down at the boy slowly turning white as a sheet before him. He’s never been more than an inch or so taller than Yosuke, but now, staring him down with a rising wave of newfound courage and wrath, Souji seems to tower over him.

Never again.

“How dare you,” he whispers, and in the sudden ringing quiet it sounds like distant thunder. He takes a step forward. Beside him, Naoto and Kanji fall back. Their eyes are wide, fixed on him as though mesmerized, and in his peripherals he can seem them instinctively take up their usual battle formation; not poised for attack, but readily defaulting to their positions behind their commander. He takes another step.

Yosuke looks absolutely shell-shocked. He gapes at Souji as he approaches, still standing exactly as he’d been when Souji had shoved his hand away. “P-partn—?”

“Don’t.”

Yosuke jerks like he’s been burned and takes a half step back. “Come on, man, what’s—?”

But Souji cuts him off again. “I said,” he hisses, “be quiet.”

Yosuke closes his mouth with an audible ‘click.’

“What,” Souji says, dark and resolute as iron, “is your problem?” He advances another step, crowding into Yosuke’s bubble, and the other boy quickly shuffles backwards a few more feet. Souji holds his ground. “It’s been months, Yosuke, and you’re still on this? How fucking dare you.”

The stunned faces he gets in response feels validating – he knows he doesn’t curse out loud very often, let alone like this, and the aura of authority that settles back over his shoulder as the words leave his lips is a familiar, invigorating weight. There it is; “Leader”, “Commander”, “Sensei”, “Senpai”, there it is! It wells up from within him like an endless tide, drowning out the cloistering fear from before and imbuing him with a stronger, more permanent kind of resolve.

This is what he should have been all along, the kind of leader he should have been for his team, one that can stand up for them instead of just giving them orders. He’s let this slide for far too long, should never have let it start to begin with – and for what? Out of fear? Because of the anxious voice in his brain that tells him he’ll risk Yosuke’s opinion of him if he steps in to stop the slander against another teammate?

He must not have been much of a leader before but he’ll make damn sure he’s worthy of the title now.

Guilt for his past hesitation and a fierce kind of protective solidarity lashes like fire behind his teeth; Kanji is his friend and a good person and doesn’t deserve even half of the shit that gets said about him, to him. He’d trusted Souji enough to confide in him, to come out to him, so what the hell kind of friend would Souji be if he stayed quiet now?

Souji lets the trembling, frightened version of himself fall away and in his place there comes to stand someone else: the general that the characters of his name spell him out to be, stormy-eyed and steel-boned with the breath of thunder in his lungs. He’d picked the name himself, long ago when he was still a child; time to live up to it. Time to make his lieutenant stand down.

Yosuke seems to shake himself out of his stun, his stance changing to one more grounded. His brow furrows harshly and his mouth twists into an incredulous, bewildered frown. He opens his mouth, likely to defend himself or to protest, but Souji doesn’t let him speak.

“No, you don’t get to talk right now after what you already said.” He narrows his eyes against the faint yellow at the edges of his vision, glowering at Yosuke with all the heat of everything he’s ever wished he had the courage to say.

“What does it matter?” Souji sweeps a hand over to where Kanji stands off to the side, never taking his eyes off his former partner. “What the hell does it matter what Kanji’s sexuality is? Has he ever done anything to you? To anyone?”

Yosuke gapes at him, mouth working open and closed with only choked, half-formed sounds escaping.

Souji doesn’t give him the chance to find his words. “No,” he spits, “no, he hasn’t, and before you say anything about his shadow I want you to think reeeeal hard about your own.” He tilts his chin forward, looking down the bridge of his nose at where Yosuke still gawks wordlessly up at him. Souji’s eyes narrow even further.

“A shadow is a shadow, Yosuke, it’s made of fear and repressed negativity, so unless you want to look me in the eye and tell me everything your shadow said was a hundred percent true without exception…” He trails off and levels Yosuke with a pointed look, letting the implications of his words sink in. It’s a low blow; not quite the lowest he could make but close enough, and while he doesn’t like it, it needs to be said so that Yosuke understands just how serious this is.

Yosuke looks like he’s been struck. Pain flashes across his face and he recoils as though burned. “The fuck, Souji,” he breathes, and his voice is a mixture of anger and disbelief.

(If there is just the slightest hint of pain in there, too, then Souji forces himself not to react. He doesn’t want to hurt Yosuke – after all, up until now he’s been the best friend Souji’s ever had – but he can’t let Yosuke and his homophobia keep hurting anyone else, either.)

In the seconds before Yosuke tries to speak again, Souji hears Kanji move behind him. “Senpai, it’s okay, you don’t have to—“

Souji holds up a hand, glancing over his shoulder to give his friend a short nod. “Yes. I do.”

Kanji raises his eyebrows and falls silent. Beside him Naoto still looks tense and ready to fight should the need arise. (Souji wonders just how many times they’ve had to deal with this kind of thing. He hates the thought.)

Turning back, he schools his face into the cold, carved marble mask he’s grown used to wearing in the TV world. Yosuke hunches further down as Souji fixes a grey gaze on him, center of gravity lowered in case he needs to fight or flee. Souji recognizes the action, knows he’s hit a nerve.

He finds Yosuke’s gaze with his own and holds it, unblinking. “You need to apologize.”

Yosuke finally finds his voice. With a look that could melt glaciers – though still shaky around the edges – he bites out, “Me apologize? I didn’t even fucking do anything, why the hell should I have to apologize?”

“How about for the way you’ve been speaking to Kanji for the past six months, for starters?” And Chie, he thinks, and Yukiko.

The shaky edges seem to tremble harder, nervous energy rattling Yosuke’s frame as his shoulders tense. He’s angry, yes, but there’s something else there, too, something that was also there before; a kind of desperation that has slowly begun to creep closer to panic. “You make it sound like I’ve been attacking him,” he says, and his voice is thin, crackling. “So, what? I’m supposed to feel guilty about being uncomfortable? You want me to apologize for trying to make sure nothing weird happened?”

The yellow at the boarder of his vision turns to bloody red.

“Uncomfortable?” he snarls. He feels his spine curl forward, tight and controlled and coiled like a spring, his own body finally echoing his anger and almost dropping into a low battle stance. Like a wolf prepared to charge. “Uncomfortable? And just how the fuck do you think other people feel when you go around saying shit like that?!”

Yosuke jerks backwards, thrown so off guard he nearly stumbles. The wild-eyed look is back, that desperate-panicked-barely-held-together gleam shining brightly in twin oceans of hazel.

But Souji pays no heed. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts people when you say that? You think you’re uncomfortable? You have nothing on the ones that have to listen to comments like that every day of their lives.” He pulls his lips back over his teeth, baring them, and pours every last drop of his own hurt and anxiety in to join the righteous, protective anger he feels on Kanji’s behalf. “Maybe you’re right, maybe you didn’t attack him, but that’s the kind of thing that gets people attacked!”

There are sounds behind him; his friends, the running of the river, the hammering of his heart in his ears. His throat is starting to burn from speaking so much – his body isn’t used to it anymore – and he can feel the tremors in his chest that signal the start of hyperventilation, adrenaline mixing with everything else now burning below his skin.

Everything zeros in on one point, everything else fading away as Souji stares dead-on into Yosuke’s eyes. He’s never held eye contact for this long with anyone, but he refuses to let go of it now. He throws a hand out to the side and points somewhere behind him in the general direction of where he remembers Kanji being. “Kanji,” he emphasizes, “isn’t gay, Yosuke, and even if he was, what does it matter? He’s still a friend, and a member of this team, and fuck you and your homophobia!”

There is a line somewhere, deep in his heart, one that Souji has only ever tiptoed over once or twice before in his entire life. He’d been scarred for his efforts nearly every time and so he’s kept neatly to his own side of it ever since, never daring to cross it fully lest he be left damaged beyond repair. But it’s exhausting on this side of the line, soul-rending, isolating, and after years and years and years he finally feels his resolve break.

He opens his mouth, takes a breath, and leaps across the line inside him.

“If you’re so adamant about being uncomfortable around gay men then why don’t you lay off of him and start being uncomfortable around me?!”

He stabs at the air with his raised arm, jabbing harshly with the finger he’s been pointing behind himself at his silent friends, back where the Fortune and Emperor bonds have been burning, fizzing, blinding in their intensity at the base of his skull. “Kanji’s not gay!”

(“I can’t keep it in anymore; I gotta tell somebody or I’m gonna go crazy…”

“Like, it’s too big a secret to keep by myself, ya know?”)

He pulls his arm in and points instead at himself. “I am!”

The fingers on both his hands curl into fists, clenching so tightly into his palms that he can feel the skin giving way beneath them. He digs them deeper and rides out the tsunami of adrenaline until the very end.

“I’m gay, Partner,” he repeats, spitting the nickname like it’s acid. “And I’m sorry if I don’t fit your fucking stereotypes, but maybe, just maybe, queer people are normal goddamn human beings!”

The world goes silent.

In the sudden, ringing quiet he slowly becomes aware of his breathing, the way his chest heaves like he’s been dying, drowning, and he’s somehow made it back to the surface to take his first lungful of air in years. His heart pounds against his ribs – he can feel it in his ears, his mouth, loud and insistent against the backs of his eyes. His throat aches.

Yosuke stares at him. He is frozen completely still; even his chest is motionless, like the air inside him has been turned to ice with his blood. His face is white, his lips open and trembling, and his eyes; impossibly wide, his pupils blown so that the hazel of his irises is almost totally eclipsed by inky black.

Yosuke looks at him as if he’s afraid.

Oh fuck.

Something shifts behind him. A faint, hesitant trill of gold zings its way along the Wheel of Fortune right before Naoto’s voice (at his back, much closer than he’d realized), hisses, “Senpai! Your voice!”

Oh fuck.

The breath leaves his lungs like a gunshot and Souji claps a hand over his mouth in dawning horror, tasting the coppery tang of the blood on his palm from his own fingernails. He can feel it now, the echo of his voice across the floodplain, hanging heavy in the air and in his head – the way his throat feels like he’s swallowed blistering sand. He presses his hand harder against his mouth until his lips grind against his teeth. He realizes now that he must have been shouting; that he’d lost control over his volume as he’d lost his grip on his temper, and that his vocal cords – so used to quiet, lower tones, trained for over a decade to keep the pitch he wants – have more than likely betrayed him.

He wishes he knew what he’d sounded like.

He’s unbelievably glad he doesn’t know.

Black replaces the dimming red that lines his sight, blotting along the outline like ink in water. The leftover adrenaline still dripping into his blood sparks to life again and he can feel the old, familiar fingers of panic come clutching at his spine.

What have you done?

He doesn’t look at Yosuke, still silent and fearful, doesn’t even bother to acknowledge him. He just pivots on the ball of his foot and starts to move. He breezes past Kanji and Naoto – the latter of whom, he is vaguely aware, turns almost immediately and follows after him with only a split-second glance behind.

A second, heavier set of footsteps catches up a few moments later, and he can hear the gruffness of Kanji’s voice in the way his second follower breathes.

He walks. Only on some barely conscious level does he know where he’s heading, and only then because he’d turned away from Yosuke to do so. The only way away is further down the river, so down the river is where he must be going. He lets his mind slip sideways and allows his body to stride as far and as fast away as it wants to, not even a hint of destination in mind.

  It’s a long time before he comes back into his head.

When he does, it’s to find himself seated on the side of the road – well away from the river bank – with his back bowed and his head resting between his knees, both hands wrapped around his mouth so tightly he can feel the outline of his teeth through his skin.

There is someone’s hand between his shoulder blades he realizes after a time, rubbing small circles as he unconsciously rocks a couple inches forward and then a couple inches back. Like a pendulum. Or a broken chain.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” says a voice off to his right.

The hand on his back pauses and he feels a thumb swipe along one of the knobs of his spine a few times, like the person the hand belongs to is loathe to stop entirely. Someone on his left – seated next to him, it seems – leans into the side of his vision just enough to cast a shadow in his peripherals. “Souji-senpai?” comes a different voice – higher, lighter, blue. “Are you back with us now?”

He takes in a deep breath through his nose and holds it, only releasing it when it starts to hurt. He exhales slowly through his teeth. “Yeah,” he mumbles into his knees. He has no idea if anyone can actually hear him. He doesn’t suppose it really matters. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m alright.” He gives himself a second to assess. “…I think,” he amends. Someone sighs in relief beside him.

“You had us worried, Senpai,” says the blue voice from before, the one with the hand on his back. He thinks it might be Naoto. (He’s pretty sure it’s Naoto.)

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He turns his head towards the blue voice but doesn’t actually raise it from between his knees. “I keep doing this to you.”

“Senpai, don’t… please stop apologizing.” The blue voice is sad, remorseful. He doesn’t like it. It should never have to sound that way.

He tries to shrug noncommittally, which is hard with his arms pinned down by his own thighs. “I don’t know how to do anything else,” he whispers.

He hadn’t really meant to say it, definitely didn’t mean for anyone else to hear it, but they did. He’s beginning to realize that they’re more attuned to him that he’d first wanted to allow.

Someone crouches next to him on his other side. It’s a warm presence, bigger than the other one, and it blots out the thin trail of sunlight that’s been soaking into his hair. “You didn’t have to do all’a that,” says the first voice, the one ringed in bleach-blond gold, rough and soft all at the same time. Like a hug when you weren’t expecting one.

Souji lets out a shaky laugh – a quiet huff of breath that makes his shoulders tremble. “Maybe I didn’t,” he whispers, “but I also kind of did.” He hopes his inflection gets his meaning across; he isn’t sure he could try for anything more eloquent just now.

Kanji lets out a sound that might be a disbelieving snort. “You really are somethin’ else.” He lowers himself entirely, coming out of his crouch to sit directly on the ground beside him. There is a long moment of silence, one that feels like two people making eye contact over the top of his head. Finally, Kanji murmurs, “Thanks, Senpai, that… meant a lot.”

He shakes his head. Slowly, he pulls his hands away from his mouth and lets them drop. He doesn’t sit up just yet though, perfectly content to stare at the dirt between his shoes. He’s too exhausted still for much of anything else. “You shouldn’t thank me for doing what I should have done forever ago.”

“Hey. You said you knew how hard it must’a been for me to come out to you, yeah? I get it, too.”

Souji starts to shake his head again, ready to protest that he’s the Leader, it’s his job as their commander and as their friend to stand up for them, to do the things too unsafe for them to do, to have their backs like they protect his in the TV world, but a large, gentle hand comes down on his shoulder – long and calloused fingers brushing along the sliver of his neck exposed past his collar. He shivers.

“No,” says Kanji, voice firm but kind. “Naoto’s right, you need to stop thinking everything’s your responsibility.” There is another pause, and a slight shift on both sides of him, the rustle of fabric quiet in his ears. The hand that Naoto already has on his back starts to move again.

It’s Naoto’s turn to sigh. “I think we all tend to forget just how human you are,” they murmur, and it’s still that sad, hushed tone from before – the one he hates because it hurts. “Including you, Senpai; you try to do everything, and we, like idiots, believe that you can, and that you don’t need our help, too, sometimes.”

He lets out another shivery exhale – it nearly comes out like a sob.

Kanji fidgets. “Naoto said they’ve seen you like this before.”

Souji nods.

“…Is it always like this? This bad, I mean.”

Souji sucks in a long breath. He nods again. “Usually,” he croaks.

“Well shit…”

Silently, the fingers at the base of his skull press into his skin, pushing tiny little spirals into the knot he already knows is there. No one says anything more for a few moments until, “That’s what happened at the cultural festival, isn’t it? After the pageant?”

He tenses. Oh please no, I don’t want to talk about that right now.

But Naoto comes to his rescue. “He was having a panic attack, yes.” They change their pattern and start smoothing their hand – much smaller than Kanji’s, with just as gentle of a touch – up and down the length of his back. Souji feels himself relax a little further.

There is a faint, tender thrum along the pair of bonds he shares with these two particular friends. He feels it vibrate along the line and into his own body, but also, strangely, he can feel it reverberating back outwards, too. He lets himself follow it, just to see, and it echoes across the Emperor and Wheel of Fortune towards one another as well as back to him. Well, he thinks, at least something good came out of this mess.

“How often do you get them?” Kanji asks. There is worry there, something a little guilty, and nononono, that’s not something that should be there. Souji is the only one that should shoulder the weight of worry; his friends don’t deserve something that heavy across their backs.

But the way Kanji asks is too genuine for Souji not to answer, so he swallows down his discomfort at being fretted over and says, more honestly than he’s accustomed to, “Too often.”

“Fuck.”

There is a long stretch of silence after that. It isn’t uncomfortable; in fact it’s relatively easy – no one is saying anything because nothing more really needs to be said right now. Souji finds he likes it this way.

There are birds chirping in the distance, despite the thin layer of fog that has been obscuring the horizon for several days now. The far-off sound of cars from the roads closer to town is there, too; all ambient noise, real and unobtrusive. It’s grounding, and blessedly calm. Eventually though, as is what happens to even the most serene pockets of time, the silence is broken.

“Hey… Naoto?” Kanji murmurs around Souji’s hunched form. There is a soft rustle from Souji’s left and a barely there, “hmm?” to which Kanji responds, “I’m uh. I’m bi.”

A beat. Then, “Oh. Well.... Thank you for trusting me with this information, Kanji-kun.” They go quiet again for a moment, contemplative. “I personally am not sure what my sexuality is, only that my gender is quite fluid.” There is a breathy chuckle near Souji’s left ear and he can practically hear the blush across Naoto’s nose. There is a smile in their voice when they add, “But you already knew that about me.”

Souji grins to himself where the others can’t see. This is progress – even if it’s on the back of something awful like yet another of his attacks. He’d gladly have a hundred more if it meant he could inadvertently make his friends happy.

One of the fingers still kneading gingerly at his neck taps against his vertebrae, like a half-hearted poke. “Senpai,” Kanji says, and Souji can’t help shifting a little to peek out at his friend from between his own knees. It’s the first clear view of either of them he’s had since his brain shut down at the riverbank.

Kanji is frowning at him, brow creased in concentration like he’s still figuring out what he wants to say. “You outed yourself,” he finally settles on, and there is a question hiding in the tone of his voice.

Souji sighs and uncurls his spine, sitting up at last. Several things pop back into place as he goes.

He watches the world in front of him, vision focusing on the middle distance as he gives his friend a tired, resigned shrug. “I did,” he admits. “I didn’t exactly plan to do that, but… I did.”

Naoto leans over a bit into Souji’s peripherals; he can see them watching his face as they say, “Perhaps it was for the best?”

Souji tilts his chin in their direction, listening without turning to look.

They take it for the sign to continue that it is. “What I mean to say is that, of course we support you, and maybe it’s one less burden to bear now.” They glance upwards to where Souji can only assume Kanji is. “Don’t you think?”

From the angle they’re all at, Souji can just barely make out the movement of Kanji nodding.

Naoto continues, “It might not have been ideal, but if it’s enough to get Yosuke-senpai to rethink his mentality, then maybe it was a good thing in disguise?” They sound unsure (which is something Souji is starting to see is a side-effect of Naoto being comfortable around someone,) as if they want to be helpful but aren’t convinced they’re doing it correctly. It’s still sweet – and Souji does understand what they’re trying to say.

He huffs, knowing Naoto will hear it for the (albeit humorless) laugh that it is. “Maybe,” he says, watching them through the edge of his line of sight. “I guess if I lose him as a friend over this then he wasn’t the kind of friend I needed in the first place.”

It hurts to say aloud; he desperately does not want to lose his best friend, his partner, but he’s worn out. If it comes to that then it will hurt, (he can already recognize the beginnings of another thorny ball of pain taking root inside his heart, as well as the emptiness that creeps in along with it,) but he was hurting before, too, every time something homophobic came dripping from Yosuke’s oblivious mouth. Every time his friend had made a comment or a statement that attacked Kanji, Souji had felt it, leaking in like rain against a battered roof, bringing the guilt of his own silence with it. He’s already in pain, but he’s tired of letting himself be hurt, tired of letting others like him be hurt, and, by proxy, tired of hurting himself. He doesn’t care so much about his own wounds anymore, though, as familiar as they are. They’re exhausting, yes, but the thing that had tipped him over the edge was the way his friends, his teammates, those that look to him for direction were being treated.

Souji can count the number of people that have ever stood up for him and this deeply-rooted piece of himself on one hand – he refuses to let that fleeting kindness stop at him.

He sees his kohai sharing a glance, though he can’t make out their facial expressions from where he’s sitting. He can tell there is a silent conversation happening around him, and while he’s curious, he also doesn’t want to pry. So he waits, confident that someone will speak up in a moment.

He’s right. Naoto gently clears their throat – an oddly nervous gesture – and mumbles, “I don’t think you’ll lose him completely, Senpai. Yosuke-senpai is a bit obtuse, yes, but your outburst may have been exactly what he needed to fix his own mistakes.”

Kanji appears to nod. “Y-yeah, what they said.” He glances around Souji’s shoulders towards Naoto again, more wordless dialogue taking place while Souji waits. Kanji leans back around again after a few seconds. “And, I mean, I dunno if you’ve noticed, Senpai, but Yosuke-senpai is kind of glued to you half the time, so…”

Souji ticks his gaze over as Kanji trails off; left curious once more, but not quite ready to look at anyone dead on.

“He seems to adore you,” Naoto concludes, and Souji shifts so that his attention switches back over to them as they speak. “It is my honest belief that he’ll come around eventually. It might just… take some time.”

I don’t really have time, Souji wants to say, but bites his tongue instead. November isn’t all that far away from March in the long run, and if he’s going to permanently lose the closest friendship he’s had since childhood then he’d rather be given the chance to grieve properly. If not, then any time spent in limbo is a waste. He doesn’t think he can win, either way.

It’s less draining just to relinquish his grip on hope.

Simultaneously, because despite him sitting up, neither Kanji nor Naoto has removed their grounding touch, the hands on his back slide inward, mirroring each other, and there is a moment where it feels like Souji is being hugged from either side. He stiffens, purely on instinct, for only the briefest flash of time, before leaning in to the awkward, three-person embrace and letting the rest of the tension bleed out of his bones.

He isn’t falling this time. There are hands to catch him.

“Thanks, Senpai,” Kanji murmurs, and Souji lets this one wash over him, letting go of his eternal need to shrug off words of gratitude. He’s not going to dismiss his friend’s feelings this time. “For all of that back there.” Kanji sighs. “I wish you hadn’t had to do that, though, cuz that’s a pretty shitty way to be forced outta the closet.”

Soui hums and the beginnings of a smile tug at one corner of his mouth. “No one forced me,” he says, and it’s lighter than he expected, truer. Like a stone has been lifted from his neck – only one out of several dozen, but even one less is still one less. He chuckles softly. “I think I just got tired of holding it in, too.”

There is a pause as Kanji looks at him; Souji can feel his friend’s eyes on the side of his face. And then Kanji laughs.

It’s low and calm, seeming slightly out-of-place when compared to Kanji’s usually much more intense demeanor, but somehow it fits him. A side that only appears around certain people – like Naoto and their lowered guard; like Souji and his genuine smiles. “Yeah,” Kanji agrees, “yeah, I know what you mean.”

From over on his left, Naoto squeezes their arm tighter around his ribs and lets out a quiet, wordless sound, breathy like a vocal exhalation. “It will be alright in the end, I think,” they say with a note of hopeful positivity.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Souji tentatively allows himself to believe they could be right.

 ---

           24 hours later, there is a letter.

24 hours later, and Souji is deathly cold in every way possible, standing in an interrogation room with Kanji, Teddie, and Yosuke, listening from somewhere far away as Dojima-san tries and fails to keep the desperation from his voice when he shouts an order back at Adachi.

24 hours later, and Souji feels the cracked, damaged pieces of his soul utterly and completely break.

Because it’s only 24 hours later, and Nanako has disappeared.

#fanfic #fanfiction #Persona 4 #p4 #souji seta #yu narukami #souyo #yosuke hanamura #Kanji Tatsumi #naoto shirogane #investigation team #transgender #trans male character #trans souji seta #trans!au #scars on my sleeve #caught in the grey #tw homophobia #tw past abuse