Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Sakura-kun, you’re not changing?”

Sakura looks up at Suou from the loose thread he’s been tugging on the leg of his pants. He should really leave it, since he can’t afford to replace his uniform, but it gives him something to look at whilst his classmates get changed.

“I forgot my gym clothes,” Sakura lies, trying not to look too shifty. By the way Suou’s eye narrows, he doesn’t think he’s gotten away with it.

“Hm? Sakura-san, you don’t have anything to wear?” Nirei pipes up, peering around Suou’s shoulder. “I might have a spare shirt in my locker.”

“I’ve got spare shorts if ya need ‘em!” Tsugeura hollers from across the changing room, and all too soon there’s a flurry of action as the students of Class 1-1 collectively offer a full set of gym wear. Sakura should be proud of how organised they all are, but he wilts under the show of  kindness, feeling himself turn red to the hairline.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, reaching out to take the cobbled-together kit.

Considering sparring is a part of their daily roster, Sakura doesn’t know why they even have gym class. To him, it’s a weekly challenge to dodge undressing in front of an audience. Sakura waits until the others have shuffled out of the changing room, but Suou and Nirei hang by the door.

“Aren’t you changing?” Nirei asks innocently. The shade of concern creeping into his face has Sakura feeling warm all over. He glances down at the clothes he’s holding to avoid looking at it.

“Nirei-kun, how about we give Sakura-kun some privacy?” Suou suggests menially. Sakura’s head snaps up to catch the knowing smile Suou shoots him. For someone so perceptive, it strikes Sakura just how discreet Suou can be - he’s certainly managed to avoid revealing anything about himself.

Nirei nods fervently, unaware of the guidance. “Of course! See you in there, Sakura-san.”

And then they’re gone, leaving Sakura alone in the heavily graffitied changing room. He waits another minute, just to make sure no one else is coming in before he starts taking off his shirt.

╰──────┄ °❀ ❀° ┄──────╮

It’s not that Sakura doesn’t like his appearance.

It’s… fine. He looks fine.

The white hair and strange yellow of his mismatched eye are unique, and something he might really appreciate on another person. But it’s everyone else who’s always had a problem with his appearance, so even though Sakura doesn’t dislike it, he dislikes the trouble it brings him.

Coming to Makochi has given him a welcome reprieve from that prejudice - he doesn’t think the memory of Kotoha marvelling at his eye and comparing it to a marble with wonder in her voice will ever leave him - but it means Sakura now has other aspects of his appearance to be self-conscious about. Things that he knows are inarguably ugly.

The skin beneath his shirt chafes uncomfortably in some places, sensitive from bad healing. Other places he can barely feel at all, the nerves damaged without the money for proper medical care. Sakura would buy treatment oil if he could afford it. For now, the best he can do is keep his body firmly covered to avoid freaking everyone out.

He’s not sure he could take his friends looking at him with the same disgust and fear he’s been shown since he was young.

╰──────┄ °❀ ❀° ┄──────╮

Despite what anyone thinks, Kaji actually likes Sakura.

It’s true that sometimes they clash; their personalities are too similar to avoid it. But when Kaji looks at Sakura, he recognises the fear in him. That insecurity he’s intimately familiar with. At least Kaji has had the luxury of hiding the parts he dislikes about himself inside (until they inevitably burst out). He can’t imagine bearing those parts of himself on the outside, naked for all to ridicule. Which he can only speculate is what’s happened to Sakura, judging by the way he flinches and bares his teeth anytime someone even vaguely references his mismatched features.

The white hair and golden iris are unorthodox, sure, but Kaji likes those, too. The longer he looks at the contrast between the two, the more appealing it gets. Kaji wouldn’t mind running his fingers through the part, just to watch the monochrome strands wind together.

He’s out on patrol with Sakura again today. Hiiragi keeps pairing them together, citing that it’ll be good experience for Sakura to learn from an older Grade Captain. As if Sakura needs it; since the whole KEEL incident, the first year seems to have progressed to an entirely new level. He’s more aware of himself and those around him, even in the midst of a fight. He relies on his friends. If anything, he could learn to rely on them a little more; it’s obvious that Sakura has to consciously remind himself to trust people. The reflex to do everything himself still lingers, but that’s normal. No one is expecting Sakura to drop years of survival tactics overnight.

”Did you want something?” 

The question knocks Kaji out of his musings, and he zones back in to see Sakura squinting at him, a faint blush high on his cheeks. 

“You were staring at me. Have I got something on my face or what?”

He’s trying to look fierce but it only looks like he’s pouting. How adorable. Kaji keeps on walking, ignoring Sakura’s strangled shout of “Hey!” behind him. 

“Quit yelling in the street,” Kaji tells him once Sakura has caught up to his side. “Since you’re so energetic, why don’t we stop in on old man Yamada? He’s always trying to lift heavy stuff by himself.”

”Isn’t he like, seventy?”

“Seventy two.”

”Is he crazy?” Sakura’s scowl turns troubled. “That’s dangerous, he could get hurt.”

If Kaji was a less awkward senpai, he’d put his hand on Sakura’s head. He’s too good of a person, worrying about an old man he barely knows like this. Kaji keeps his hands in his pockets.

It doesn’t take them long to make it to Yamada’s place. And just as Kaji predicted, the old coot is being reckless again. As they round the corner, they spot Yamada wobbling backwards, one too many produce boxes stacked in his arms. Before Kaji can even react, Sakura darts forward, looping his arm around the senior’s shoulders to steady him, reaching up to support the unbalanced tower of crates with his other hand. He manages to catch Yamada-ojii-san from falling, but not before a bottle of soda topples from the tallest box and lands squarely on Sakura’s head. It explodes on impact, soaking his uniform.

”Ah, Sakura-san!” Yamada cries, craning his head around to look at the drenched teenager.

Kaji sprints forward then to scoop the crates out of Yamada’s arms. “Oi, old man! What did we tell you about carrying all this heavy stuff on your own? At least ask the shop assistant for help if you’re not gonna ask the Bofurin guys.”

”Sorry, sorry!” Yamada scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s my fault. I’m still not willing to admit I’m so old I can’t carry these things on my own, haha!”

”Ojii-san!” The grocery store assistant comes darting out the back of the shop right on cue. Kaji doesn’t know her name, but based on the facial similarities, he’d guess that she’s Yamada’s granddaughter. She blinks at Sakura covered in sticky brown soda and Kaji holding the crates, and quickly deduces the situation. Turning a frown on Yamada, she says, “Ojii-san! You said you’d tell me when you needed help out back! You’re lucky Bofurin was here to stop you from breaking a hip or something.”

”Is that anyway to talk to your grandfather?” Yamada sputters, sounding faintly amused.

The girl wags a finger at him. “When you start acting like a proper senior, that’s when I’ll treat you like one. What do you think we’d do if you got hurt, huh?”

Next to him, Sakura fidgets uncomfortably at the open display of affection, looking away red-faced. It catches the girl’s attention, and her eyes widen as she takes in his sorry, soda-drenched state.

”Apologies for all the trouble ojii-san here has caused! Please allow me to get you a towel to clean up with.”

Sakura tenses when she bows to him before darting back inside the store.

Yamada sighs good-naturedly. “Ah, my disrespectful granddaughter.” Turning back to them, he continues, “Thank you for the help, boys. I know Kaori-chan would be terribly upset if my foolishness led to an injury.”

Kaji deposits the crates safely against the back door of the shop. “Just try not to do it again. I don’t wanna hear from your granddaughter that you’ve broken a hip.”

”My my, what a cheeky young man you are.”

”Nothing short of what you deserve,” Kaori teases as she reemerges from the back door. She hands Sakura a damp towel and he takes it gingerly, like she might snatch it away again. “I’m sorry about your uniform. I’d be happy to wash it for you, if you want?”

Sakura pauses in wiping down his face to stare at her, cheeks turning a violent pink once more. “That’s— I can take care of it myself!”

”It won’t take more than half an hour!” Kaori promises. “We’ve got a gas washer just upstairs.”

”I—“

Kaji grabs the back of Sakura’s Furin jacket, tugging it half off him in the process. He can already feel the sugar drying stiff and sticky in the fabric. It’s highly unlikely Sakura owns a second one, if the only lunch he brings to school is konbini onigiri. 

“Just let her wash it. We’re pretty much done for patrol today, anyway.”

Sakura shrugs out of his jacket with a grumble, letting Kaji toss it to Kaori, but he freezes when he sees Kaji’s hand still out stretched.

”Your shirt, too,” Kaji instructs, looking pointedly at the brown stains soaking through the collar of Sakura’s white T-shirt.

Sakura glances down, visibly blanching. “… Just the jacket is fine.”

”Huh? Are you stupid? If you put your jacket back on over that, it’s just gonna get dirty again.”

Sakura yelps when Kaji makes a swipe for his hem. ”I’m not taking my shirt off!”

Kaji frowns at him. “Are you shy or something?”

He’s not sure when it started, but Kaji has slowly learned the difference between when Sakura is being bashful and when there’s something wrong. Just from the way his kouhai’s fingers twist into the fabric of his T-shirt and the way he grits his teeth whilst avoiding eye contact, Kaji can tell he’s stumbled into the latter.

He sighs, stepping back to start shrugging off his own jacket. “Fine then.”

Sakura twitches, reanimating with a blush. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Kaji yanks his hoodie over his head and chucks it at Sakura. “You can go change behind the delivery truck there,” he says, jerking his chin towards the vehicle beside them.

Sakura catches the hoodie with both hands, blinking between the garment and Kaji several times before finally skulking away behind the K-truck to change.

”How cute,” Yamada chuckles to himself, even as Kaori hisses admonishingly for him not to tease.

Sakura emerges a minute later, tucked safely in Kaji’s hoodie and clutching the soiled shirt in front of him. Kaori whisks it out of his hands and disappears to clean the clothes, dragging Yamada behind her. It leaves Kaji and Sakura alone behind the store with little to do but wait, perched side by side on a couple of stacked milk crates.

It’s worse than Kaji thought; Sakura doesn’t seem able to meet his eyes, as if he’s committed some terrible indiscretion by getting soda all over him in the first place. Kaji should probably say something reassuring to him, but he’s too occupied with how Sakura looks wearing his hoodie. He didn’t anticipate this when he’d offered the garment in the first place; the hoodie is a little long on Sakura, slipping past his wrists in a way that approaches sweater paws . It makes him look smaller, somehow. 

Kaji thinks about moving closer, pressing their shoulders together and getting Sakura to lean against him. He’d try it if he thought Sakura could process it, but the first year seems to have already maxed out his daily quota for affection. There’s every possibility that he’ll straight up bolt if Kaji extends any sort of camaraderie.

Instead, he gently kicks Sakura’s ankle to get his attention. “Yo, what sort of music do you like?”

”Huh?” Sakura raises a brow at him. “Oh. I dunno, I’ve never really listened to much music.”

”Seriously? How is that possible?”

Sakura just shrugs. That says more than it should, really. Kaji’s hoodie slips a little down his back with the gesture, revealing a pale line stretching towards his nape. When he spies Kaji looking, Sakura tugs the hood back into place, fingers bunching in the fabric. Whatever, Kaji thinks, everyone has a scar or two from fighting.

“Okay. Tell me what you do and don’t like.”

”Out of what?” Sakura queries.

Kaji disconnects his wireless headphones and pulls up a random song to play on his phone. It blares between them for a few minutes, finally concluding in a long drawn out chord.

Sakura’s brow is furrowed with intense concentration. “It’s… Fine, I guess.”

”We’ll try something else, then.” Kaji pulls up another song, less metal, more rock this time, and plays it through. He glances at Sakura when it finishes. “Better or worse?”

Sakura appears to think about it very seriously for a moment. Eventually he says, “Better than the last one.”

Kaji absorbs this with a nod, then swipes to another song. They continue like this until Kaori comes out again, carrying Sakura’s cleaned and dried uniform. Sakura accepts it from her red as a beet, but he glances down at the hoodie he’s wearing with a pinch in the corner of his mouth.

”Keep it for now,” Kaji tells him. “So you don’t have to bother changing again. You can return it whenever.”

”I’ll wash it,” Sakura promises, shining with determination. He really is a sweet guy, even if he hides behind all that yelling.

“It’s whatever,” Kaji says, starting off home. He knows he walks the same way as Sakura, but his kouhai is resolutely quiet for the rest of the trip. Kaji doesn’t push it. The fact that Sakura had accepted the hoodie in the first place is enough progress for him. Umemiya-san will probably make a bigger deal out of it than it is, so Kaji resolves not to mention it. He can selfishly keep this part of Sakura to himself. At least for a bit.

Chapter Text

Generally, Suou likes to observe for a while before taking action. And in his years of training, he’s learned that not all observations are actionable; Tsugeura keeping protein powder in his desk doesn’t warrant discussion. Takanashi meeting with Enomoto from Class 2-1 after school for extra training and to gush about otome games doesn’t need to be shared. The way second grade captain Kaji Ren stares after Sakura with his expression encroaching dangerously towards fondness is a seed Suou will silently watch grow into something blossoming and beautiful.

“Hey, Suou-san. Have you noticed that Sakura-san never takes his shirt off?”

Of course, if someone else decides to take action, then the most Suou can do is try to guide the situation to a good outcome for everyone.

”Not that he has to!” Nirei adds quickly, holding up both hands defensively. “I was just thinking about it. He never changes clothes in front of people. Like that time he got paint on himself last week when we were clearing up the graffiti behind the bakery. Or that time in class everyone was switching jackets to test who had the biggest shoulders.”

”As I recall, Tsugeura-kun won that contest,” Suou comments agreeably.

It’s true that he’s witnessed Sakura wriggle out of having to take off his shirt in an increasingly creative number of ways. Suou initially assumed it was because the grade captain was embarrassed, as easily prone to blushing as he is, but it quickly became obvious that there was more to it than that.

”Eh? What are we talking about?” Tsugeura pipes up from behind them at the mention of his name.

”Ah, Tsugeura-san! We were just discussing how Sakura-san never takes off his shirt.” Nirei’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Tsugeura. Internally, Suou sighs; the two of them tend to feed off each other’s enthusiasm. Whatever discretion Sakura thought he was exercising is about to be torn through like a paper screen.

Tsugeura cocks his head. “Huh. Now that you mention it, he seems to forget his gym kit a lot, too.” He turns around, searching for another person to rope into the discussion, and his eyes land on Kiryuu. “You’ve noticed it too, right Kiryuu-san?”
Kiryuu barely glances up from the game he’s playing on his phone. “Hm? Maybe he’s shy?”
Tsugeura’s grin widens, like a wind up toy starting again. “He could be hiding some impressive muscles under that shirt! There’s nothing to be shy about if that’s the case, he should display his body proudly!”

Takanashii interjects from the back of the room, “What if he has a third nipple?”

He’s followed up by a chorus of colourful suggestions, stretching from “birth mark” to “corset piercings”.

Kiryuu hums. “Perhaps he has a tattoo of a dragon across his entire back and Sakura-chan doesn’t want people to think he’s yakuza. ”

Beside Suou, Nirei’s shoulders hike up to his ears. “Do you ummm-- Know a lot about tattoos, Kiryuu-san?”
Kiryuu shoots Nirei a wicked look, smile curving out from behind his phone. Nirei makes a rather undignified squeak that Suou can’t help but chuckle at.

“Goodness, you all seem rather eager to see Sakura-kun shirtless,” he teases. 

Nirei rounds on him then. “Suou-san, what do you think? It’s definitely shady behaviour, right?”

Suou stifles another sigh, pushing himself up from his seat. “I think there’s a rather simple way to find out what Sakura-kun is hiding.” He waits until even Sugishita has lifted his head from the desk to listen to his next words. “We can ask him.”

It’s a little gratifying to witness half the class tense up at the simple suggestion. Nirei speaks first, “Uh-- Suou-san, isn’t asking something like that a bit…”

“Hm? Didn’t you want to know?”

“W-well, yes! But Sakura-san might not be up for it.”

“I might not be up for what?” Every head in the classroom whips around to see the boy in question planted in the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets as he scowls at his peers. “If it’s a fight, you can count me in.”

“Sakura-kun!” Suou calls genially as the grade captain makes his way over to them. He doesn’t miss how the rest of the class eyes him curiously, even if Sakura seems not to notice. “We were just discussing how Tsugeura-kun has the biggest shoulders in the class.”

Out of the corner of Suou’s eye, Nirei shoots him a nervous look. Sakura frowns at them. “Hah? Didn’t we already know that? You guys did that weird changing jackets thing last week.”

Kiryuu finally puts his phone down with a hum, hiking one knee up onto his desk so he can rest his jaw against his palm. “I’m sad Sakura-san didn’t join us. Don’t you want to know who has bigger shoulders than you?”

“What does that matter? Even if a guy is bigger than me, I’ll still beat him in a fight.”

Suou shakes his head a little; Sakura seems as dense as ever.

Nirei fidgets, wringing his fingers together before he says, “Actually, Sakura-san, we were discussi-”

“Why do you never take your shirt off?” Tsugeura loudly cuts Nirei off. When Suou glances at him, Tsugeura’s cheeks are pink, like he couldn’t hold the question in any more. 

“Ah-” Sakura’s mouth clamps tightly shut and he looks away. By his sides, his hands ball up into fists; something he does when he feels vulnerable, Suou has noticed. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Oho? Maybe it is a full-body dragon tattoo,” Kiryuu teases.

It’s faintly amusing how Sakura baulks at the insinuation. “Wha- I don’t have any tattoos! Where would I even get the money for that…?” He trails off quietly, almost like an afterthought, and the memory of his apartment, derelict and bare, flashes behind Suou’s eye.

Tsugeura appears suddenly, hooking Sakura into a headlock. “Don’t be shy, Sakura-san! We’re all men here! I’m sure you have a great body under your clothes.”

Sakura looks like a feral cat with how he squirms, clawing at Tsugeura’s beefy bicep until he can wriggle out of the hold. “What the hell are you talking about?! I don’t care about that stuff.”

“Sakura-san,” Nirei interjects, holding up his hands placatingly as Sakura looks ready to take a bite out of a laughing Tsugeura. “You don’t have to tell us anything, we didn’t mean to speculate. I was just curious because I noticed it a few times.”

“You… noticed?” Sakura visibly deflates. He awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck before sliding his jacket off. “Okay, then.”

“Sakura-san!” Nirei makes an aborted motion forward, like he wants to stop Sakura but thinks better of it. “It’s okay, really!”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Sakura says gruffly, tossing his jacket onto a nearby desk. He walks to the front of the class. “If you’re already paying attention to stuff like that, you’ll probably see eventually. It’s better if I show you, just…” Sakura’s mouth pinches. His expression flickers before he covers it with a hard glare towards the classroom at large. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” 

Every person in the class swivels in his direction, no longer pretending to hide their intrigue. Even Sugishita lifts his head from the desk to glare groggily at their grade captain.

Sakura audibly takes a breath but he can’t quite hide the faint tremble of his fingers as he seizes the collar of his shirt and drags it up over his head, keeping his arms looped in the sleeves. The class goes utterly silent. Next to Suou, Nirei sucks in a gasp.

To say it’s carnage would be generous.

There doesn’t seem to be a single patch of skin on Sakura’s back that’s undamaged. The base of his spine is rough and spattered with pale streaks like you see when scabs have been knocked off early. Stretch marks score up his waist as if he’s been dragged . Scars litter themselves across every inch of him, some long and misshapen, some short and clean, almost surgical in how straight they are. Others look like punctures - Keloids, Suou realises. There are patches that are dark and mottled in texture: burns, where the skin has bubbled and healed badly. A few look like they might have been infected before the surface recovered. It’s a veritable patchwork of trauma that scales his entire back.

But nothing is quite as bad as the marks lying high up on Sakura’s left shoulder. Nirei audibly whimpers when he sees it, slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes fill with tears. Suou feels something hideous and violent erupt inside him at the sight. 

Two characters have been carved into Sakura’s skin.

「　奇形　」

FREAK.

The lines are jagged and red. Suou can imagine why. Can imagine Sakura thrashing in pain as he’s held down and cut into uncaringly, maliciously, like a slab of meat. It takes all of Suou’s willpower to breathe out evenly and to not kick the nearest desk through the wall. He’s never felt fury like this.

“I know it’s ugly to look at,” Sakura breaks the silence, doing a marvellous job of sounding put out. His voice only shakes on the last word. “I’ll cover up if it makes you guys uncomfortable.”

A pair of chair legs screech against the floor and the whole class looks over to see Sugishita pushing up from his desk, teeth gritted, eyes blazing. He’s clenching his fists so hard that they’re shaking.

“What?” Sakura snaps immediately, clutching the shirt still worn on his arms. “You got a problem?!”

Sugishita’s lips peel back to reveal his teeth. In a flash, he kicks his chair across the room, in the opposite direction to Sakura. Even so, the grade captain raises his fists ready to fight. Faced forward, his chest is visible, and a pit forms in Suou’s gut when he sees that the scarring continues around Sakura’s entire torso. Sugishita storms right past Sakura and out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him. Suou can’t help but feel envious; if he had less restraint, none of the chairs would be upright. 

“Sakura-san,” Nirei chokes around a sob. “Who did this to you?”

Sakura blinks, shaking out of his stupor at Sugishita’s swift exit and turns away from the class with a shrug.

“People,” he mumbles.

The single word says more about his past than he’s ever told them. People did this to him. It doesn’t matter who specifically. It’s people. It’s anyone who came before Sakura arrived in Makochi.

And Sakura - strong, lonely, indomitable Sakura - despite everything he’d endured, had still trusted that people could be good. Suou clasps his hands tightly behind his back to ward off the sting rising behind his eyes.

“Sakura-kun,” he calls, stepping forward. Sakura’s eyes snap to his, wary as a cornered animal. With Sakura standing at the front of the room, having the rest of the class behind him has inadvertently divided them into two camps. Suou carefully steps up to his side and then slightly past him. He hopes it sends a clear message; Suou is putting himself in Sakura’s corner. So he doesn’t have to face the rest of the class, or anyone else for that matter, alone. Not anymore.

“Thank you for showing us,” Suou tells him honestly, and is rewarded with the blush that creeps up Sakura’s face. He’s glad; Suou suspects Sakura would not have responded well to sympathy with such a large audience.

Nirei startles into action then. With a cry of “Sakura-saaaann!”, he dives forward and wraps his arms around Sakura’s waist.

“Oi!” Sakura’s blush deepens to an alarming shade of crimson, and he swats at Nirei’s head. “Let me get my clothes on before you grab me! Pervert! Shameless!” 

Nirei squeezes tighter, burying his face into Sakura’s shoulder with a muffled wail. The grade captain relents smacking his head with a huff. “I don’t care if you guys know just… Don’t go spreading my business around or anything. If you do, I’ll beat you up.”

“You have my oath as a brother!” Tsugeura swears. He appears to be on the edge of loud, theatrical tears, fists clasped tightly to his chest like a maiden. Half the class is in a similar state, in fact. “I won’t say a word about the battles you’ve endured!”

“The battles I-- What are you even saying?!”

“We won’t say a word, Sakura-kun,” Suou assures him. He gently tries to pry Nirei off their grade captain as he continues, “But I suspect Sugishita-kun may have already gone to see Umemiya-kun.”

“He-- That gorilla!” Sakura struggles as Nirei’s hold turns from affectionate to restraining. “He better not! Let go of me!”

“Don’t worry, Sakura-chan. Umemiya-san will keep your secret,” Kiryuu calls, sunny as a windchime before his face suddenly turns dark. “And we’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”

Suou smiles at him; it’s always nice to see Kiryuu’s righteousness come out every now and again.

If possible, Sakura’s face gets even redder. He hurriedly tugs his shirt back over his torso and then turns all his ire onto Kiryuu. “Like I asked for that!”

“Aw, you don’t need to ask! Your friends are happy to help!”

At that, a few jeers from the rest of the class rise up, led by Kakiuchi and Kurita, and then Sakura is getting bundled into a fresh wave of noogies and ribbing and laughter.

Nirei hangs back from the tussle, sliding back over to Suou’s side.

“What do you think, Suou-san?”

Suou hums. There’s an awful lot he’s thinking right now; what he’d do to these ‘people’ Sakura mentioned, how a blade might look carving open their skin instead, how happy Sakura looks even as he snaps his jaws at his peers’ open affection, face red as a tomato.

But what Suou says is, “I wonder if Kaji-kun knows.”

Chapter Text

The scars are still ugly, but Sakura doesn’t really care anymore.

The scars are still ugly, but it doesn’t really matter anymore, either.

The scars are still ugly, and they’ll remain that way for the rest of his life, but Sakura no longer thinks of them as something to hide. 

Not that he’s walking around topless since Class 1-1 accepted him, mind you. But he no longer keeps his jacket on when it’s hot outside, wary of people seeing down the back of his shirt. He might still hesitate to lift his shirt to wipe sweat from his face, but he’ll do it now. Tsugeura clapped him on the shoulder last week and congratulated him on no longer forgetting his gym kit. Sakura can’t tell if he was joking or if he genuinely bought all those times Sakura had lied about not having a change of clothes when they sat tucked away in his locker.

Today’s patrol leads them to finding a rowdy group of taggers graffitiing the back of the bakery, and when they resist the suggestion to move on, it devolves into fists flying. The guys are weak so Sakura doesn’t go all out. He’s raising his fist to finish off one of the taggers when the guy grabs the can of spray paint lying on the ground beside him. Sakura reels back, but he’s not fast enough to avoid a misting of paint directly into his eyes.

The guy flails a kick into his ankles, causing Sakura to trip backwards. He twists fast, managing to catch himself on his palms just before he gets a mouthful of tarmac.

Bent as he is, Sakura swings his leg back in an arc, catching the guy in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

“Fuck,” he growls, blinking rapidly. The paint stings.

“Sakura-san!” Nirei is by his side in a second, gently taking Sakura’s wrists in his hands. Through the blinking, Sakura can see that his palms have been skinned. It looks nasty, grit and dirt studded into the mess of blood, but it’s nothing that won’t heal quickly. Hand wounds always look worse than they are.

“We need to clean these, but they won’t scar,” Nirei surmises after inspecting the torn skin. 

Sakura shrugs, pulling softly out of his hold. “Doesn’t matter if they do.”

Nirei’s shoulders creep towards his ears, but he holds Sakura’s watering gaze as he says, “It does to me.”

“I’m more concerned about your vision, Sakura-kun,” Suou says, appearing beside Nirei. “Wouldn’t want to lose an eye, would you?”

“What, so I’d look like you?”

“How cute. We could match!”

Sakura scowls and then hisses when it makes the thin layer of paint shift directly onto his pupil. A warm arm slides behind his back. For a second, Sakura freezes, thinking about the tapestry of scars beneath his clothes, just a few layers away from the touch. But then he relaxes, recognising Suou’s faint tea-tinted scent.

“I’ll walk you back to the school. You can wash your eyes there.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sakura replies automatically. “There’s still stuff to do.”

“We’re pretty much done for the day, actually,” Nirei interjects. “All that’s left is the report, and I can do that. It was a quiet afternoon.”

There’s little point arguing in the face of both his vice-captains, so Sakura lets himself be guided back to Furin High. Suou’s arm remains a warm weight against his torn up back, Nirei a pleasant chatter in his ears.

╰──────┄ °❀ ❀° ┄──────╮

“Sakura-kun, you can use this to dry your face.”

Sakura turns from the sink to take the towel Suou hands him. It’s soft and fluffy. Sakura wonders where the hell he got it, or if he just carries them around for moments like this. What a weird guy.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, patting away the wetness from his face. Some of the water has gotten in his hair when rinsing his eyes, so he scrubs at that too. Another few droplets have made their way down his shirt, but there’s not much he can do about that. Suo wordlessly takes the towel when he’s done.

“Here’s your jacket,” Nirei says, holding Sakura’s Bofurin uniform out to him. 

Sakura takes it and puts it back on. His vision is more or less back to normal but his eyes still sting a bit, and he can see in the mirror that they’re tinged red at the edges.

“Since we’re all here, why don’t we swing by the classroom for the report?” Suou suggests.

Sakura doesn’t really do the patrol reports; his reading and writing isn’t… It’s not the strongest since he bounced between schools when he was younger. Usually Nirei and Suou write them up together and he just recounts stuff from the patrol. It doesn’t feel like he’s contributing anything significant, but he’d feel worse if he wasn’t there. Like he’s offloading all the boring paperwork onto his vice-captains.

“Sure,” Sakura agrees, and follows Suou and Nirei out of the bathroom. 

There’s someone waiting for them outside the classroom when they arrive. Sakura blinks a few times through the lingering blurriness until Kaji’s face comes into focus.

“Hey,” he grunts as they approach.

“Good evening Kaji-san,” Suou chimes, shit-eating as ever. 

Nirei still looks a little starstruck whenever he encounters any of the upperclassmen, but he manages to get out a squeaky, “Hi, Kaji-san. Were you here to see Sakura?”

“Huh?” Sakura cocks his head, confused. As far as he’s aware, he doesn’t have another patrol with Kaji this week, and Nirei would have told him about any meetings or stuff like that.

Kaji just nods, eyes stuck on Sakura alone.

“Sakura-kun,” Suou calls. “Take your time. We’ll go on ahead, so come meet us when you’re done.”

He doesn’t even wait for a response before steering Nirei by the shoulders into the classroom and sliding the door shut behind him with a click, leaving Sakura alone in the hallway with Kaji.

“What’s up?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.

Sliding a hand into his hoodie, Kaji tugs out a small, shiny red device nestled in a handful of twisted cables. Seemingly apropos of nothing, he hands it to Sakura.

“What’s this?”

“Sorry it’s kind of old,” Kaji says, lowering his headphones. “It’s an iPod nano. I had one as a kid.”

“A what?” Sakura holds the device up, inspecting it closer. There’s a small screen above a white wheel on one side of the device. 

“It’s an mp3 player. I’m surprised it still works, actually, but I thought it’d be easier to get music to you this way than through your phone.”

“It’s got music on it?” Sakura’s so surprised, he nearly drops the tiny thing. It feels ridiculously delicate in his scabbed fists.

“Yeah, a whole bunch,” Kaji says with a shrug. “Try to find something you like. Tell me the band name after and I’ll get you more.”

It’s an effort to not sprint into the classroom immediately, even as Sakura feels his whole face get hot. He can hardly look at Kaji as he mumbles, “You don’t have to do stuff like that for me, y’know.”

“I wanted to.”

The admission has Sakura looking up. Kaji is staring at him with-- Well… Sakura doesn’t know what the hell that look is. He looks sort of… soft? The harsh scowl that typically pinches his brows has smoothed out a bit, and the downward slant of his mouth looks less deep. As Sakura takes it in, Kaji unwraps a lollipop and places it in his mouth. Sakura can’t help the way his eyes track the motion, tracing over the way his lips curve around the candy.

When he sees a flash of tongue, Sakura realises he’s staring and how fucking weird that is. He inhales to say something — anything — and Kaji abruptly takes the opportunity to shove the lollipop into Sakura’s mouth.

“Feel free to hold onto the iPod,” Kaji tells him, turning around to walk away. “There’s a charger there in case you need it.”

“Wh- You — HEY! That was in your mouth! ” 

But Kaji has already put his headphones back on with a blithe wave over his shoulder, completely oblivious to the tempest swirling in Sakura’s stomach.

When he enters the classroom, mp3 player in hand, lollipop in mouth, Suou gives him a knowing smirk.

“Everything went well, I hope?”

“Yeah…”

Nirei takes that moment to look up from his desk. “Is that one of Kaji-san’s suckers?”

Sakura bites clean through the lollipop.

╰──────┄ °❀ ❀° ┄──────╮

Having the iPod is actually really nice, Sakura discovers. Nirei had taken the time to teach him how to use it, stating he’d had his dad’s old one when he was in middle school. Sakura likes the way the album pictures are small and pixelated and the clicking sound when scrolling on the wheel. The tactile feedback is a welcome change to the quick fire, sticker-studded group chats Furin has him in.

Kaji has put a surprisingly wide range of music on the device -- everything ranging from his usual death metal through to 50s jazz-style songs that sound tinny and crackly, like they’d be better on a vinyl than a digital device. 

After the patrol report was done but the embarrassment still hadn’t left Sakura’s body, he’d sent Kaji a text.

> Thanks for the iPod. I didn’t ask for the sucker though, so fight me for that move you pulled.

Infuriatingly, Kaji just sends him a thumbs up reaction to the message that has Sakura chucking his phone across the apartment. He digs the iPod out of his pocket five minutes later.

That night Sakura listens to it, he doesn’t sleep, too busy listening to all the different ways the instruments and vocalists interact with each other, trying to take note of the way each song makes him feel. Being so old, the iPod is as dead as Sakura feels by morning time, so he brings it to school to covertly charge in one corner during class. 

“We have matsuri coming up in a few weeks,” Nirei informs them when class is over. “Hiiragi said we’ll be sorting out patrol teams carefully so that everyone gets a chance to enjoy the attractions a bit.”

“I hope they have music performers in the evenings,” Suou muses. He fixes one shining eye on Sakura. “Have you found any music you like, Sakura-kun?”

Sakura pointedly does NOT look at the iPod hanging limply from the plug socket behind him. He shoots Suou a warning glare instead, only to be met with the typical shit-eating smile his vice likes so much. The second Suou isn’t looking, Sakura grabs the mp3 player and stuffs it inside his pocket.

“I wonder if we’ll be allowed to wear yukata,” Nirei ponders, tapping his pen to his lower lip. “Considering we’ll be there representing Furin. I should ask Hiiragi-senpai.” He turns his attention to Sakura. “D’you think you would wear a yukata if we’re allowed, Sakura-san?”

“Eh? That seems like a pain to fight in,” Sakura replies. He turns his gaze out the window and hopes that’s the end of the matter. He doesn’t really want to have to explain to Nirei that he’s never had enough money to rent a yukata, let alone buy one.

“Oe-san would lend you one if you don’t have one, Sakura-kun,” Suou says, as if reading Sakura’s mind. “She’s always trying to dress you up.”

Sakura chews the inside of his cheek, ignoring how he can feel his ears heating. Admittedly, Oe-san, the old seamstress who owns the kimono store in the town centre, can be a little zealous about traditional clothing; Sakura still feels the phantom twinge of her knobbly knuckles digging in to check his waist size. But he knows that the strong aversion he feels to trying on her suggestions stems from being self-conscious about his scars. 

It’s easier now that Class 1-1 has seen them; no one recoiled in disgust, not a single insult was thrown at him. Hell, no one’s even mentioned the scars since that day, and Sakura has been wearing his jacket less and less in the growing heat. Feels less twitchy about stripping off for gym class.

Deep down, Sakura knows that Oe-san wouldn’t say a word about them either. And it might be nice to try a yukata on, even if he doesn’t end up wearing it to matsuri. He’s never worn one before, after all. Not even as a kid.

He’s saved from having to answer by the classroom door peeling back loudly, and Sakura looks up to see Kaji looming in the doorway, looking directly at him. Immediately, the memory of Kaji pushing his lollipop between Sakura’s lips resurfaces, and Sakura clenches his jaw as he feels his cheeks flush.

Kaji pulls his phone out of his hoodie and waves it screen-forward. His chat log with Sakura is briefly visible on the screen.

“You wanted to fight,” Kaji explains, apparently oblivious to the classroom full of onlookers. “The gym’s free now.”

Despite their audience, Sakura breaks out into a dangerous grin. “Oh yeah? You better not hold back then.”

Kaji scoffs. Turning to leave, he finally notices their captive audience and his face twists into his usual feral snarl. “ No spectators!”

Several squeaks resound through the students, but Sakura is already out of his seat ready to follow Kaji out of the classroom, ignoring the cheery little, “Have fun!” that Suou calls after them. He owes Kaji a fight, and a hell of a lot of payback for the tight, squirming feeling in his stomach.

╰──────┄ °❀ ❀° ┄──────╮

The gym is empty when they arrive. Sakura is quietly grateful for the privacy; if he’s going to work out some— whatever tension this is, he’d like to do it privately.

Kaji tugs off his jacket first, and then his hoodie, putting them both to the side. He reverently places the headphones on top with great care. Sakura’s eyes slide along the strip of exposed abdomen that flashes with the movement before tearing his gaze away, feeling warm to the roots of his hair.

“This place is cooking,” Kaji comments, squinting up at the sunlight spilling in through the high windows. Without proper ventilation, the gym has turned into a bit of an oven. 

Sakura can already feel sweat forming at the base of his neck, and he strips his jacket off, too.

“Hope you’re ready-- Oi! ” Sakura curses as Kaji lunges at him, fist swinging fast towards his chin. Twisting, Sakura barely manages to dodge before skipping back to put some distance between them. “That’s a dirty trick.”

Kaji smirks at him. “Gotta stay on your toes.”

“We’ll see,” Sakura fires back, but he’s grinning. Fights always get him wound up, but he’s been wanting to fight Kaji for a while now. 

They quickly fall into a rhythm, kicking and jabbing at one another without relent. Sakura gets in a few hard hits to Kaji’s gut. Kaji responds with an uppercut that makes Sakura’s ears ring. It’s potently satisfying, fighting someone with similar acrobatics to him, even if Kaji isn’t as flashy about it. Sakura observes that Kaji uses his entire body when he fights, not relying on kicks like Tsubaki or powerful punches like Tsugeura.

Sakura is faster, but Kaji is stronger, and they rapidly drive each other to fatigue. A lucky sweep to the legs has Kaji faltering in his footing, and Sakura seizes the advantage, grappling his senpai around the middle and taking him to the ground. He raises a fist ready to strike when he spots Kaji’s expression. He looks a little surprised, but there’s something else lingering in his expression. A particular darkness to his eyes that Sakura hasn’t seen before. A vague smile just barely tilting his mouth that looks dangerously proud. 

Sakura hesitates. It’s only for half a second, but it’s all Kaji needs to sit up, locking his arms around Sakura’s waist and flipping them over. They’re close. They’re so fucking close that Sakura can feel Kaji’s breath on his face as his senpai pants from exertion. They’re so close that he can feel the warmth of Kaji’s legs against the inside of his thighs, even through his pants. Sakura’s eyes fall to Kaji’s mouth on reflex— because of their position, because of Kaji’s breathing, because Sakura can’t stop thinking about him pulling that damn lollipop away from his lips— before they dart up to meet Kaji’s stare. He’s hardly been on his back for three seconds when Kaji pulls away, sitting back on his heels, giving Sakura room to sit up and shuffle away.

“Good work,” he says shortly.

Sakura glances sidelong at him. “Whatever. You won.”

“Nah.” Kaji just shakes his head. “You hesitated. You’d have had me otherwise.”

This time when Sakura looks at him, the expression on Kaji’s face is indisputably pride. It’s hard to look away, even as Sakura knows he’s blushing.

“Catch your breath,” Kaji tells him, standing up and offering Sakura a hand. “We’ll go again in a minute.”

Sakura takes the offered hand, letting Kaji pull him to his feet. He’s turning around to grab a bottle of water when he hears Kaji’s voice alarmingly close. 

“Hey, what’s that?”

“What?” A finger hooks Sakura’s collar, pulling him back with a tug.

“Did you hide an injury again? I told you to stop doing that.”

He tugs the collar back further to get a closer look, and Sakura instinctively resists as the material begins squeezing his neck. He feels the exact moment when Kaji sees his scarred back. 

Kaji ceases pulling against his collar, going still and quiet behind him. He’s so fucking close; close enough that his breath skims Sakura’s ear as he whispers, “What the fuck?”

Sakura tries to pull away, squirming when Kaji’s hold on his shirt doesn’t budge. He knows the stupid word carved into his shoulder is visible. “Oi, don’t stare!”

Kaji abruptly releases him, causing Sakura to stumble a bit. He hastily yanks his jacket back on, safely creating a barrier between the shredded skin and Kaji’s prying eyes. Sakura orders, “Just ignore it, okay?”

The words are met with silence. After a beat, Sakura glances up curiously. He immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Kaji looks disgusted. His mouth is slack, face pulled back into a grimace as he stares at Sakura, eyes practically glowing. It’s so hauntingly familiar to how he’s been looked at in the past that Sakura’s stomach drops like a rock.

He swallows, trying to steel his rapidly climbing heart rate. “Kaji-”

“Shut up!”

The outburst makes both of them jump, and Kaji looks freshly horrified when Sakura flinches. Without another word, he spins on his heel and stomps out of the gym, slamming the door with a BANG loud enough to make Sakura’s hair stand on end. The sound echoes around the room, reminding Sakura that he is alone. He’s been left alone, again , because of how he looks. This time by someone he admires, someone who knows him, someone he’d really thought--

Sakura cuts off that line of thought before it can go anywhere. It was never going to happen, not for him, and he’s always known that. Swallowing down the hot ball of tears swelling in his throat, Sakura tugs his phone out of his pocket, shooting off a quick text to one group chat or other before making his own way out of the gym. He walks until he’s off school grounds, and then he breaks into a run.

Sakura doesn’t stop running the entire way back to his apartment.

Chapter Text

Kaji knows he should have explained himself before he went barrelling out of the gym, but he honestly doesn’t believe he’d have managed one word before exploding. The window of Sakura’s pulled collar hadn’t been big enough to afford Kaji a proper look at his back, but he’d spied the shaky, raw characters scratched into Sakura’s shoulder, and Kaji’s vision had gone red.

He’d left before the rage overtook him; he didn’t want Sakura to see him like that. It’s behaviour unbefitting of a senpai, and Kaji works hard not to succumb to the blackout furies that had plagued his younger years.

Relapses are inevitable though; Kaji reminds himself of this as his feet pound down the hallway, carrying him as far as possible whilst the anger bubbles hot inside him, ready to spill. Kaji barely makes it to the courtyard before he breaks. Rounding the corner, he whirls on his heel and smashes his fist into the side of a vending machine.

Thank god it’s already broken. The metal crumples under his knuckles, but not nearly enough. Kaji punches it again, and again, over and over, teeth grit hard enough to make his jaw pop. He shouts wordlessly, the enmity burning its way up through his throat.

They’d cut him.

Some bastard had cut Sakura, purposefully.

FREAK.

As if he chose his appearance. As if it was even a problem, or could warrant such cruelty.

The abhorrent unfairness of it makes Kaji feel sick, and he kicks the vending machine so hard that it tilts on its legs, threatening to topple over sideways. Kaji distantly thinks he might have broken a toe.

“KAJI!”

Strong arms wrap around Kaji’s torso, trapping his arms to his sides. He instinctively struggles, twisting and kicking his legs out with a cry. The person behind him takes the opportunity to sweep his legs, bringing Kaji down to his knees, their weight against his back. Kaji roars, punching the rough ground until his arm aches.

There’s someone talking to him, repeating mantras in a gentle tone by his ear. The arms around his don’t let up, but Kaji slumps into them, feeling the overwhelming fury drain away into something stinging and tender. He sucks in a breath and is surprised when it hitches in his chest.

“It’s okay, Ren,” Hiiragi tells him, solid as a rock in a storm. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Kaji inhales again, digs his fingers into the firm floor, trying to ground himself. Hiiragi stays like that until his breathing has returned to normal, and then his arms are sliding loose. One hand stays planted between Kaji’s shoulder blades.

“Hey,” Hiiragi prompts as he ducks into view. 

Kaji stares at his senpai’s collar, unable to meet his gaze. It’s been a while since he lost control like that. He says, “I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Wanna get up off the floor and tell me what’s going on?”

“... Yeah.”

Kaji lets Hiiragi loop an arm around his waist and help him to his feet, leaning into the strong hold a little before he catches himself. Lets Hiiragi direct them over to a bench where Kaji throws himself into a seat, abruptly feeling exhausted.

“Sorry about the vending machine,” he says after a moment.

Hiiragi clicks his tongue but he’s smiling when he says, “It’s a good reminder that we need to replace that one. Don’t worry about it.”

Kaji nods mutely, letting silence fall between them. His mind drifts to Sakura; undoubtedly he’s left the gym by now after Kaji’s tantrum.

Shut up!

Kaji curls in on himself at the memory of how he’d shouted. He imagines Sakura tugging his jacket on and exiting the gym, and a wave of regret crashes over him so hard that he has to grip the bench to stay upright. He knows he owes Hiiragi an explanation for crushing a vending machine out of the blue, but Kaji isn’t sure where to start.

“Is this about Sakura-san?”

Luckily, Hiiragi seems to have saved him the effort. Kaji twitches, eyes flicking over to his friend. Hiiragi is wearing a tired, albeit knowing, look on his face. He leans back in his seat with a sigh. “So it is, huh? Did something happen between you two?”

“You don’t have to phrase it like that,” Kaji grumbles, chewing the inside of his cheek. As if he could hide anything from Hiiragi. The guy probably knew about Kaji’s crush before he did. “You know how he doesn’t take off his jacket much. Until recently, at least.”

“Ah.” Hiiragi leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “The scars?”

Kaji blinks, shock rippling through him. “You knew?”

“Nah, he didn’t tell me anything. I only saw ‘em because Sakura used his shirt to wipe his face when we were covering up graffiti last week. And I overheard Sugishita-san mention them to Umemiya.”

“Oh.” Probably Sakura’s class knows, then. That would make sense considering how Sakura seems more at ease discarding his Furin jacket now. He fidgets, debating whether he should reveal more. 

Eventually, Kaji continues, “Sakura doesn’t talk about his past a lot. There’s no problem with that, I get having stuff you don’t wanna tell others but--” Kaji fishes in his pocket for a lollipop. His fingers clasp around nothing. “The people in his last town. They carved a word into him.” Hiiragi hisses out a gasp, a small wounded sound escaping him. 

Kaji taps his own shoulder with two fingers. “Right here. An awful word. They carved him . Like a fucking etch-a-sketch!”

Kaji can feel the anger heating in his belly again, and he mashes his teeth together, wishing he had a spare sucker to stop the caustic spill of profanities rising behind his tongue. One miraculously appears beneath his nose, and Kaji looks up to see Hiiragi holding it, an understanding smile tilting his lips.

“So you came all the way out here to avoid losing it in front of your kouhai?” He guesses.

Kaji groans, unable to refute how well this guy knows him. “I didn’t even say anything to him before I left. I should’ve said something. ”

“Sounds like you made a mature decision to remove yourself from the situation,” Hiiragi replies, like a fucking adult or whatever. “But now’s probably a good time to go explain yourself. I’ll text you if I see Sakura-san.”

Kaji plucks the lollipop from Hiiragi’s fingers and jams it in his mouth. “Yeah, okay.”

He goes to stand but Hiiragi’s hand on his arm stops him. 

“Let me sort you out first,” Hiiragi says, inclining his head towards Kaji’s hand and oh-- “Your knuckles are bleeding.”

╰──────┄ °❀ ❀° ┄──────╮

Suou stares at his phone silently, wondering what could have happened in the thirty minutes since Kaji took Sakura to go spar. A short text from Sakura stares back at him.

🌸 > Feeling sick. Gone home.

Even though they haven’t known him very long, it’s universally understood by Furin students that when Sakura sends a text saying he’s sick, 1/10 times it’s because he’s actually unwell. The other nine times, it’s because something has affected him emotionally that he doesn’t know how to address and he’s avoiding it. Contrary to what others may think, Suou considers Sakura to be quite emotionally intelligent. Being neglected for a long time means you only have your thoughts for company, after all. Likely he’s removed himself so he can process his feelings without an audience.

Which is why Suou isn’t surprised when not five minutes later, Kaji Ren is slamming open the door to classroom 1-1. He looks a little wild; a fresh bandage is wrapped around his right hand. His eyes find Suou instantly, and Kaji beelines for his desk.

“You’re one of the vice-captains, right?” Kaji demands by way of greeting. “Where the hell’s Sakura?”

Suou stands from his seat, inclining his head politely. “Hello, Kaji-san. I’m surprised Sakura-kun didn’t text you.” Kaji’s eye twitches, and Suou stretches his smile wider. Whatever Kaji did, it was enough to send Sakura running home; Suou may feel inclined to make his senpai sweat a little. He explains, “Sakura-kun wasn’t feeling well so he went home.”

“He left?!” It’s a little satisfying to see the genuine distress on Kaji’s face, even as his voice raises. “Fuck. I’m going after him.”

“Excuse me, Kaji-san.” Before he can react, Suou grasps Kaji’s wrist and pulls, spinning them so Suou is planted firmly between him and the door. “I think at this time, it would be better to allow our Grade Captain to rest, don’t you agree?” Kaji looks ready to bite out a retort, but Suou continues, “After all, whatever made him unwell was bad enough he had to return home. I’d hate for you to catch it.”

Kaji closes his mouth, eyes narrowing. It’s honestly more restraint than Suou expected of him, so he’s happy to comply when the older boy jerks his chin towards the door with a grunt of, “Outside,” before he stomps out the classroom without waiting to see if Suou is following.

Nirei stands up from his desk nervously to join them, mouth wavering at the corners. Behind him, the rest of the class is staring, obviously stunned at seeing Suou unflinchingly parry an upperclassmen.

“You don’t have to force yourself,” Suou reassures Nirei on his way past. “I can handle this.”

For a second, Nirei looks like he’s going to agree. But then his expression hardens with determination and he shakes his head. “No. I’m a vice-captain, too. A-and I’m also worried about Sakura-san! I should come.”

Fondness bursts in Suou’s chest like a wave. He stores the urge to pat Nirei’s head for later when they’re alone, and the two of them step outside the classroom.

Kaji is posted up against the wall with a stormy expression, a lollipop jammed between his lips.

“Kaji-san,” Suou announces himself when he approaches. “Did something happen between you and Sakura-kun that we should know about?”

“You really know how to cut to the chase,” Kaji replies, scowling.

“Hm? Is that what people say about me?”

A sneer is already building on Kaji’s face when Nirei jumps in. “Kaji-senpai, is Sakura-san okay? He’s not hurt, is he?”

Kaji’s face twists with indignation. “Of course he’s not hurt!”

Suou keeps his smile light as he gently reminds him, “Not all hurt is physical.”

At that, Kaji’s expression shutters. One hand comes up to fidget with his headphones; he probably wants to put them on desperately.

A beat passes before Kaji grits his teeth, glancing sidelong at Suou and Nirei. “You guys know about his scars, right?”

Nirei squeaks, flinching with his full body.

Ah, Suou thinks. So Kaji knows, now.

“Y-yeah… We know,” Nirei mumbles weakly.

Suou pays him on the shoulder, eyes still on Kaji. “Sakura-kun was kind enough to oblige the class with a display.”

“Is that so.” Kaji doesn’t sound too surprised, but his eyes narrow as he stares at something far away. 

“I can understand that it may be shocking,” Suou tells him. “It’s obvious that Sakura-kun is self-conscious about it.”

“Yeah.” That one word alone speaks volumes, but even more so by the way Kaji’s expression pinches. He turns to look Suou firmly in the eye. “I need to know where he is.”

Nirei starts to babble out an excuse but Suou interrupts him before he can get far.

“I’ll text you his home address.”

Chapter Text

Sakura isn’t a coward by any means, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about skipping school tomorrow. The thought of patrolling with Kaji after what happened earlier fills him with a dread so heavy it makes him borderline nauseous. Sakura can still remember the downturned corners of Kaji’s mouth, lips parted in disgust as he’d looked at him. It sits behind Sakura’s eyelids every time he closes them.

Kaji looked horrified.

By Sakura.

Someone Sakura looked up to, respected as a friend, someone he’d-- 

Kaji lips parting around a lollipop. His dark eyes when he’d pressed it to Sakura’s mouth—

Sakura grits his teeth and fishes a hand out of his futon until he finds his jacket. Tugging the iPod nano from the pocket, he shoves the crappy, tangled wire headphones into his ears and clicks on the first song that comes up. It’s something loud and very Kaji-like, because of course it is. Sakura closes his eyes and lets the song wash over him like white noise. Shutting off two of his senses like this actually helps a bit; it feels like the world has shrunk down just to what Sakura can feel, contained in a bubble of music that pulses through him like a heartbeat. He can see why Kaji finds it so appealing.

Sakura’s mind circles back to his senpai as the song continues blasting in his ears. It’s not hard to see the similarities between them; Sakura has been around Kaji enough to learn that the older boy dislikes his aggressive outbursts, how they alienate him from others, how he can’t bear the way his friends would look at him with fear. Sakura knows those feelings intimately, even if they don’t match up exactly — he’s always been looked at with fear and repugnance, he’s always been alienated from others. He hates, keenly, that someone he cares about has felt the shame and loneliness of these things, but he can’t help but be grateful that he’s not alone in this experience. 

Kaji gets it. Gets him.

He’d lent Sakura an mp3 player the moment he’d found out that he hadn’t listened to enough music to have a preference. Sakura looks at the iPod in his hand and feels an emotion roll up his throat, swelling like a balloon.

Kaji had looked at him with dark eyes and a private smile like— he’d looked at Sakura like—

Sakura rips the headphones from his ears and lobs the iPod across the room before he can finish that thought. The tiny device makes a plink as it clips off one of the wall support beams, landing on the tatami with a dull thud. The screen is black.

“Shit!” Sakura dives out from his futon to snatch it off the floor. The device doesn’t turn back on. Not even when Sakura mashes the tiny little buttons and shakes it like a glow stick. “No no no no n-”

A knock at the door interrupts Sakura’s spiralling mind. He squints at his phone across the room; he’d told his classmates that he wasn’t feeling well, but his vice captains had come to visit him last time. Probably they’re here to check on him. He debates just ignoring the knock until they go away, but he still hasn’t gotten a lock so they’ll probably just come in if he doesn’t answer.

Sakura trudges to the front door, tugging down his oversized sleep shirt as he pulls it open.

“Suou, I already told you, I’m-”

“Sakura-san.”

Kaji stands outside, headphones around his neck, hand raised like he’s about to knock again. He’s panting a little, cheeks pink, like he’d run here. The thought makes something in Sakura’s chest squeeze painfully.

“What are you doing here?!” he blurts before he can stop himself.

Kaji shakes himself out of his stupor, dropping his hand and straightening up. “Your vice captain, Suou Hayato. He gave me your address.”

“Oh.”

Kaji’s brows pinch together. “Can I come in?”

He says it like a challenge, but Sakura doesn’t miss the way his fists curl. If he’s going to yell at him for something, at least he’s polite enough to wait for an invitation. Sakura steps back and pulls the door a little wider. It’s all the encouragement Kaji needs to push past him and into the apartment, kicking his shoes off in the genkan as he goes. 

The atmosphere feels like a bubble about to pop, heavy and full. Trailing behind him, Sakura doesn’t miss the way Kaji’s brows do this concerned little twitch as he looks around the barren bedroom. Sakura is aware it doesn’t look great, with the water stains on the wall and the tatami peeling apart in one corner of the room, and usually he doesn’t mind it since he only uses this place to sleep. But having Kaji here makes self-consciousness prickle under his skin.

After a moment of taking it in, Kaji shakes his head with a low mutter. Sakura only catches a soft, “-the hell?” Before his senpai turns to face him.

Without uttering a single word, Kaji starts to strip. 

He takes his headphones off first, placing them down carefully the way Sakura has seen him do before. Then he shrugs off his jacket, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull over his head, exposing his bare torso. It’s like the start of a bad porno. 

Sakura slaps his hand over his eyes with a yelp. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Take your hand away and look at me, you prick!”

Something in Kaji’s voice has Sakura’s fingers sliding from his face. He sounds angry as usual, but it’s something else. A tinge of desperation staining the edges. Kaji has only stripped down to his trousers, and even though it’s not Sakura’s first time seeing him shirtless, he keeps his eyes firmly on the other boy’s face. Kaji’s expression is complicated; he’s glaring like he’s trying to get to the bottom of Sakura.

He flings out his right arm with a grunt. 

“I got this scar from a compound fracture when I was ten. I don’t remember doing it, but apparently I tried to punch an older kid and ended up hitting the jungle gym. It took three months to heal.”

Sakura looks at the proffered arm; sure enough, a faint dark line sits against the skin, curved upwards like a scimitar.

Kaji rolls his other arm and continues, “This shoulder is permanently dislocated. See how the joint is misshapen? It would take surgery to grind the bone down so they can pin it back in place. Since I’m not in pain and I have full mobility, the doctor said I could leave it.”

If Sakura peers at Kaji’s shoulder, he can see how it looks uneven, sitting a little higher than his other side, bumpy where it shouldn’t be. 

“These are from a middle schooler I flattened.” Kaji lifts his left arm to exhibit a row of three pale lines following the shape of his ribcage. “Someone dragged me off him, I think. But the kid was so distressed that his nails cut right through my shirt.”

It’s obvious what Kaji is doing; the gesture is nice, but Sakura can’t help but think those kids had it coming, if whatever they said to Kaji triggered him so badly. 

Sakura’s scars aren’t reactionary. They’re not a result of him fighting, they’re a result of him being… Him.

“You don’t have to show me all this,” Sakura tells Kaji. “I don’t think less of you for fighting. That wouldn’t be fair of me.”

“We all have scars, Sakura-san,” Kaji replies. He sounds real firm, real nice, like a proper senpai. Sakura wants to wrap his clothes even tighter around himself. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not like this. It’s not the same as getting hurt from a fight.”

“The ones I showed you are from me losing control , not from me protecting the town,” Kaji snaps. He seems to be getting more irritated as the seconds march on, and he brandishes one of his hands to display it. Sakura notices there are bandages around his knuckles. “Just today I lost control and cut up my knuckles! Only half of these scars I got since joining Furin!”

Sakura turns away, feeling ashamed. “That’s different. Those are from protecting people.”

“YOU’RE a person!” Kaji yells so fiercely that it takes Sakura a second to realise Kaji is holding the front of his shirt, dragging him forward until their noses almost touch. He’s fisting Sakura’s collar with both hands. “You count! Protecting your own person counts!”

It’s sickening, really, how quickly Sakura feels a hot prickling behind his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Kaji, not in a million years. But it’s impossible to ignore the immense, breathtaking relief that comes from those words. Sakura is only now understanding just how much he’s been wanting to hear someone say that to him.

He’s not a violent, mad dog looking to hurt people. He’s not some freak people should be afraid of. 

He’s a person.

He counts.

It feels too good to be true, and too terrifying to hope.

Kaji must see the conflict on his face because his snarl drops, tension uncoiling from his limbs. Leaning forward, he presses their foreheads together with a sigh.

“It’s fine if you don’t get it yet,” Kaji mumbles, sounding weary. He’s still not letting go of Sakura’s shirt. “I struggled at first, too. You can take your time, okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

He’s so close.

When Kaji closes his eyes, Sakura is sure he can count the older boy’s lashes. He’s so close that Sakura scarcely knows what to do with his hands. He reaches up, making an aborted motion to loosely circle Kaji’s wrists but stops halfway.

It’s almost a relief when Kaji steps back, straightening out Sakura’s shirt with a gruff sweep of his fingers. His touch lingers a second longer than normal, and then Kaji is moving away, crossing the room to swipe his shirt off the floor and pull it back on. The motion makes his bandages flash white in the dimly lit room.

“Your hands-” Sakura starts, pausing when Kaji’s eyes cut to him. His eyes are narrowed almost defensively, and it’s so different to his usually impassive expression that Sakura nearly misses the uncomfortable twist of his mouth. 

“I told you. I lost control,” Kaji explains, not meeting Sakura’s eyes. He’s embarrassed, Sakura realises with a jolt. “After I left you in the gym. I didn’t want you to see me like that, so I just booked it.” Kaji lifts his head, meeting Sakura’s gaze dead on. “I’m sorry. I should have explained myself first.”

Sakura looks away. He can only hold earnest eye contact like that for so long. “You don’t gotta apologise to me. And anyway, don’t you only lose control when you’re angry?”
“I was angry.” Kaji grits his teeth. His hands are shaking minutely. “I’m still angry.”

Oh. Sakura’s eyes widen as it slots together in his head. He was angry for me.

Had gotten so angry on his behalf, in fact, that he’d punched his knuckles raw.

A warm, glowing feeling starts filling Sakura from the bottom up, like coals coaxed into a fire. It feels tremulous and overwhelming, and a lot like gratitude.

“You don’t have to show me,” Kaji says quietly, breaking the rising momentum. “Not if you don’t want to. I’m just letting you know that I won’t judge you.”

He sounds so patient that it’s too much, like Kaji really would be fine if Sakura never even took off his jacket in front of him again. Sakura’s stomach squirms at having so much kindness directed at him, and he turns his back to Kaji with a huff.

“You don’t have to sound so damn serious, it’s really not a big deal. I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss either, so I might as well show you. The class has already seen ‘em, anyway.”

“Sakura-san, you don’t need-”

“Just shut up and let me!”

Sakura yanks his own shirt over his head and lets it drop unceremoniously to the floor. There’s silence from behind him. Not even a sharp intake of breath. After a moment, Sakura hears Kaji approach, his footfalls careful, signalling in case Sakura wants to stop him.

“These were all deliberate?” Kaji’s voice is low and with a faint tremor. Sakura can practically see his senpai curling his fists. It stokes that warm feeling in his belly.

He shrugs. “Most of them. There are probably a few from stupid accidents and lucky shots.”

Kaji breathes out slowly, and even that sounds shaky. ”No wonder you’re so strong. You’ve been fighting to survive this whole time.”

Sakura scoffs. “Don’t talk about me like some bird with a broken wing. I’m strong on my own.”

”That goes without saying.” The easy reply catches Sakura off guard, and the fight goes out of him in an instant. Kaji’s next words knock his shaky foundations clear away. “You didn’t deserve this.”

A hot, tight knot rises in Sakura’s throat. He wrestles it down immediately, swallowing hard in an attempt to clear the warm prickle behind his eyes. “It’s fine. It happened, but it’s over now.”

“It’s not fine,” Kaji growls, and he sounds a lot closer than he was before. “None of this is fine, Sakura-san. How could anyone ever-” he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan. “I wish I’d known you sooner. I could’ve protected you.”

“I don’t need protecting-”

Cool fingers brush against Sakura’s spine, tracing the rough skin along the dip.

“This okay?” Kaji asks, quiet and raspy.

“... Yeah.”

Those fingertips trace a pathway up the knobs of Sakura’s vertebrae before moving outwards, outlining the shape of his scars. The rough ones first, then the smooth, longer ones that Sakura doesn’t like to remember.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Some of them I can’t feel at all.”

Kaji makes an unhappy noise at that, but his fingers continue, grazing Sakura’s skin in a pattern until they finally come to rest on the kanji scratched into his shoulder. Sakura can feel the way they tremble as they ghost over the jagged strokes.

He doesn’t say anything about it. Sakura almost wishes he would; the silence is becoming unbearable the more it stretches.

“I—“

Kaji’s lips press oh so gently against the torn skin and Sakura’s mouth snaps shut. 

“Still okay?” Kaji checks.

Sakura nods, not trusting his own voice. He’s grateful for the dim light of the room, so he can hide the furious blush spreading down his face. 

Kaji waits a beat, for him to change his mind maybe, before he says, “Stop me if you hate it.”

Kaji is so close.

Closer than Sakura has ever been with another person, like this. Close enough that Sakura can smell his cologne and the faint scent of shampoo.

He’s so close that Sakura’s fight instinct shoots all the way past flight and settles on freezing like a deer in headlights. If he moves, he’ll surely burst this suspended bubble of intimacy in which it feels like the world is holding its breath.

Sakura holds still as he can whilst Kaji plots the maps of his scars, an inch at a time. It’s nearly impossible, his body hypersensitive and trembling with every sweep of Kaji’s mouth, every glide of his fingers. Kaji’s touch is cool, but only because Sakura feels like he’s burning, flushed to the tips of his toes, and gentle, too. So gentle that it’s hard to imagine these same hands crushing thug’s noses with controlled, deadly fury. Sakura’s legs feel like they could give out any second.

When Kaji reaches Sakura’s nape, he swipes the tip of his tongue over it. Sakura makes a noise he could have gone his entire life without knowing he could make. His knees choose that moment to finally give out, and the only thing that saves him from crashing butt-first to the floor is Kaji belting an arm around his waist to keep him upright. Even that is gentle, the hold firm but not too tight.

Suddenly, Sakura is deeply grateful that Kaji put his own shirt back on; he’d surely shake apart if they touched skin to skin right now. He’s never been touched like this: Carefully, like he’s something precious; reverently, like he’s something beautiful.

“Sakura-san,” Kaji breathes against his neck, voice rough. Sakura nearly loses his legs again, but the arm around his waist squeezes securely. “Is it— Do you hate it?”

The faintest tremor in his voice has Sakura sucking in a breath, realising that Kaji is feeling just as affected. It’s reassuring to know he’s not the only one, feeling a little flayed, a little tender. Sakura plants his feet more firmly, leaning the slightest bit back into Kaji’s hold. The arm holding him squeezes again.

“No,” Sakura says. Wheezes, really. He breathes out, pushing his voice to be a little stronger. “That’s… I mean— I didn’t… Hate it.”

Kaji hums, finally pulling back, though he keeps his hand wrapped loosely around Sakura’s abdomen. Sakura peers at him over his shoulder. It feels a bit too much like he’s hiding, and so he steels himself and turns in the circle of Kaji’s arms. When the older boy sees the state of Sakura’s chest, a dark look crosses his face, lips curling briefly into a snarl.

Sakura grabs his chin, forcing Kaji’s eyes up to meet his.

“Don’t look at it, alright? It’s not going away, so you don’t have to react like that every time.”

He means it to sound stern, but it uncoils into vaguely pleading. Sakura won’t manage if Kaji’s face pinches whenever he sees the scarring. Too late, he notices that he’s holding the second year by the jaw, keeping their faces close. He sees Kaji’s eyes flick down to his mouth and stay there, even as he says, “I can’t help it. I’m not gonna apologise, either.”

Sakura blinks. He’s sort of… lost the thread of the conversation. Since Kaji looked at his mouth with an expression that can only be described as hunger.

“Can’t help what?” Sakura croaks.

He barely finishes speaking before Kaji’s lips press whisper-light against his. Sakura holds his breath. Kaji’s eyes are closed - Should Sakura close his?? What should he do with his hands? Kaji’s are around his still bare waist and shoulders, but Sakura only has one free. 

Just as quickly as he came, Kaji withdraws, leaning back enough that Sakura can take in his expression. He looks like he’s waiting for something, eyes wide and… Oh fuck. He looks vulnerable. 

“That,” Kaji breathes. “I told you, it’s okay if you don’t get it yet.”

Sakura has been quiet for too long. He knows he needs to say something, but he can’t think of what so he just squeezes his eyes shut and leans in. Kaji huffs, amused, and then he’s catching Sakura’s mouth with his again, pressing harder this time, and Sakura’s brain clicks off. It’s a bit stilted - Sakura has fuck all experience and he’s mostly trusting his snatched glances of kissing scenes in movies. He lets Kaji guide his head to tilt to one side, deepening the kiss. His hand drops from Kaji’s jaws to his chest, the other finding its way up into his senpai’s hair. The way Kaji groans appreciatively when he tugs at the bleached strands has Sakura shaking like a leaf.

The first swipe of Kaji’s tongue against his bottom lip has Sakura gasping with surprise, and the older boy seizes the opportunity to press inside his mouth. He doesn’t push too far, almost teasing with the way he flicks against the tip of Sakura’s tongue with his own, making Sakura tingle all over. He might very well pass out from sensory overload; Kaji’s hands still press against his skin.

Perhaps sensing the impending overwhelm, Kaji pulls back before it can really build heat. When his eyes pass over Sakura’s flushed face, the bastard has the cheek to look smug.

“C’mon,” he says, lacing their fingers together and pulling Sakura towards the futon.

“What?” Sakura nearly chokes on the word. “I’m not going to bed right now? It’s like 8pm.”

“Not to sleep,” Kaji says, pausing when Sakura makes a sound he will deny until the grave. “And not for that either! Are you some kind of pervert?!”

“Says the guy dragging me into bed!”

“You—!” Kaji growls, the softness giving way for a second. “Just, ugh, come here!”

He yanks Sakura unceremoniously down onto the futon, parrying the squirming smacks Sakura tries to send his way and arranging them to his satisfaction. “Like this, you little prick.”

And oh… This is nice actually. They’re lying on their sides facing each other. Kaji’s arms are wrapped around Sakura’s shoulders, Sakura’s head tucked under his chin. It makes Sakura feel small, somehow. Safe. The notion is alien and unfamiliar, and all of Sakura’s instincts are yelling at him to reject the foreignness. But he breathes through it, lets the tension leave him and just feels. 

They lie like that until the streetlamps ignite, filling the room up with blueish light.

“I broke your iPod,” Sakura admits.

Kaji twitches, obviously not expecting the random topic. “The fuck?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s kind of easy for Sakura to burrow his face into Kaji’s neck and avoid his anger. “I— After you left the gym, I was feeling kind of shitty, and I tried to distract myself with the music, but it just reminded me of you so… I threw it across the room. Now it won’t turn back on.”

Kaji uncurls one arm from his back, and for one horrifying moment, Sakura thinks he’s going to get up and leave. He nearly panics when he realises how much he doesn’t want that; his hands preemptively latch into Kaji’s shirt. But the second year just gropes blindly about the tatami behind him until his hand lands on the device in question.

He peers at it for all of three seconds before saying, “It’s fine, just out of battery.” 

“Oh.” Relief washes through Sakura like a breeze. 

Kaji notices and holds him that much tighter. “Forgot to ask. Find anything you like?”
Sakura thinks for a moment. He feels a touch embarrassed, knowing that the song he’d liked the most on the mp3 player was a far cry from Kaji’s usual tastes. “Uhhh, yeah but I don’t know what it’s called. The name is in English, so I couldn’t read it.”

Kaji hums, contemplating. “Was the artist in Katakana?”

Sakura recites the name a little clumsily, but Kaji seems to get it because he tugs his phone out of his pocket and types something into it quickly before tossing it somewhere on the futon. A tentative roll of orchestra fades into the room, filling the space around them with a little pocket of ambience.

Kaji makes a small noise in the back of his throat as the song continues. “Oh yeah, my mum’s into this stuff. Would never have pegged you for a Classical guy.”

Sakura scowls at him. “Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Kaji merely shrugs. “Guess you’re kind of romantic at heart, huh?”

“Sh-shut up!?” Sakura hides his face in Kaji’s chest, ignoring the amused rumble vibrating through it. “It’s… Nice.”

“Nice?”

“What? You want me to start listing adjectives?” Kaji doesn’t reply. He runs a hand through Sakura’s hair, effectively dampening the rising ire. Sakura wishes he’d put his shirt back on so that he would feel exposed by his next admission.

“I think it sounds hopeful.”

He doesn’t miss the way Kaji’s breath shivers out of him, and then warm lips are pressing a kiss to his brow.

“Yeah,” Kaji agrees, the smile audible in his voice. “I think so, too.”