Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Asano Gakushuu had always been considered a model student nationwide, from elementary school onwards. So he wasn’t at all alarmed when the miniature classroom radio summoned him to the principal’s office; it happened often, as a way to discuss the students’ general results and so on. Everyone else thought the same thing, as they resumed their note taking while the professor reminded him to pass on any important communications, even though he knew that he would have done so without being asked.

Kunugigaoka, despite being an elite school, was undeniably bare. The monochromatic corridors almost made it resemble a hospital, every corner was meticulously devoid of dirt or dust; you could clearly see the reflection of your shoes walking towards a very specific destination.

Arriving at the door, Asano prepared for a mental speech – which had already been repeated a thousand times – about the students’ collective performance, complete with an assurance of tutoring for students who were struggling with the program. He opens the door with natural conviction, not paying too much attention to the fact that there’s a figure blocking the view of the director, who was sitting comfortably in his leather chair.

This realization comes late, probably because of the many thoughts in the blond's head at nine in the morning. The secondary presence in the office is not a student or a teacher who has come to expand on some complaints or concerns, but a member of the government belonging to the Ministry of Defense - not just any member, but the one who has been formally assigned as class E’s homeroom teacher  - Karasuma Tadaomi.

They seem to be in the middle of a rather animated conversation judging by the fact that the visitor's tone, although cordial and controlled, seems to hold back from raising his voice too much; the director, on the other hand, with his head resting on his hands, maintains a temperament of absolute calmness.

From this detail, the winning party is already clear; whoever manages to remain emotionally uninvolved in a discussion without appearing completely indifferent will end up having the most convincing argument. One of the essential teachings to be able to become the best, courtesy of his father; even though the outcome of this speech is more than clear, Asano decides to listen anyway, in case it could prove to be important information, that is, if it could be turned against him.

“I assure you, Mr. Karasuma, that my methods of education are more than effective.” The director reiterates with a smile that reeks of formal falsehood, while the cabinet member retorts that it was not the problem; the efficiency in this case is undisputed.

“My concern lies in the extremes that were crossed to get to that efficiency.” The insinuation hidden in those words is not met with any kind of reaction other than a brief blink. Despite the disconcerting topic of the conversation, both of their eyes shine with professional seriousness.

“Are you referring to the way I educate my students or something in particular?” There it is. A direct question to break the atmosphere of tension that had been masked through tactical diversions, changes of subject and coffee breaks to relax their vocal cords before an inevitable crescendo of tones for the final showdown.

Nothing new, essentially. Many people have had similar discussions with the principal, never managing to make their point clear. Usually, these cordial wastes of time did not last more than a few hours, after which they could return to the list of programs planned for the day.

For Karasuma – who excelled at following orders given from above without much of a word – his mere presence in this office was beyond tolerable. The man in front of him had agreed to employ a superhuman teacher into his institute for a worrying sum every month; yet, his common sense prevented him from remaining silent about a rather disconcerting incident.

The episode of violence involving Gakuhou and his son. Not only that, through his investigations, the head of the End class and their English teacher had discovered that the foreign students who had come for the sports festival, left the institute in ambulances and were immediately redirected to their places of origin afterwards. These incidents, along with a few others, became a valid reason to verbalize the rising discontent towards these undignified approaches.

Although the young man had communicated extensively with the media about his father's behavior, calling his physical assault a mistake caused by an accumulation of stress, speculation about his family’s situation continued. Even though Gakushuu had omitted his personal comment regarding the delayed display of a fatherly attitude; which would have only added fuel to the fire.

“Asano.” The principal unexpectedly involves him in the scene after having neglected his presence for almost an hour; the importance of the speech must have deafened the entrance of a third character in the office. Even if it was postponed, the call from that changes his role from that of a spectator to someone who is part of the main scene arrives; it’s unexpected and full of coldness, but it comes.

After three seconds of shock, Gakushuu responds with practiced naturalness to the call. It is not the first time he is called into question and it certainly will not be the last; the firstborn is ready to deny any allusion to problems in the family nucleus in a concise and orderly way, until he is interrupted by his father.

Even the man dressed in black turns to look him in the eye, as if he had materialized in that moment. Speeches with the director have this effect, the rest of the world becomes of little importance when one is in front of he who runs one of the most prestigious schools in Japan; it is an obvious but assured immersion, almost dangerous.

“From next month, you will be Karasuma Tadaomi’s responsibility.” The phrase is said so nonchalantly, accompanied by a poster-like smile, that it takes a few minutes for those mentioned to understand its meaning. Confused expressions quickly turn into shocked faces, which seems to cheer up the headmaster, who does not elaborate on his statement on his own initiative; it takes an external stimulus to make him delve deeper into his words.

“Please elaborate, director.” Despite the balance in his tone of voice, the panic in Karasuma’s eyes is easily perceptible to someone like Gakuhou, who could be considered an expert in reading and manipulating other people’s emotions; hence the frightening serenity that envelops the head of the Kunugigaoka institution.

“I think I found a way to resolve our little debate.” A shadow seems to envelop the director’s face — although it was present before, it’s undeniable now — his eyes, on the contrary, take on a lively purple that gives the impression of being a rather disturbing and predatory look.

That expression of his could be associated with the moment in which Gakuhou Asano is firmly convinced of having won the verbal battle; even when it has not yet taken place. The opponent, who can no no longer be seen as a simple player in the act of dialogue, can do nothing but accept his defeat; any objection would be rather useless, it wouldn't even have the luxury of being considered.

Now that the government member no longer covered half of the director's figure, Gakushuu was exposed to that same gaze; no matter how many times he sees it, the younger Asano continues to feel petrified by it, even though he has witnessed it enough times to not be affected by it.

“You will take care of Asano for a month, during which we will observe whether the boy is affected by it or not.” Gakushuu hadn't noticed that he had clenched his hands into fists to avoid interrupting the explanation of why he was summoned to the office; his nails were digging into his skin, yet it was nothing compared to a feeling that was akin to betrayal.

Once again, he had returned to being the winning pawn of director Asano Gakuhou, the one who elevated the institute to the level of an elite school in just ten years. Despite his threat of gaining control over his father, the prodigy had lost again; he found himself being overwhelmed by his father's influence without being able to protest, like so many other times before today.

The difference is that this time a stranger is involved, someone who most likely did not expect the situation to degenerate to this point. The role of pawn was much more evident now, since he would serve as a witness for the victory of one of the two; the mere thought could make one feel nauseated. Model student or not, he remained a means to achieve satisfactory results; no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

Karasuma, unaware of the firmness with which the principal finalizes his decisions, tried to propose alternative solutions in a tone that, albeit slowly, became more and more panicky as each suggestion was silently rejected; it was not debatable, the choice had been communicated out of cordiality, rather than to receive sensible objections.

Gakushuu could admit that he did not have a normal relationship with his father, but he did not believe that his son did not interest him to the point of being able to lend him off to a stranger without problems. Although both had difficulty externalizing their affection, the only son had never doubted its existence; if Gakuhou could once be considered an affectionate father, then he could become one again.

“...I suppose I have no say in the matter?” The tone of Gakushuu’s voice was surprisingly calm, as if he were asking a simple question – and yet, fear was starting to circulate in his eyes – the question was open-ended enough to avoid any accusation of judgment towards that final decision.

Gakuhou, slightly annoyed by his useless intervention, reminds his only son not to ask questions to which he already knows the answer. In an act of surrender, Gakushuu excuses himself and leaves without looking back at the gentleman dressed all in black; a humiliating but smart defeat. Knowing the director of Kunugigaoka personally, he knew very well when to give up or stand his ground; today, he had to give up.

The fact that he had to  solve a problem between adults is nothing new, but the method through which it had to be done was terrible. He would be entrusted to a complete stranger for thirty days without being able to refuse or verbalize his displeasure regarding it. It made him seem like a worthless object rather than a respected middle school student; yet, he let his disappointment fester inside him, as usual.

Chapter Text

No one had been informed of this new development to avoid uncomfortable questions. The week would proceed normally down to the last detail, the limousine would pick him up from school like every other day; after that, the destination became the house of someone who worked in the Department of Defense.

At first, being directed to the house of one of the members of the government had given him a bit of performance anxiety, but now he was almost completely indifferent to this fact. He stared out the window looking disinterested, ignoring the car's GPS; a reminder of a terrifying agreement that, unfortunately, was anything but a dream.

The messenger bag made out of leather sat on his lap, containing all the necessary materials for studying. The aforementioned inconvenience would not stop him from remaining in the position of the top student throughout the school, in fact, maintaining it was seen as the only important pastime; learning non-stop was a way to forget, even if momentarily, the embarrassment that was caused by the situation.

It was not that he wasn't studying at his home, but that the atmosphere was different. The driver’s words fell silent like tiny specks of dust like in any car that isn’t intended to transport one of the two members of the Asano family. Instead of mulling over the events that happened a month ago, Gakushuu thinks about next week’s science test, and even though he’s absolutely certain that he will ace it without any problems, he’s brought along summaries, diagrams, and various things to better deepen each of his future answers.

The interaction with the host is brief, not because the boy is needlessly angry at a disposition that is beyond his control, but because it was normal. Asano and his father barely interacted outside of school, they said good morning and goodbye as if that were enough, to acknowledge the fact that they had been sharing the house with someone for the past fourteen years; they went to school following different routes and it was rare for them to have dinner together.

The last day of last month was a rarity, they had dinner together. It’s not a particularly special or awaited event, but a window of time in which they both eat in silence; except for academics, including extracurriculars, which serve as brief conversation topics. Today was no exception, with the addition of Gakuhou asking if he had packed all his bags; a stupid question, which was only asked to pass the time. The father had retreated to his study immediately after, as usual, without saying goodbye to the boy.

A normal person would think that a father would be silently moved by the upcoming departure, but not his father. Close or far, the distance between them seems to be irreducible, and that is a fact; therefore, the attitude towards his new guardian should not be surprising. The first week is rather awkward, of course, but that’s fine; Asano will not be distracted from his studies and Karasuma will be able to take care of whatever it is that he does.

The guest room has become a study room rather than a temporary dormitory, books and notebooks are neatly organized on the desk. Nothing seems to have changed, except for the occasional appearance of bowls of fruit at four o'clock; as well as the new goodnight punctuality, along with other small gestures,

Aside from all this, nothing has changed. However, if he keeps this thought until the end of the month, no one will be satisfied, though taking sides would be akin to playing the director's game; if he sided with his father, it would go against his personal feelings, since the goal of the experiment was to test how much Gakuhou's education influenced his son and whether it was positive or negative.

If he sided with Karasuma, a complete stranger, it would be seen as an act of late rebellion against his father regardless of the validity of the choice. His father, although an incredibly intelligent man, tends to be adamant about any criticism regarding his principles.

Instead of thinking about it too much, he immerses himself in studying until late at night. Around ten in the evening, there is a knock on the door and as immersed as he was in studying, the boy almost jumps out of his chair in surprise; not because he was scared, but because it was such an unusual sound, especially at this hour.

It never happened at home, this made him remember that currently, he was in the home of a stranger. A male voice, on the other side of the door, asks permission to enter; it is Karasuma, who has come to bid him goodnight. The kind gesture seems to confuse him, part of the government or not, a homeroom teacher – especially if they belong to Kunugigaoka – are not the type for these things. Yet, the man is annoyingly punctual; tiredness prevents Asano from thinking about it further, it would be a waste of time in any case.

Another change occurs after this interaction, where the student council president — and the top workaholic — ends his study session. He has been known to pull an all-nighter for various reasons; revision, checking the students' progress through review sheets he provided, etcetera.

But he doesn't want to be rude, he's been taught good manners and it's polite to use them; the fact that the worryingly large, dark circles under his eyes seem to have lightened is simply a bonus.

Despite this, sleeping was still difficult. Considering that his routine didn't have the luxury of being absolutely constant due to his multiple responsibilities, uninterrupted hours of sleep were very hard to achieve; he usually anticipated tasks such as sorting the students' folders according to the ranking, until signs of drowsiness showed up.

At the moment, however, that wasn't possible. His guardian, as the coordinator of class E, probably stayed up late to perform his duties; he looked like a perfectionist who could not tolerate mistakes, similar to the director.

The hasty comparison was immediately dismissed as stupid. Neither of them would have tolerated even the hypothesis of such a thing, so it had no reason to exist; the lack of sleep began to accumulate in meaningless thoughts, and it was slightly frustrating.

But, if he looked at it realistically, the comparison was not entirely senseless. They were two people who secured an important place in society thanks to their intelligence and firmness in the values ​​they believed in; even if the comparison had its reasons, justifying it still seemed wrong.

The reason for this feeling would remain unexplored until he received the means to address it properly. For now, he had to focus on resting.

Chapter Text

His place in the rankings remains unchanged, which was understandable since not even two full weeks had passed since that day. Teachers continued to explain incomprehensibly, so the job of reworking the content in a way in which it could be understood by the rest of the students was wordlessly entrusted to Asano.

It was a habit he had carried over from the sixth grade, a habit that has been of great help in gaining the respect and trust of his classmates and the students outside of his classroom. In the notebook on his desk the summary of the lesson was jotted down, the weak points of the explanation and how to correct them for his improved version; all written in impeccable, neat and more than legible handwriting.

Even though he is completely focused on the lesson, a part of him can't help but think back to the mess he was practically forced to participate in. After realizing this, the blond tries to chase away that distraction by writing in tandem with the teacher's words; effective and engaging as always.

And yet, the thoughts persist. At the end of classes, in the student council clubroom, the president has been checking several student folders for two hours, brief glances directed at several previously corrected paragraphs in silence; after which, the folders are placed on top of a pile opposite the tower of uninspected folders.

The repetitive action helps him chase away the incessant noise in his head, for the moment. His attention is focused on the sorting of files to such an extent that the rest of the room, including the noises and people, fade into the background.

Thus, the presence of the vice-president of the student council almost comes as a surprise; Asano simply looks up from the papers when he is called for the fourth time. Ren, a boy with a questionable haircut who dates girls as if they were clothes, tries to hide his concern with his usual nonchalant tone that some would call charismatic.

“You do the same thing every day now, aren’t you bored?” He was generalizing a bit, but it was typical of Ren’s poetic speech, which, thankfully, he was spared from today; the blond doesn’t bat an eyelid, as if waiting for the right moment to return to his folder reorganization.

 “This is your job too, don’t you have a sense of responsibility?” The jab hits him instantly, one of the charming Sakakibara’s weaknesses is being reminded of how rarely he does his job as vice president to go out and play Prince Charming; this fact tends to be used as a criticism against him by Asano and Seo in particular.

The dark-haired student clears his throat, as if to give the other points for hitting a sensitive spot. Asano debates going back to his papers, but he ultimately decides not to in the case that his classmate has something more to say; and sure enough, he’s right, Ren had always been the more talkative of the two.

“You’re neglecting your social life agan, y’know..” He mutters in hopes that his childhood friend will listen to him for once, instead of collapsing from exhaustion. Although their friendship may look odd to most, they both respect and care for each other as any friend should; introduced by their parents who held a good social status, the two have grown fond of one another.

Gakushuu isn’t swayed in the slightest, which shows in his disinterested reply. “The rest of the school doesn’t seem to think so, unless you classify social life under the list of excuses to waste your time.” Ren seems to have expected that answer, despite being the most popular guy in school, Asano’s social skills outside of anything academically-related can be counted as extremely low; as his loyal friend and a successful charmer, Sakakibara has tasked himself with the resolve to change that.

However, the protégé can prove to be needlessly stubborn when the subject of work is involved; as middle schoolers, though it should be their main priority, forming connections for the sake of companionship and nothing more should be equally as important. Having been raised differently, they have opposing opinions on the matter; in spite of that, the womanizer of class A feels that he cannot leave his classmate be.

“I’m developing my social circle! It’s very important!” Ren argues, rejecting Asano’s response by saying that social circles aren’t meant to be formed solely for the purpose of manipulation or well-hidden cheating; which is a little hypocritical considering how their school does things but, he hopes that the blond understands the point that he’s trying to make.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? Go bother your girlfriend-of-the-week or something.” Feeling personally attacked by this comment, the brunet dramatically enacts being brutally stabbed in the heart, as if the statement is vastly exaggerated; knowing that it isn’t, Gakushuu simply sighs at such a poor display of his friend’s daily theatrics. 

“But I can’t stand seeing you cooped up in here like you’re working an office job..” Sakakibara whines while Asano is not impressed by the comparison, which had likely been made to gain some sort of reaction. Seeing that his good friend’s expression hasn’t changed even a little, the boy is on the verge of giving up; so much for being determined…

…until he gets an idea and regains his confidence, if Gakushuu’s going to continue refusing the importance of making friends outside of school without the pretense of secondary means at play, he’ll have to make it so that he can’t refuse! “We’re meeting up with the others at the park.” Ren states with eyes that shine with self-satisfaction; the blond, who had already returned to his papers, pretends the other boy isn’t there.

Without warning, Asano is pulled out of his seat and on his feet, which makes him drop the folder that he was previously holding. Slightly frustrated, he orders his childhood nuisance to stop fooling around and to let him do his job; refusing this, Ren doesn’t allow him to pick up the fallen papers by pulling him forward while Asano loudly protests.

Eventually, the solo protesting dies down as the boy realizes that he would rather not walk all the way back to school and plead with the janitor not to close the clubroom because he had been very rudely dragged out of it.  

He has the strength needed to release himself out of the brunet’s grip but his lack of will prevents him from doing so. The transition from a classmate dragging another classmate behind him to two friends walking alongside each other is done wordlessly; he’s accepted that they’re going somewhere where he won’t be allowed to study by his friends.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to hangout with his friends, he can’t, which is different. Their dynamic is certainly unhealthy on some level but he doesn’t dislike them; he finds them to be the four most bearable people of his age, which should be taken as a compliment. 

It’s just that his father doesn’t believe in things like friends , they’re made to lose focus on the important things in life, such as succeeding in the outside world; reason for which he refers to his social circle as minions or schoolmates behind closed doors. But really, he isn’t sure if he’d call them his friends because he’s scared of throwing that unspeakable term around.

Everyone’s already there when they arrive six minutes late. The three familiar faces seem surprised to see their leader outside of school grounds; they look at each other and then at the womanizing brunet with a million questions, but the one that seems to prevail is how the boy managed to convince the top student to actually take a break.

For both their sakes, Ren doesn’t say that he forcefully brought the protégé boy out of the student council room and instead lies that he’d agreed to playing soccer with them; Asano raises a brow at this, after looking at nothing for the past seven minutes.

Luckily, the white and blue ball fits in his bag just fine, thus it often travels with him. He agrees to play a game with them after some begging, and he actually has fun playing for a change; he doesn’t say it but he doesn’t stop scoring either.

They split into two teams and Asano has to alternate between them to level the playing field, which he’s not at all mad about because it’s obvious he’s better than everyone else at this. He runs and scores and it’s the best feeling; his current team cheers the loudest while the other team silently misses their football star.

It’s not comparable to practice at all, no one’s putting up a fight to win. It’s similar to the time when he used to play with his father as a child: it seems like forever ago that they spent time together like a family, they were happy together, not just sharing a space in a memory.

He remembers how he used to scrape his knee when he wasn’t focused on his surroundings, and his father would comfort him; he would scoop him up in his arms as he cried. He would put a colorful bandaid over his wound while telling him that he might win the next championship if he keeps playing; during summer, they would almost always go get ice cream afterwards.

It’s the same ball they used all those summers ago, but it was routinely cleaned up and inflated before soccer games. His father had been the one to inspire him to pursue soccer as a hobby, before extracurricular activities became a given in his household; he’d been enjoying it too, the other kids were nice and he had fun, but over time it transitioned to yet another obligation that will help him be better than everyone else.

Only that this obligation in particular still maintained a slim layer of former fatherly affection which may have been lost forever, but he holds onto it regardless. He holds onto it with the belief that his father might ask him to play again; and even though the offer may never come, he holds out hope.

He doesn’t think about it realistically, because that’s how his dreams get crushed, he engages with some wishful thinking instead, for a change. He shouldn’t have to beg for a game and he doesn’t, though being the principal, Gakuhou hardly has time for him anymore; he hopes that’s the sole reason and not something else.

When the quintet goes on break to freshen up a little, he finally has time to check his watch; he’s been out for three hours, which is too much, according to schedule. His father probably isn’t waiting for him to come home but he may very well be questioning his time management skills; saying that he’d been out with his classmates would make it worse.

“It’s really rare for you to join us, Asano!” Araki says and the other three agree, which makes him think that he wouldn’t have agreed to wasting his time like this under normal circumstances; his thoughts trail back to his father’s office and his expression darkens for a second.

Ren says that it’s all thanks to his perseverance and Gakushuu is tempted to point out that his friend had to forcefully remove him from finishing his duties as president of their school’s council for him to show up. Seo argues that it’s rarely ever worked before while Koyama ends the argument by saying that he’s just happy that they’re having fun together.

Asano is pleasantly surprised by how easily Koyama has learned to insert himself in conversations, something he would have greatly struggled with in his first year of school. To think that a boy who seldom spoke in class could rise up to be one of the five excellences of the school in such a short amount of time… Gakushuu might be a tad proud of him for this.

To be honest, there’s an unnamed warmth that grows inside him at the sight of them laughing together beneath a big tree, with the subject of academics being far behind. It’s nice, he recognizes, and finds himself smiling spontaneously; the others seem overjoyed when witnessing their leader’s genuine smile, and Gakushuu tries to hide it because he wasn’t smiling at all just now, they’re imagining things; they must be dehydrated.

It’s too late for that, Ren has already started composing poems centered around his beautiful smile and everyone but the poet sighs; typical. Seo asks the upcoming Shakespeare if he’s heard of a guy named Maehara, a womanizer from class 3-E who seems to think that the two of them have an ongoing rivalry; Sakakibara blinks, as if he might have heard him wrong, and erupts into laughter.

The thought of even acknowledging someone from the End class for a reason that doesn’t involve putting them in their place fully sounds like a joke and no one comments on it. Ren adds that he’s undoubtedly superior in all aspects, if he were to entertain such an idea, he’s sure that a ruffian from the bottom of the barrel could only scare the ladies off.

“He does seem pretty convinced, though…” Araki reiterates, reporting a conversation that he’s accidentally overheard verbatim; along with distinct voices and accents to set the scene. They can definitely picture him as a radio host, he’s got that welcoming energy that every beloved host radiates; they might buy a radio just to listen to his shows.

“Let him believe what he wants.” Asano interrupts, grabbing a water bottle and sipping it gracefully. The weak have always had a one-sided battle with the strong, the important thing is that it stays unacknowledged; a little bit of competition never hurt anyone.

Ren dramatically falls into the blond’s lap looking for consolation when the other three jokingly say that he’s inspired someone to be as reprehensible as he is; Asano limits his comforting gestures to occasionally playing with Ren’s hair. As his childhood friend, Gakushuu has seen these traits blossom and be enhanced by his natural theatrics; although he doesn’t usually go out of his way to use it, his own charm seems to attract some of his female classmates as well.

 When asked, the strawberry blond reaffirms for the third time this week that there are more important things to be focusing on besides pointless romance, a standard response. Although the others admire how much their leader values academics, they think that loosening up wouldn’t harm his reputation all that much; but alas, that’s the kind of person he is.

Koyama comments that the two of them seem like completely different people, yet they’ve known each other the longest. There’s the logical explanation that their parents had introduced them to each other and, having a similar social status, became friends; this satisfies Asano for a bit, before he starts to think about it more.

None of them have a friendship that could be considered normal or absolutely healthy, which Asano may be a little at fault for; in fact, this is a very rare instance in which they allow themselves to act like normal teenagers instead of the smartest people in their respective subjects, which begs the following question.

  Why are they friends?

Sure, the answer isn’t that hard to find, he’s a good leader and his classmates respect him for it. He excels at anything he puts his mind to, anyone would want to follow someone like that; he’s kind, understanding, smart, determined and a bunch of other things that he doesn’t feel like listing off.

He’s brought Koyama out of his shell, he helped Araki to gain confidence with public speaking, encouraged Ren to pursue his interest in literature and he’s allowed Seo’s arrogance to grow with his mastering of the English language; although he might have turned a blind eye to that too many times, he notes.

He’s the principal’s son, yet that couldn’t be counted as an advantage since his father treats him as if he were just another one of his students, even at home. He wonders if his friends would choose to stay with him beyond that, but it’s a stupid thought; he doesn’t need friends.

But then he thinks back to the student council room, how he’d felt awfully lonely trying to fight off the mess in his head by reorganizing papers over and over, and how Ren got him out. He wonders if that was done out of social obligation or because he genuinely wanted to hang out with him; they haven’t done that in a while, and with how demanding the principal can be, Ren never blamed him for cancelling meetups.

He should, Asano thinks, they all should. They deserve someone like Isogai who doesn’t slip up and nearly calls his classmates minions or who isn’t as cold towards them and actually treats them as if they were his friends; they deserve that for being unconditionally loyal to him for three consecutive years.

But he can’t give them that because he’s not supposed to have friends, he’s supposed to be the best and be admired by his classmates, but he can't possibly have friends like a normal teenage boy. He has to be the strongest to be able to survive in the outside world, and apparently, companionship is trivial to that end.

He can fantasize about living a normal life all he wants but that’s not possible for someone like him, he has things to do. In an effort to justify these thoughts, he looks at his watch again and notices that another two hours have gone by. 

He thinks about getting up and is reminded of the weight lying on his feet, he looks down and notices that the brunet has nearly fallen asleep; he takes this chance to attempt leaving in an orderly manner. “Why don’t you stay a little longer, Asano?” Araki asks with a kind smile and before he can object, the other two agree for him; they seem excited at the thought of spending more time together as a friend group rather than regular classmates.

Ren, who had been startled awake by the multitude of voices, joins in almost immediately after, determined on making Asano stay with them some more. It’s undoubtedly confusing but he doesn’t argue back, he can still make it home at a reasonable time; for the next hour, he can pretend to be normal with his friends who are also pretending to be normal with him.

When they bid farewell to each other and go their own ways, the five of them have a fulfilled smile on their face. Ren offers to go home together and Gakushuu reminds him of how much his father would disapprove of that, but he appreciates the offer; after which they all go home.

It’s not home but Asano arrives at his current accommodation late in the evening, he expects to be ignored or even reprimanded for staying out this late instead of studying like he should have. He’s proven wrong in both expectations when Karasuma greets him calmly, sitting at the living room table; the striking thing is that the man has stopped typing, as well as looking at the computer entirely, to look at him in the eyes and ask how his day was.

Chapter Text

Karasuma closes his laptop not long after that and asks him if he wants dinner; confused, Asano points out how it’s past the conventional meal time and his guardian responds that he thought he might be hungry, also, Tadaomi hasn’t eaten anything either. Noticing that his stomach feels decently empty, Gakushuu agrees by saying that he’ll get started on dinner soon; then, he goes into the kitchen.

It’s spotless, as if it were brand new and unused, if it had been used though, Karasuma knew how to clean thoroughly which pleased him: at least he’s living with someone who’ll willingly leave his room. The spices and sauces aren’t that high up which is good, spaghetti should be enough to fill both of their stomachs; luckily for him, he’d beaten his father in the act of cooking and has been in charge of most meals since, this is nothing.

When he returns to set the plates down, he finds that Karasuma has already made the table instead of typing away at his laptop like his father would have done; he appreciates the teamwork. They sit opposite each other and the first sentence spoken between them is his guardian complimenting his cooking; despite the praise not being uncommon, he is a bit surprised at the absence of critique.

The silence filled the space between them, he’d gotten used to that, Asano wasn’t familiar with the fact that people usually spoke to one another during dinner unless something had happened that made them stop talking; after a certain age, he’d distrustfully glared at the television during those segments, because dinner wasn’t as entertaining as the little square box made it out to be.

He wasn’t allowed to watch TV after that. Tadaomi asks how school was and, with a regurgitated response from the last two years, he answers; noticing that, the dark-haired man switches to the topic of after school activities, and Gakushuu replies that he’d gone out with some friends from school; before he has a chance to correct his mistake, Karasuma nods, looking relieved.

The unfamiliarity of the sentence makes him feel unsafe, but there’s no consequence for it. He composes himself by thinking that the man in front of him must live in a world where certain words didn’t need to be avoided; he abandons that thought, taking a spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

He guesses that it’s his turn to talk, since one-sided conversations are no fun, except he isn’t sure how to start. There’s a million things he’d want to ask, like why would a member of the government take on the position of homeroom teacher for a class of misfits who’ve given up on their future; he figures that it might be too direct and it could be misinterpreted as class A wanting to use dirty tactics to ensure the End class’ failure, he doesn’t need to.

“How was your day?” He opts for a simpler approach until they can get to know each other more, there’s no reason to deflect from such an innocent question. Tadaomi begins by saying that it had gone well but that he didn’t expect teaching to be especially difficult; sure, he values the position but he hadn’t expected teenagers to be such a handful.

Gakushuu laughs in fabricated amusement, agreeing that most teens are like that if not raised properly, and judging by his expression, the dark haired man would like to ask him to elaborate; sensing that he’s made a wrong move, he shifts to another topic in a way that feels natural, and the conversation continues.

He can’t afford to be careless with his words, especially not around this man, he doesn’t need more gossip to sneak its way into the newspapers. If he omits any comparison or anecdote about his homelife, it should be fine; it’s not the first time he’s had to walk on eggshells in a conversation.

He says that it’s a matter of experience, and the more time he spends with his students, the more it’ll be easier to successfully teach them based on how they learn; seeing as the class is only made of twenty-eight students, keeping up with their learning styles shouldn’t be too hard.

The man thanks him for the advice and adds that one of his colleagues could benefit from following it; curious, Asano asks him to elaborate and he does. Their English teacher, Miss Jelavić, has a hard time communicating with her students as a foreigner; he nods, it’s not an uncommon struggle for foreigners who accept jobs in a different country. 

He’s met her, unbeknownst to everyone except the principal. He’d dropped badminton to attend her lessons when he’d learned that she was a polyglot, and after explaining how he’d benefit from her teachings in the long-run, the principal had agreed; she was rightfully surprised, tales of his greatness must have reached the mountain’s teachers as well.

He recalls how impressed she was with how engaged he seemed in her lessons, asking questions and writing down grammar rules with neat calligraphy; when it came to pronunciation, she noticed how quickly he’d picked it up and perfected it. When he would make a mistake, he would have this expression that was a mixture of curiosity and disappointment; after which, he’d try again and ace it.

Since they had been learning multiple languages at a time, he’d make sure to keep the constant of practice alive for the next time they met. At one point, she’d introduced the challenge of reading a book in Russian; and although  it had been hard to get used to because of the vastly different alphabet, he managed, chapter by chapter, with her guidance.

They talked about the historical context in which it was written as well, which helped him form an overall idea regarding the author’s beliefs and the message that the book was supposed to convey. He doesn’t know when but eventually, they’d started giving personal commentary in Russian on certain scenes and word usage; he’d annotate them using sticky notes in his copy of the book.

He’d started to look forward to those lessons, right before they’d get taken away because of the rising tension between the two classes; though he would have insisted that the importance of learning new skills and academic competitiveness needed to be distinguished, he went off to do his weekly hours of tutoring without complaining.

He guessed that she must’ve been sent a notice about the situation, but he notified her of his absence regardless to be polite. She’d reacted with saddened disappointment because she knew that the possibility of connecting with another multilingualist over the beauty of any language was low; he held a similar sentiment, as she had been the best languages teacher that he had ever had.

Asano had kept his copy of the book, alongside the lectures’ notes as he felt that they were important bits of information. He does look over them and occasionally smiles at the colorful notes between pages, or the corrections on his personal notes that never lacked more than one exclamation point and a smiley face.

When a lesson about Russian poetry was introduced in the main building, he couldn’t help smiling to himself. He’d even corrected his teacher using Irina’s wording, and the teacher had apologized, telling the others to rewrite his erroneous anecdote with Asano’s correction in mind; his classmates thanked him in unison before writing over that part of their notes. 

Asano doesn’t think about her or her lessons, but Tadaomi’s mention of her sparked some memories. He began sharing some of them to reciprocate Karasuma’s efforts to further their conversation and he listened intently; he’d make small comments such as ‘ that sounds like her ’ or ‘ she must’ve enjoyed teaching you ’ to show that he was paying attention.

He would add some of his own anecdotes concerning her as well, and the flow of the conversation bloomed from there. The earlier tension dissipated with each story and subsequent reply or laughter, and for a moment, Gakushuu didn’t resent the television’s representation of dinners all that much. 

Although the table was being cleared, they continued talking. It went on for a little longer, until they both retired into their rooms after saying goodnight to each other; it was incredibly different from how dinnertime played out in his own home, but it wasn’t bad at all by any means.

It was colorful and the uncomfortable silence was replaced by serene pauses; they’d set and cleared the table together. The talking was new and odd at first, but transitioned to a pleasant exchange between the two of them, which would have never happened under Gakuhou’s roof.

Overall, he was grateful. A month ago, he would’ve gone to bed with a hollow feeling in his chest despite eating a hearty meal, said feeling was absent today. He had brushed his teeth and slid under the covers while replaying the interaction in his head; with the initial awkwardness gone, the dining room became a place of welcomed conversation rather than an enclosed space that he’d prefer to leave at his earliest convenience.

He felt lighter, though he could have been imagining things. Minor inconveniences aside, it had been a good day which hadn’t ended on a bad note; he had prioritized his duties whilst accepting to behave like a normal kid for once. He’d even experienced the soft loudness of normal dinners, which was a small yet very significant change to his day; if he thinks back to the old days, he could swear that his father had been quite talkative over dinner, it must have been nice.

Asano thinks of the soccer matches before he falls asleep and feels warm again. They had laughed and played in the grass like regular schoolboys, chatted under a tree about nothing in particular; most of all, they were all happy. Happy to share such a mundane moment with each other because none of them had been accustomed to it; instead of keeping up the prestigious mantle of the best students in school, they acted like a group of friends.

Sleep comes more easily to him this time around and instead of fighting it off in favor of completing future assignments ahead of time, he stops himself from looking over at his desk and closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

One thing about Gakushuu Asano is that he has a schedule for everything, down to the last hour; sunny days, rainy days, when there’s a power outage, and countless others. Each detail of his day is noted down like a never-failing prophecy; except for one. Although it might not have been written anywhere, it had remained a constant, blank time slot in his agenda that he hardly missed; even without a reminder, he seldom forgot it.

At four o’clock on Wednesdays, he’d stop at a little sushi shop in the corner, squished between the tobacconist and the newsstand; it’s a family business that hasn’t been doing good or bad, it’s managed to keep itself fairly afloat with the passing of generations. Which is fairly surprising, if the ongoing craze for that particular dish category is to be taken into account; the aging woman behind the counter gives him a smile, as if she knew him, he returns it politely.

None of the staff knows who he is, despite the fact that his name has started popping up in several newspaper headlines, and not for the reasons he’d like. He doesn’t particularly enjoy fish, yet he comes here routinely as if he were a regular; he doesn’t order anything yet, walking around to find an empty table to wait for someone.

Three minutes have passed since the designated meeting time, which is slightly worrying. This isn’t exactly a casual meeting after school, considering the people involved; putting aside the classism and discrimination encouraged by the school, his own reputation would surely suffer significant damage if their routinely lunches together were discovered.

His father’s crumbling image is already a pain to deal with, he doesn’t need his migraines to amplify in quantity; to think that he’d have to defend the same man who treated him with constant indifference seemed almost ironic. He wants to gain control of his father through his own strengths, not by feeding senseless gossip to journalists; those were his father’s methods.

Maybe he won’t come, he has no obligation to, Asano has said that more than once. Since his transfer from his previous class, the blond has worried about him more; someone like that in a class full of misfits.. Before seeing him with his new classmates, Asano thought that they were going to eat him alive.

⸻

This level of concern hadn’t been reserved for anyone other than his childhood friend, until his second year of middle school. In the midst of the year, he’d accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation concerning a lower ranking student; two upperclassmen were having their fun degrading him for belonging to the D-class with the risk of being dropped down to the End class. 

Bullying had become a given with how the school operated, thus its control was less than decent. If he were to personally interfere, it would not sit right with his father, who was at fault for spreading a classist system that encouraged verbal harassment and its affiliates; therefore, he attempted to monitor it lightly, to avoid the practice crossing the line between indecency and decency.

Although he couldn’t place any of the Five Virtuosos in charge, – as they were some of the students that benefited most from this system – and he couldn’t interrupt his daily activities to make sure that no action from the students would cause a lawsuit, which worsened the situation. 

He could only hope that by asking his group to keep everyone in check so as to not cause a scene, some things could be avoided. Not only was he wrong, but that line of thinking in itself radiated indifference; as the symbolic leader of the school, he hadn’t done much to acknowledge the serious discrimination that had been taking place.

He was an accomplice of sorts, and that fact hadn’t bothered him at all. He would, at most, tell the victims to wash up with no threats of silence, but a look that made it clear that he was not concerned with their well-being beyond serious injuries; in tandem with that, it led the victims to think that they were to blame for the received discrimination.

He doesn’t know how much his beliefs have changed since then. During lunch, he’d overheard the sparks of a potential fight from the far-end of the hall; Asano had lost his appetite because of the amount of stress he’d endured throughout the day and thus, had gone to have a look in the case that he could prevent it from escalating into a physical altercation.

Wrong again. When he’d stopped just a few feet away from the scene, Gakushuu could faintly envision that one of the boys – the shorter of the three, who was blocked by the other two to prevent his escape – seemed to be bleeding from his nose; this wasn’t good, he went over and coldly reminded them of their school’s prestigious standing.

The idiots let go of their hold over the victim and begin apologizing profusely, but he doesn’t hear them. His focus shifts to the student with disheveled hair, bruised and bleeding; it’s not sympathy that he’s feeling, he’s not mentally flexible enough to have a change of heart over the course of a day, it’s something else.

Those piercing blue eyes glue his feet to the floor. He thinks of when he was about ten years old at the lake, trying to learn how to swim; Gakuhou had taken his eyes off of him for a brief minute, and he couldn’t pull himself up anymore. Back on land, he was throwing up water repeatedly, the quickness of the action spurring from wanting to get it out as soon as possible; in the process, however, his throat felt tight, spiky and in pain.

Similar to this, it feels like the ocean has come back to teach him a lesson; he was an overconfident boy then and now, it’ll take more than a little bit of saltwater for him to understand the weight of his actions. 

He snaps out of his irrational connection to a childhood memory when the boy crouches down to look for his hair tie, breaking eye-contact. He leaves right after telling him that the infirmary’s further ahead, he doesn’t stop to reprimand the aggressors; the blond tries to forget all about that interaction as one, very embarrassing instance.

The following day however, the boy with the blue hair shows up again to thank him. For a second time, he tells himself that he wasn’t staring at two intimidating pools of water yesterday, but a regular pair of blue eyes; he mutters something that reinforces how dedicated he is to his duties as head of student council and that’s the end of that.

Until it happens again. This time, his hair is being pulled and there’s yelling, but that’s not the reason why the moment is ingrained in his memory; since they’ve crossed paths, he learns of how often the boy becomes the target of bullying, from which he’s had to rescue him more than once. He doesn’t say that they target him because he looks too feminine because that isn’t a valid reason, instead he points out that it’s because he doesn’t fight back; he agrees.

He doesn’t fight this time either. When Asano’s saved him one too many times – and when he’s acknowledged the boy’s presence to the point it’d be rude to ignore him – Gakushuu makes the risky choice of letting him stay in the student council clubroom when he feels threatened, provided that he announces his intentions five minutes prior; in that amount of time, he can fabricate believable excuses for everyone else to leave the room.

A little while before that, he gathers up the courage to introduce himself to Asano, as if he doesn’t go through all of the students’ files every now and then; he doesn’t tell him that. Nagisa Shiota, the name doesn’t change much other than the fact that it officially makes them acquaintances; it’s a name commonly used for girls, and he thinks that it might be connected to the long hair, but he doesn’t question it further because it’s none of his business.

If he reacts, he’d be communicating that he’s accepting the fact that they’ve become acquainted with each other; the praise from his schoolmates isn’t important enough for him to even consider that as an available option, so he maintains his standard expression.

Nagisa doesn’t seem to mind it, he occasionally tries to strike up a conversation with him when he’s not busy, he’s considerate and stays in his lane. Gakushuu notices that while he doesn’t have the best scores, English is his strong suit; eventually, he helps Shiota with finding a good studying method, since he can’t attend tutoring classes.

When asked why, Shiota says that his mother doesn’t want him staying out too late, even if it’s for school. It’s the tenth time that she comes up in these kinds of contexts; as excusable as a strict parenting style can be, he’s beginning to question it. He stops when he realizes that it’s none of his business; but he notices the look on Shiota’s face when his hair’s down or when it feels heavy on his back, despite it being kept in a small ponytail.

He might not berate him with questions or hug him to comfort him through whatever it is that he’s going through, he might not look up from his desk sometimes, but he does notice . He explains the corrections thoroughly on purpose, for him to understand how to improve and to take his mind off the thoughts that are tormenting him; and it works, for a while.

Although Shiota could be appointed as his complete opposite, he’s found out, unwillingly, that he likes sushi and doesn’t like acorns; the blond jokingly asks if it’s because of the school’s mascot and Shiota genuinely laughs, instead of nervously forcing himself to, which is new.

Despite his nervousness, the bluenette seems to grow comfortable with him; he teases him and tries to make him laugh when he’s too focused on homework that’s due in more than four weeks, but he doesn’t reprimand him because Shiota feels safe enough to be daring.

He wonders if he allows it all to happen because he feels guilty. But it wouldn’t make any sense, he isn’t guilty of anything except being the best, his father had educated him accordingly and it brought him to success; and yet, someone as kind as Nagisa might be officially labeled as an official stepping stone for the students above him.

The homework that he corrects tries to prevent that, and with every passing grade the blue eyed boy gets, that scenario grows further away; he won’t admit that it makes him let out a sigh of relief, not even to himself, because that would mean that he doesn’t fully believe in his father’s ideology.

The first time he sees Nagisa’s mother in person, she doesn’t look like the sweet woman that her son has described her to be. She’s pulling him by his hair, yelling at such a fast pace that the words start to mix together; and again, the boy doesn’t react. There, in the school parking lot, the president of the student council hides to eavesdrop; this should be completely out of character for him, yet, in spite of that, he’s frozen in place.

Just like the day they first met. He steals another look at the scene to check if he’d seen things, it was normal for parents to get a little violent; he’s lost count of how many times his assumptions had been wrong when it came to Shiota, but if he were to guess, this might have been the tenth time he’d been proven wrong.

Asano thinks a lot about something before doing it. Nothing good comes out of acting brash, only consequences; and yet, in spite of the multiple, rational reasons why he shouldn’t interfere, he does. His limbs, previously stiff and unmoving, bring him out of the shadows; he doesn’t quite know that he’s moved from one place to another until he shouts his classmate’s name to catch the duo’s attention.

Despite that, his face and voice are extremely calm, as if he were calling a friend over to him. Hiromi lets go of his son’s hair almost immediately, her face – that was previously nearly turning purple from rage – becomes fearful as she tries to compose herself.

Nagisa, who’s perhaps twice as confused, whips his head around to see Gakushuu smiling at them both. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? We were supposed to study after school, remember?” The blue haired boy, in the midst of his confusion, realizes that he’s trying to give him a way out; he laughs nervously before answering that his phone had died on the way out to the parking lot and then apologizes for forgetting about their plans for the day.

Asano introduces himself to his classmate’s mother, who instantly recognizes him as the principal’s son. Her face lights up, she says that meeting him is an honor and that she’s grateful that he’s helping her son study more; the blond smiles, saying that Shiota simply needed more guidance and encouragement to flourish.

“You sound just like the principal!” She beames, his smile didn’t falter. That, along with many others, was a rehearsed line learned from how his father handled concerned parents and teachers; he’d perfected it over time, flawless intonation, a serene expression and undeniable sincerity.

He thanks her while an unknown emptiness pokes at his ribcage. It’s accentuated its presence over the years, but he ignores it all the same to focus on the important things; he likes to think that it’ll go away, eventually, if he buries himself in a million different tasks.

Hiromi allows them to study together without a second thought, and Gakushuu assures his mildly confused classmate that his driver can take him home. When his mother’s car leaves the school zone, he falls silent; when they take their seats in the library, Nagisa thanks him again.

Asano doesn’t say anything back as he opens a book that he’s picked from memory. He doesn’t blame Shiota for being pathetic and weak for not being able to stand up for himself for the hundredth time, because he would be in the wrong again; instead, they read in silence until the blue haired boy comes to him to ask about a passage that he doesn’t understand.

Like everything else, it becomes a pattern. With how seasoned of a liar he is, his excuses to keep Nagisa away from his mother never lose their credibility; at one point, Shiota stops dancing around the bush and flat out asks him why he’s being so kind.

Gakushuu has always been kind for his own benefit, but he’s not sure if that applies here; he could say that it’s to avoid bruises and a subsequent scandal, but he has no proof or certainty that some of those scratches come from Hiromi. He doesn’t like to speculate on serious matters that don’t relate to him at all, it could be seen as insensitive and, most of all, a hugely unnecessary waste of his time.

He’s got a feeling that he’s said that before. Maybe, if he stays silent for the next ten seconds, Nagisa will drop it and study like he’s meant to, and if Asano doesn’t count the numerous glances every once in a while, his classmate is, in fact, studying; ignoring a question is rude, but lying to an adult is also rude, therefore, he isn’t displaying favoritism.

⸻

It occurs to Gakushuu that, in the present day, he still hasn’t presented an answer to that question. He attempts to find one – the one he’d thought up a year ago and that he’s deliberately decided not to communicate – to pass the time; just then, something pokes his back.

It’s quick, almost imperceptible, which makes him jump. He whips his head around to see a confused bluenette and sighs, that boy has managed to maintain the odd habit of keeping him on edge; he reprimands his schoolmate for being late.

Nagisa apologizes sincerely, he’d forgotten how far the restaurant was from the route home. They both order something and start talking; differently from their conversations in public, words are exchanged smoothly with no hint of malice.

They update each other on new developments in their life and Asano omits the fact that his father has traded him off like a sacrificial chess piece and that he’s been living with Shiota’s homeroom teacher for the past couple of weeks.

Shiota is somewhat aware of the fact that Gakushuu and his father don’t have the best relationship, but his understanding is abundantly vague thanks to the blond’s cohesive cover-ups and reserved nature. 

Although he doesn’t particularly like the students in 3-E (besides Isogai, he doesn’t hold anything against the guy personally), Nagisa continues to expand on his argument on why they’re good people each time they meet; he doesn’t argue, and perhaps it has to do with the fact that he doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in his father’s principles anymore.

After the incident with his father, Shiota has suggested that they stop being secretive about their friendship, which he has refused, it could end up functioning as more material for the journalists and rumor-lovers and he’d rather not have his father find out about something like this through a newspaper article or a blog post; with that perfectly reasonable refusal, the bluenette has backed down.

“Hey Asano.” Nagisa says whilst stuffing his mouth with sushi, Gakushuu reprimands him by saying how rude it is to speak with food in your mouth. With the unnecessary addition of a dramatic pause, he clears his throat, wipes his lips with a napkin and asks; “Why did you help me, that time?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.” He’s helped him so many times in the past year that it’s hard to keep count, adding ambiguity to his question isn’t helping either of them; Nagisa smiles, he’s changed significantly this year, but he’s still the same Asano, as cold, diligent and dry as ever.

Shiota pouts, albeit playfully. He clarifies that he’s talking about the core event that has kickstarted their unique friendship; the same thing he’d been pondering before the bluenette had arrived, yet struggled to find an answer to.

Gakushuu won’t respond by saying that he was protecting the weak instead of letting them get weaker like the principal would have done, he might not say anything and dodge the question like he’d done for the past year, but his instincts tell him that Nagisa won’t accept silence as an answer this time. 

In hopes of getting a quicker response, the bluenette allows him to generalize by asking him the same question in a less specific manner; he sighs, knowing that he’s been cornered with no clever way out. If he deflects, Nagisa will keep pressing him until he talks, but if he does, he’ll have to show some vulnerability for five seconds, he stares at his powdered green tea with half-closed eyes; deep in thought. ”Because you’re my friend.”

Gakushuu whispers more to himself than anything. He doesn’t even glance over at his schoolmate because he’s essentially betraying everything he’s been taught; it’s the second time he’s used that word to describe his relationship with someone, and it starts to feel like less of a prison sentence and more like a noun.

Without warning, two arms wrap around him and, although he flinches from the sudden contact, he doesn’t push him away. If there were people who deserved the status of friend instead of a close acquaintance, the blue haired boy was among them; Nagisa, holding back tears for something he had wanted to hear for a while, smiles. “You’re my friend too.”

Chapter Text

As the door closes behind him, he hears voices coming from the kitchen; which is weird because Karasuma isn’t the type to invite people over. He tries to make out some words, but all he gets is the notion that the visitor’s tone is considerably louder than his guardian, and said guardian isn’t really paying attention to it; the dominant tone sounds high-pitched, which might suggest a woman, but Karasuma doesn’t seem the type to have lady friends either.

After what seemed like the end of a one-sided conversation, the visitor comes out of the kitchen looking defeated; a woman with flowy blonde hair, blue eyes, and wearing somewhat revealing clothing. He blinks twice, it must be a coincidence that she looks exactly like his private languages teacher from a while ago, maybe he’s imagining things; the woman, likely wanting to look at nothing to mull over her flirtatious failure in peace, spots a boy with strawberry blond hair by the doorway.

Her eyes widen, and he’s torn between greeting her like a normal person would or to continue staring back at her in equal confusion. They keep staring at each other for a long while before he leaves his school bag to the side to free his shoulder; “ WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!? ” She shouts in surprise.

The loudness of the question that echoes her confusion doesn’t surprise him at all, he says that it’s a long story and sits down a bit farther from her instead of standing up and looking like an idiot. They both stare into the nothingness, feeling awkward and embarrassed respectively; neither of them were expecting this.

A little while later, she starts wailing about her failed attempt at wooing her colleague as if he wasn’t in the same room as her a few minutes ago. He watches her with a puzzled expression, if she wanted to be comforted for her romancing fiasco, she was expecting too much from the wrong person; he didn’t have the interest or reason to care about romance as a whole, especially when he had bigger things to worry about.

But acting as a spectator to her overly exaggerated soap opera sounds worse. He thinks back to the first proper conversation that he and Karasuma had over dinner, and remembers how she was described as overdramatic and a bit of a chatterbox; two of the traits that he doesn’t possess, but that he’s learned to handle through his friendship with Ren. Anytime he has to deal with those kinds of people, he reminds himself to thank the womanizer with a questionable haircut in his head.

“..Didn’t work out?” He asks, and although the answer’s obvious most conversation starters are made in a simpler context; since that isn’t applicable, he has to freestyle. She looks at him as if he’s started speaking in a language that even she doesn’t understand; as if she’s forgotten that he was sitting right next to her.

Irina, understanding that this might be an awkward situation for a teenager who probably knows next to nothing about romance, attempts to change the subject. She hopes that he hasn’t neglected his Russian, amongst other languages that she’s taught him, and he quickly replies that he hasn’t; giving them all fifteen minutes of revision every day.

He starts comparing the incompetent languages teacher from the main building to her, which unintentionally turns into full-on complaining about how incapable his teachers are at doing their job; which is a proven fact because he has to do it for them. 

Instead of reprimanding Asano for badmouthing his instructors, something else happens; she starts complaining with him. Considering the prior knowledge on her colorful personality, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does; no one’s ever allowed him to complain like a normal kid without prompting him to think of a solution, because he had other responsibilities.

He can do that now, and it feels odd. He’s exploring a whole other kind of conversation and he occasionally can’t get the words out because the looming sensation of unfamiliarity makes him stutter; she finds a way to get him back on track, finishing his sentences or trying to interpret whatever he’s trying to say, and they make it work.

When Karasuma pokes his head out of the kitchen to identify the source of the noise, he sees his colleague and the kid having an animated conversation; Asano laughs at one point and he cracks a smile. He doesn’t look like the awfully reserved kid from a few weeks ago, with a cold gaze and a concerning obsession with studying; although that hasn’t changed much, he seems to be getting better at being himself.

Irina catches him staring and starts berating him about how he hasn't paid attention to her since she got here, and he ignores her again. Seeing how easily she’s able to switch up makes Gakushuu chuckle, but he tries to muffle it with his hand out of respect; noticing this, Irina playfully nags him about being more considerate towards a woman’s struggles.

Tadaomi warns her not to contaminate the boy with her ideas of struggling when referring to her poor attempts at flirting with her co-worker. She pouts, clinging onto the blond boy who’s an unfortunate witness of this mess as if he’ll console her better than last time; Asano, resigned to his position as an involved bystander, watches quietly.

The two keep arguing, but they’re not mad at each other. This strikes Gakushuu as odd, because generally, when people yell, it means they’re angry; although he’s mostly understood miss Jelavić and Karasuma’s dynamic, some reactions are hard to follow. 

Sharing a room with these two is like a fever dream, but it’s objectively better than his father’s uninterrupted silence. He glances up at the blond woman that continues holding him close, thinking that it feels oddly familiar; the embrace isn’t too tight, despite the animated discussion that’s taking place, she’s surprisingly gentle.

He thinks of pulling away to get rid of those thoughts, but just then, she looks down at him with a smile. “Living with this stupid man must be exhausting..” she says, words full of sarcasm, and he tries not to acknowledge the fact that her chest feels like one big pillow. 

“I won’t be saying anything without a lawyer present.” Asano says in his kinda-friendly-council-president voice, wanting to keep the playful banter going. Karasuma says that he gave a very good answer, and pride starts to find its way back to him after weeks of absence; but it’s not quite there yet.

Through laughter and loud voices, Gakushuu seems to have fallen asleep. He doesn’t know when or even how he’s allowed himself to temporarily lose consciousness in the company of two strangers; even stranger is how he seems to have opened his eyes in the guest bedroom where he has spent his afternoons and nights.

Half-awake, the boy wonders if he’d been carried, but then thinks of how inconvenient that would be for his guardian and his guest. Little boys get carried over to bed, the sleepy ones or the ones that pretend to be asleep to be brought back inside in their parents’ arms; he most likely did the same thing, before the incident that tore everything apart.

His father’s cram school. The mere thought quickens his breathing and wakes him right up; he rubs his eyes and goes to his desk; he opens the history book, then the notes that he had made earlier on in the day and begins making a rough draft of his improved explanation; the pen feels loose in his blurry vision, but he continues writing.

It’ll go away, he thinks as he scribbles the words down. Focus. With each stroke, his desperation to get rid of the thought grows; because from there, a plethora will be born into his mind and that can’t happen, he’s postponed that terrible scenario for years by busying himself, never leaving room for free time, for his thoughts to wander in the wrong direction.

He has to get used to the brightness of the desk lamp, but upon thinking that he might get lost in his head when he least expects it, he presses on. He’s done two pages when the clock points to the time being two in the morning; slower than his usual rhythm, but it’s excusable given that he’d woken up in the middle of the night.

A tired Irina opens the bedroom door, he doesn’t look up. She notices him and realizes that this guest room’s occupied; with the slowness of someone who had just started sobering up, she squints her eyes at him. “Did you sleep at all?” She has to call out his name three times before she can get an answer, he looks like he’s trying very hard to keep his eyes open; noticeably disturbed, the woman tries coaxing him into getting back into bed.

“I have school in a few hours.” Asano replies, yawning in the midst of his sentence. Irina says that’s six hours away, he can still take a nap before then, but he seems hellbent on staying awake. The blonde woman, concerned for the boy, argues that the lack of sleep will affect his performance in class; when she says that, he actually holds eye contact with her.

He can’t afford to slip up this close to the end of the school year, for his sake and everyone else’s. She reassures him that she’ll set a second alarm and even get Tadaomi to wake him up if that doesn’t work; the suggestion’s embarrassing enough that he quickly closes up his backpack with the day’s books and such, all in an orderly manner.

He hastily curls up into bed, relaxing his muscles and letting himself snooze for a couple of hours after he’s distracted himself enough to avoid having any nightmares again. Irina gently closes the door as she watches him drift off, then goes to the couch to sleep some more since her stubborn host won’t let her sleep with him.

Chapter Text

Kidnappings aren’t uncommon; with the most common targets being children who come from rich or well-off families. There’s a multitude of reasons for why they were targeted in particular; money, because of a personal grudge against those who were more wealthy, attention seeking from the media, amongst other things.

When Asano is cornered by a group of college dropouts after piano lessons, his first instinct is to reason with them, not to forcefully put them in their place like the principal would have done. When that doesn’t work, he gets ready to defend himself, but before he can do anything, he’s knocked out from behind; and everything fades to black.

When he awakens, disoriented and with a probable concussion, he can hardly make out the ensemble of voices yelling at him for one reason or another. He can’t recognize where he’s been brought to either, which would be extremely rare because he’s been known to have scarily good photographic memory; he attributes his sudden gap in geographical knowledge to the blow that he took to the head earlier.

He tries to speak but everything feels muffled, as if it was happening in another room entirely. Someone grabs his face with such aggression that he’s amazed at how his cheekbones don’t feel crushed yet; they’re ordering him to do something and, despite the partial deafness caused by his injury, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher the words; he looks at the amateurs, almost disappointedly, and answers them when they let go of his face.

“You’re wasting your time.” It’s coherent enough that some of them feel somewhat offended. By how unimpressed and devoid of any fear his expression is, they can easily figure out that it’s not his first rodeo; instead of listening to the experienced captive and doing something with their lives like enrolling in school again, they call his father.

Surprisingly, the man actually picks up the phone. It’s not that hard to find people’s house numbers after a bit of searching, at least they had done their homework; the unsurprising but typical reason for why he would pick up a call coming from the house phone was not to discuss the fact that his only son was being held for ransom, but to give him a reminder.

“I trust that you can handle this yourself, Asano.” And the line goes dead. He didn’t expect much from the man who placed him under someone else’s roof for the sake of proving his righteousness over a meaningless argument; and didn’t bother calling since. 

Even though Asano had gone the extra mile and warned his kidnappers that the classic hostage situation wouldn’t play out like it usually did, he’s kicked in the ribs so hard that the chair he’s tied to falls over. There’s more screaming, but his mind can only focus on his father’s words; the first time he hears his voice after weeks and weeks of silence, is to be reminded of his spectacular independence.

If he cared enough, Gakushuu could have twisted the sentence to mean that Gakuhou thought he was capable enough to get himself out of this situation. But he doesn’t, he takes the message without sugar coating it with empty hopes or hidden praise; he’s alone in this.

He has been for some time now, ever since that funeral and the principal’s descent into a grief-stricken ideology. The realization is spat out after a foot’s pressed to the side of his head, daring to move ever so slightly to see him flinch; it’s here, in the epitome of patheticness, that Gakushuu Asano considers the idea of dying.

He’s not actively suicidal, let that be clear, but he has thought about it more than once. A final act of defiance, and it couldn’t be considered a suicide if he was beaten to death by his kidnappers; the school would hold a fancy ceremony for their best student, the newspapers would have a whole new tragedy to milk and the blame would fall on his father.

He wonders if Gakuhou, the man who had raised him for fifteen years, would feel anything. He would certainly lie to the press about the circumstances, saying that he had done everything in his power to save his child; and the phone used for the call was a burner phone, which meant that no audio evidence could be used to oppose that claim.

The masses wouldn’t believe a word he said anyway, with the current controversy, sympathy would be very hard to come by. Although not impossible, Gakuhou had connections that might pull some strings for him to escape the scandal with his reputation still relatively intact; he’s terrifyingly smart, hence why he would find several legal loopholes to justify his own actions in around ten minutes.

Then, when the affair would calm down, he would work himself to death. Gakushuu’s death, which would likely be related to gang violence, would also fall under the reason why it’s extremely important to raise the youth – our future – to be strong and overpower the weak; another excuse, another victim, another motivation.

And soon, Gakuhou would forget that he ever had a son to begin with, just like there was no longer a ring on his finger. Things would go back to normal eventually, and maybe people would come to his grave, once or twice, to pay their respects; once a student with a bright future, Asano wouldn’t be mourned by anyone in his own family.

The director’s already in mourning, there’s no room for two. The worst kind of pathetic is when even dying couldn’t prove a point, which had stopped the teen from doing anything stupid; with a little bit of self-reflection with no overexaggerated conclusions, the impulses would go away and he would go back to being his junior high school’s golden boy.

His shirt’s collar is pulled to make him face one of his attackers; a scrawny, smelly man in his late teens with crooked teeth that remind him of Natsuhiko. Before he can suggest inserting mouthwash in his daily routine, Asano receives a punch to the face that makes his nose bleed; it doesn’t feel broken though, which eliminates the hassle of straightening it.

He’s had his deep and depressing monologue, now he has to worry about surviving this without too many broken bones. As previously stated, he isn’t new to the whole kidnapping thing; at first, he’d been enrolled in judo classes with the pretense of self-defense in those situations. But those lessons quickly turned into the chairman molding his son into a strong fighter who could face the weak and guide them; someone who could rise above the ordinary and be more than extraordinary.

Owning a black belt in judo, Gakuhou took on the mantle of mentor in this aspect. He would make his son train day and night, sometimes alone; in those times, the older Asano would hardly look at him. He would be beaten and mocked until he got the positions right; which eventually made him a respectable practitioner of martial arts.

Gakushuu doesn’t like fighting when he can help it, especially because it’s unbecoming of the head of the school council. But he doesn’t really have a choice at the moment, the notion is reinforced by the same young adult who’s slowly passing the blade of a pocket knife throughout his cheek. It stings, but it’ll pass; he’s never liked delinquency, much less fighting fire with fire, his actions would be justified though. 

Therefore, he closes his eyes and thinks of the first ever martial arts lessons with his dad. The ones where he was still somewhat there, when he could at least pretend that he wasn’t completely falling apart despite the foreign coldness that enveloped him; the ones where he would pretend that it was all a game that they could both play together if the clueless boy followed the rules.

When things were fine.

When the world was colorful.

The calm before the storm.

There’s already blood left and right when he snaps back into the present, with his group of assaulters lying on the ground. One of them, conscious and kneeling in front of him, rightfully fears for his life, his eyes look like they’re about to pop out from how much they're shaking; Asano doesn’t understand until he looks down and sees the blood on his hands and his bloodstained school bag.

A wave of disgust and denial overwhelms him. He’s practiced the ways of his father, he’s caused other people to have the same helpless expression when looking up at him; he triumphed over the weak like Gakuhou had so many times. The faces of terrified teachers, students and parents are all coming back to him now; the fear that he, himself felt when his father reinforced his control over him and everyone else, with a titular, nightmarish glare that he’s probably imitating right now without trying to. It comes naturally.

It runs in the family . Gakushuu starts hyperventilating, the thought of possibly becoming like Gakuhou sickens him to the very core, to the point that half of his current thoughts are to rip his own eyes out so he doesn’t have to see that scared man anymore; the guilt soon follows, and the sight of it makes him dizzy, he takes a few, slow steps back before full-on running out of there.

No, he’s not like that. He’s kind and inspiring and contrary to any foul practice such as poisoning the rivaling class’ food during the festival; he leads with conviction and encouragement, he helps his classmates with schoolwork, all this while he attends too many extracurriculars to count but he doesn’t complain.

He’s not someone who will get his hands dirty and ignore his morals because it’s the easier route or because it will bring people into submission faster. He doesn’t have a suffocating gaze that will suck the life out of the receiver and scar them mentally; he doesn’t manipulate people until they become mindless zombies that can’t have a single thought of their own.

He’s not like that and yet, he runs like a liar. He runs with stained clothes that bear the sign of self-betrayal and guilt that won’t let him forget that bastard’s terrified face; the blood of a generational curse falls to the ground and follows him like hellmade chains that will drag him down to the principal’s level.

All these realizations grouped together cause him to hunch over and throw up his sins. He limps. Looking up, he comes to the conclusion that he’s extremely disoriented, to the point that he doesn’t even know where he is; it might be the blurriness of his vision or the overwhelming amount of emotion that has basically freezed up his ability to think clearly, whichever it is, he’s only able to infer that he is, undoubtedly, lost in an unfamiliar alley.

Lost in the world, lost in himself, lost in someone else’s pain. He sits with his back to a building with his hands wrapped around his knees in a sort of desperate hug like he’s done a million times before; when he couldn’t cry in his parents’ arms because the house was as empty as a new one, when he had to force himself to keep his composure under the pressure and threats and the loss of something that hadn’t been there for a long time.

For once, he forgets to pull himself together amongst everything else, and tears start terrorizing his cheeks by drawing straight lines across soft skin. There’s a transition from sobbing to screaming that he can’t identify very well; Gakushuu sits there, dirty and unbearably sad for a million reasons that are connected to one singular event that he refuses to acknowledge until he’s old and hooked up to life support.

Then, a thought, after the thousands of them have passed; he isn’t going home to an empty living room. He’s coming home to someone who looks him in the eye when he talks, who doesn’t want to dismiss his presence by not saying goodmorning or goodnight; he’s going home to someone who interrupts his intense study sessions to offer him sliced up fruits.

He can’t show up after this, not ever. Not when he’s broken on a nameless street’s corner because he’s done the one thing he swore to never do; not when he has the monstrous gaze of someone who has ruined thousands of lives.

The natural answer would be not going anywhere, but that would do more harm than good. At present, Karasuma is responsible for his well-being; if anything happens, the older Asano will automatically declare himself as the winner of their bet and his temporary guardian will be forced to bear the badge of failure.

Or maybe it’s not as big of a deal as he makes it out to be. Maybe Karasuma sees him as a pawn too, with the only difference being that he pities him; maybe he’ll go back to his duties and forget all about him because it wasn’t a time in his life that was even worthy of being mentioned; and he’ll go back to being class A’s star player and the director’s favorite chess piece.

This wouldn’t have happened to the principal’s favorite student. The cause of all of this, the one who was treated like a son by a teacher that wouldn’t have been recognized by his former students in the present; if he were still here, none of this would’ve happened.

To stop that train of thought from going any further, Gakushuu starts to rip his hair out. It’s fast, frantic and the pain worsens with each aggressive motion; if he’d helped somehow, if he wasn’t as desperate for his father’s affection as he is, he wouldn’t be breaking down in a random alleyway.

The good thing is that the bloodstained uniform and the unkempt hair are almost an opposite to his usual perfect image, which makes him less recognizable. No one’s going to see one of Japan’s best junior high students when they look at him.

They’ll see a crying boy who’s nearly reached his breaking point after getting beat up, which means that they’ll leave him alone. He can scream and cry all he wants because he’s not the perfect fifteen-year-old boy that he’s worked hard to be; right now, he’s a hurt little boy who deeply misses his father.

But he can’t be that scared kid for too long, he’ll start to actually think about everything that’s happened until now instead of just going forward. To avoid that, he stops crying on command, a skill that’s come in handy more than he would like to admit; and shakily, through trial and error, gets back on his feet and tries to remember the way back.