loveless, set three.
...where is the fic where Kismai are diner boys, serving food on skates? It would be a disco diner, owned by Koyama. Koi no ABO would play from the jukebox incessantly.
This was started just before Yokoo's birthday and has been sitting around for a long time. 8D I need to clear out a lot of my half-baked stuff. *slowly going through the docs*
SO. The last remaining Ebikis pair pic for Loveless AU. ♥ And fic, probably rated a high PG. :D I basically got heaps self-indulgent and wrote my favourites that I never write, just because. (I said one day I'd do Yokoo Iida where they are still friends and Iida isn't dead. xD So here it is. Sort of.)
A/N: *lmao* yokoo's face. 8D they both look on the young side relative to the others, but iida pics are all kind of old... maa. yokoo's ears are usually sitting straight up like :D! or >:\ and iida's a long-haired kitty, thanks to that interview where it was mentioned they actually had to cut his hair when he joined JE instead of growing it out. his ears and tail should (but don't) have daily brushing to keep his coat looking good, much to yokoo's dismay. :D
*
They're an odd pair more than anything.
Iida arrives at the Seven Voices Academy in a well-worn judo gi, a duffel bag on his shoulder; clearly low maintenance where by contrast the room is well-appointed. Though it doesn't show on his face, he hasn't felt anything but out of place since passing through the school gates.
He looks around slowly, hair fanning in bits across his shoulders. For want of a trim, it's pulled back loosely and matches the state of his ears and tail - all honey-tanbark brown and unfamiliar with combs. Iida's eyes are carefully impassive, and neither do his other features show particular animation.
Presently, Julie comes back in through the door trailed by Iida's fighter (or so she had said she'd fetch). His name is Yokoo, apparently, the shortest fifteen-year-old in the Academy. Yokoo, the self-proclaimed budding fashionista. Yokoo, with his sharp eyes and poison tongue, and absolutely no filter between his mind and his mouth.
"Don't you know what a hairbrush is?" he says outright, lip curled to Julie's horror.
But Iida only smiles, bowing slightly. Ironically appropriate: "Please teach me..."
*
"We get a room to ourselves," Yokoo explains as they walk. "Meals are in the dining hall that's next to the common room. I'll show you where later."
"Do you mind if I have a shower?" Iida asks, and Yokoo quirks a brow over his shoulder. Iida's a lot more soft-spoken than most people at Seven Voices (Yokoo's friends especially), but Yokoo can hear him fine. "My mother brought me here from the dojo, so..."
"I'm hardly going to stop you if, y'know, you don't want to smell like a sumo trainee," Yokoo says, and observes it again: that quirked half-smile. It's weird. They've just met and, bond pair or not, can't be close enough for Iida not to find Yokoo's jibes offensive. And yet the other says nothing.
Sacrifices are the ones who are supposed to give the orders and Yokoo wonders briefly if he got a defective one, but shelves that thought when they get to their dorm room. Iida takes two steps in and looks around for a few silent seconds, sighting first the bathroom, then a bed, another bed, and a wardrobe. Then he walks over and shakes the contents of his duffel out onto the mattress that clearly isn't Yokoo's.
Yokoo crosses his arms, watching.
Iida considers his small pile of belongings for a moment, then picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants and a small, plastic soap container. Then heads to the bathroom.
"...shampoo?" Yokoo prompts, unable to bring himself to ask anything about underwear.
Iida turns around. He looks at Yokoo, then at the bar of soap in his hand. "...I just use this?"
Yokoo makes a noise of exasperation. "Go in and get undressed," he says, pointing to the bathroom. "I'll fix you."
Iida hesitates a moment, but again says nothing more than "Okay," as he disappears, leaving the door unlocked.
Purposeful, Yokoo fetches a toiletries bag from his bedside shelf. It's got five bottles of hair product in it, plus soap in a pump, a facial cleanser, toner, comb, moisturiser...
*
The bathroom is spotless. Nothing like the mold farm Iida shared with his two brothers back home; he's never seen something belonging to a boy look so clean. It almost feels intrusive to strip off his judo gi and, for lack of anything else to do without instruction, sit in the empty bath.
Not only are the tiles still white down to the grout, but the bathroom doesn't actually have anything in it either. Except a toothbrush clipped up by the sink.
"I don't leave things in here," Yokoo says, answering Iida's unasked question as he comes through the door. "They get all gross and make everything annoying to clean."
"Okay." Iida supposes that makes sense.
"Start up the shower."
*
Their relationship feels strangely backward, and Yokoo doesn't know why.
Or rather, he does: Iida's their sacrifice, and Yokoo's his fighter, but Yokoo's older and Iida's been taking orders without complaint. Yokoo just doesn't want to admit that the skew might be at least partly his own fault, and wishes instead that Iida weren't such an apparent pushover.
Especially when he sticks his head under the cold water that has yet to warm up, without hesitation. If he gets sick...
Yokoo can't help but wonder aloud, watching him: "Do you even seriously know why you're here?"
Iida doesn't look up, eyes screwed shut against the spray, but- "I was meant for you." -his brevity stops Yokoo dead.
"...do you really believe that?" Yokoo asks.
Iida shuts off the water before answering, parting sodden hair from his eyes. "...Yokoo-san doesn't really seem the type to do what anybody says, if he doesn't want to."
A little unsure how to respond to that oblique reply, Yokoo says, "Well maybe it's only because we've just met, but you don't seem the type to force a guy to do something he doesn't want to, either."
And Iida nods, as if just that simply the conversation's over.
*
It will turn out to be true enough. Iida won't be surprised either, given the company he'll find Yokoo to keep: fighters Fujigaya, Kawai and Koyama; sacrifices Goseki and Shigeaki. A lot of insults fly around that group, but Yokoo turns a deaf ear on anything he doesn't want to hear, and Iida takes it all with a pinch of salt and good-natured laughter.
*
Their name is Weightless.
Yokoo first sees it high across Iida's shoulders while gathering up his hair for shampoo. Reaching out to touch, tracing the letters, Yokoo feels the name resonate with his own in a way he had thought improbable. "Weightless..." he reads, with an innate comprehension of the word that would otherwise be so foreign.
"Immeasurable," Iida says, head bowed.
And Yokoo cracks a smile. "I like that."
Iida nods then stills, eyes closing as Yokoo brushes over their name again and again under the pretense of soap, shampoo, conditioner, water...
Once or twice, he cards his fingers through Iida's knotted hair only to find a red thread tangled through his hands.
*
It had always been the threads driving Yokoo crazy. He had always been able to see them, never choosing not to despite how impatient they'd made him.
He'd always been able to see Fujigaya and Goseki's winding and winding, never knotting. Theirs had been connected before Yokoo even knew them; Kawai and Tsukada's, too, all silk and stronger than piano wire. And when the two pairs had sparred, often and intensely, Yokoo had only been able to sit on the sidelines wondering when when he'd ever get a turn to kick ass.
His own thread had trailed into the distance, its end imperceptible.
*
"This is a mirror," Yokoo says by way of introduction, pressing on Iida's shoulders to make the other sit on his bed across from the article in question.
Iida's towel is now a turban on his head, and he has his pajama bottoms on but not much else. "...I feel silly."
"Just leave it on 'til the Hair Repair can be rinsed out," Yokoo says. "Tomorrow I'll go buy some proper hair scissors, and then we can deal with the fact you've clearly never heard of layers in your life."
"I know what layers are," Iida says, in what is possibly his most objectionable voice since arriving at the Academy. "I've just never had them before."
"Don't think that's not the bigger crime," Yokoo says sternly, and is surprised when Iida laughs.
*
It takes three days for Iida to become, in Yokoo's words, 'finally presentable', his bangs short enough to not fall in his eyes, layered like Yokoo promised, the rest of his hair no longer needing to be tied back. In the mirror, his tail swishes back and forth slowly, its long fur trimmed, brushed out and looking smooth for the first time in years.
Yokoo cards his fingers through Iida's tail one last time, from top to tip; it curls almost shyly against his palm, but Iida's smiling, ears at ease, and Yokoo grins. "We should send a picture to your mother. She wouldn't believe it."
"...thank you," Iida says. "I guess."
"You're welcome." Satisfied with his handiwork, Yokoo snaps Iida's old hair elastic around his wrist to find a home among the half-dozen bracelets and bangles already there.
He's defeated by Iida's wardrobe, though - or the small pile of clothes that Iida seems to think will suffice as such: one ratty black jacket, a couple of pairs of jeans, and a collection of oversized tees in various patterns or blocks of colour and decorated with terrible slogans.
Or, Yokoo is quite sure they would be terrible if he could read them all. He can read one: LOSER, in bold white print on black.
"Clothes should be layered too, you know," he says with a frown.
Iida looks surprised. "What for?"
*
Some days later, after Iida's basic training is done, it's Yokoo who challenges Fujigaya to a practice match. Accepted, of course.
Weightless, Fujigaya laughs. "It's not that easy. Feel the true weight of a bond. Capture!
Goseki smiles his approval at Fujigaya's words as shackles clamp around Iida's wrists, rattling. Iida regards them almost curiously, turning his hands over and back.
"Does it hurt?" Yokoo asks, concerned but not really.
"...a little?" Iida supposes. Strangely, the pressure is more in his heart.
"It's not the worst," Fujigaya sniffs. "I was being nice."
"Sure you were," Yokoo rolls his eyes. Wither and die. Ancient heat burns no more. Expire!
"Hit them hard," Goseki orders, unperturbed as Yokoo's restrictions bind his eyes and wrench his arms behind his back. They're only bandages. He's used to worse.
"Understood," Fujigaya grins. Gravity double! Triple, quadruple, quintuple!
Deflect! Return! Invert! Yokoo calls in defense. It works only once, Iida staggering slightly as the shackles pull him toward the ground. "Order me, Kyohei!" Yokoo snaps, looking back.
"You'd know how to fight like this better than me," Iida says.
"Auto?" Fujigaya scoffs across the arena. Goseki smiles under his restriction. "Watta's never beaten me with us both fighting on Auto, let alone him Auto and us Ruthless."
"No, not Auto," Iida says. Ignoring Fujigaya, he looks Yokoo in the eye. "We'll win this your way."
Yokoo frowns. "I'm not used to fighting with a sacrifice," he says in no uncertain terms. "My style is offensive."
Iida shrugs and straightens, ignoring the weight of Ruthless' multiple restrictions at his wrists. "It's okay." A half-smile quirks his mouth. "If it's how we were meant to be."
"Sounds cute," Goseki observes, to Fujigaya's chuckle. "Kill them."
Feel the pain of your separate states, Fujigaya casts immediately. Wallow in the weakness of your shallow bonds.
Yokoo turns back to the arena, ignoring the crackle of uncountered electricity up the steel shackles behind him and choosing not to hear Iida's grunt of pain. Burn in your complacent pride, he glares instead. You fan the flames of your own demise.
A cough from Goseki turns Fujigaya's head. He's doused in dark oil, hair slick and dangling limp over the bandages around his eyes. Fujigaya reaches out. "Gocchi?"
"End it," Goseki commands, ever calm. "You know how."
"I do," Fujigaya promises, "I will," and presses his lips to Goseki's oil-slicked own.
Ignite, Yokoo casts.
Fujigaya counters immediately, Void, stepping back and leaving cold vacuum in his wake. Goseki's chest heaves just once before he stills, deprived of air. Fujigaya turns back to Yokoo, imperious. No fuel, no fire. Your attack is ineffective.
Yokoo gives a thin smile. "How long's he got, Taisuke? I'll burn him if you drop your guard."
"As if I don't know," Fujigaya narrows his eyes. "It's longer than Iida's got undefended."
Yokoo scowls. He's none of your business.
"Except for how he is?" Fujigaya smiles coldly.
Behind Yokoo Iida kneels, head bowed and wrists weighed down. Electricity crackles through his binds intermittently, making spasming fists of his hands, and there are energy burns up his forearms where the restrictions have chaffed his skin raw.
Intensify, Fujigaya casts, and the electricity flares back to life. Iida's jaw clenches. Amplify.
Dampen, Yokoo calls a crude defence. Dampen, diminish!
Build, boost, energy gather, surround-
Defend, divert! Dispel!
Execute.
With a final snap of electricity, Iida crumples and lies still.
"Kyohei?" Yokoo demands, handing Ruthless the win as his battle system disengages.
Goseki takes a deep breath as his restrictions vanish. He smiles at Fujigaya, I'm alright, and Well fought, rotating his wrists a little to get his circulation back.
Iida's still breathing of course, though shallowly. Under Yokoo's fingers, his pulse slowly steadies and eases the strange weight in Yokoo's stomach. (This partner thing, he feels, might be more trouble than it seems to be worth so far...)
"He'll be alright, Watta," Fujigaya says, walking over with his arm protectively around Goseki's shoulders. "It's never fun to lose, but he'll wake up in a bit. Probably not even that long; he's pretty tough. I had to pile the restrictions on for them to be effective."
"That's not the problem," Yokoo says, frowning. He looks from Fujigaya to Goseki and back again. "That fight was basically you on Auto versus us as Weightless. Gocchi did nothing and we still lost."
"No, no," Goseki smiles, "Iida-kun wasn't doing anything either. We didn't play too hard since it was your first time as a unit and your connection's still weak."
"You'll learn how to exploit it better with practice," Fujigaya adds, making Yokoo's eyes narrow at the patronising tone. (Fujigaya grins, fully aware of it.) "But for now 'til Iida wakes up, learn some decent defence with me? Tsuka-chan said he wants to challenge you guys tomorrow, and hell if I'm giving Fumito another easy win."
Yokoo rolls his eyes. "It's all about you and them." But then he glances back down at Iida, and the knot in his brow that's only now starting to ease in his sleep, and remembers the energy burns on his wrists, gone now but still visible to his mind's eye. Yokoo figures he owes it to Weightless to at least try.
*
By the time Fujigaya's through with Yokoo's 'training', Yokoo knows not only the best counters to the spells Fearless favours, but also a few basic combat stances and how to avoid a roundhouse kick. In theory.
In practice, Yokoo is built like a twig, and Tsukada is the tank type who likes throwing punches as much as wordspells. There is no way, Fujigaya reckons, that Kawai won't get Tsukada hitting physical early. And he also reckons there is no way Yokoo can actually win if that happens, but at least he can maybe duck and weave a bit and keep Tsukada's attention off of Iida. And with any luck, Kawai will forget about the battle and start laughing hard enough to be an easy target for a quick explosion or two.
"I declare a battle by wordspell!" Kawai shouts.
"Fearless challenges Weightless!" Tsukada calls.
"What are you two so loud for?" Yokoo grins. "We aren't deaf."
"Battle accepted," Iida says. And tilts his head curiously as Tsukada steps up some metres in front of Kawai and drops into a loose combat crouch. "...what's he doing?" he asks, dropping his voice and leaning in behind Yokoo's shoulder.
Yokoo snerks. "Tsuka-chan's a fighter. Literally."
"Oh." Iida's eyes seem to light up. "...I can take him."
Yokoo gives a sidelong glance. "Seriously?"
Iida smiles. "Probably."
Yokoo snorts. "He's kind of seasoned at this, but be my guest. Better you get beat up than me."
"Sacrifices take the damage after all," Iida says as he steps past. Across the way, Tsukada grins when their eyes meet and Iida gives a formal bow.
"Oi, Watta!" Kawai yells around the two. "What's this?"
"What is this?" Fujigaya shouts from the sidelines over Goseki's laughter. "After all that yesterday, you're just going to let him fight undefended again?"
"Shut it, Taipi," Yokoo says, crossing his arms. "I trust him more than I need you telling me what to do."
*
Sometimes, Yokoo will still say things like, "Kyon, I'm tired. Carry me back," despite how he's no longer fifteen years old and five-foot-nothing. And Iida will do it, with a piggyback or princess-carry in the face of Fujigaya's laughter.
Yokoo will blow a raspberry, but Iida will smile. He doesn't mind. They're Weightless, after all, and Yokoo isn't what he'd call a burden.
*
*
Also fixed up Sleepless while I was at it. xD Finally. *lazy* (Ahaha~ only Rachel will probably be able to tell what i've changed, but whatever. |D)
Sometime after Yokoo celebrates his eighteenth birthday and Iida his sixteenth, a cowboy comes to town. The new guy has short-cropped hair and a soccer tan, causing a stir because nobody sees him in any of their academic classes, but then there he is after school, battle-training with the rest of the fighters like he hasn't just appeared out of nowhere.
Fujigaya doesn't like him.
"He can't be older than Ii-chan," he complains to Yokoo on their way to training, the third day after the new guy's arrival. "Seriously, are they letting him not board here or something? Go to school someplace else?"
"He boards though," Yokoo says. "He's the one who's been leaving the instant ramen cups out in the common room past midnight." (Yokoo doesn't like him much, either.)
Fujigaya frowns. "But that makes no sense."
Yokoo rolls his eyes. "So we'll ask him about it."
*
Kitayama Hiromitsu just ends up laughing and laughing. "No, no, I study. At university."
Fujigaya and Yokoo stare. For starters, Kitayama doesn't look like a college student. Secondly, if he is, then he's joined Seven Voices about a half-decade too late by regular standards.
"Eh? What's the matter?" Dark ears standing straight up, Totsuka joins their group. "Hiromitsu? Taisuke?"
"They thought I was a middle-schooler!" Kitayama wails, thoroughly amused.
"Tottsu?" Fujigaya blinks. "You're here?"
"I'm here?" Totsuka smiles, eyes deliberately wide.
"Stop that," Fujigaya says, "you know it makes me feel stupid. This is battle training, you don't usually-"
"-you're his sacrifice!" Yokoo accuses, having traced the way the pair's red thread loops and twists around and eventually comes together in the middle. And Kitayama laughs all over again.
"I am~" Totsuka smiles, and this time his eyes disappear.
*
"Why do you wear these?" Kitayama asks later, lying back with an arm tucked behind his head. His bed is across the room from Totsuka's, but neither of them are particularly tidy or my-place-vs-your-place people. One of Totsuka's ears, the white-tipped one, is in Kitayama's hands and he flicks at the hairpin attached to it, eyes across the room on Totsuka's back. "Must be annoying to put in properly every day."
Totsuka shrugs, looking for a decently clean pajama top. "It's easier."
Kitayama raises a brow. "Than...?"
"Mm~" Totsuka hums, by way of saying, well, it's okay you don't know since you weren't here: "Judgement."
Both Kitayama's brows raise. "From the pairs?"
"You've seen it," Totsuka says. "I only did theory classes with them since a sacrifice by himself isn't worth much in battle, but the pair thing's strong. You for me, you know? Me for you, and that's it." He glances over his shoulder. Though his mouth curves up, the expression isn't too happy. "I got impatient. They look down on that kind of thing."
Kitayama gives a lopsided smile. "I'm sorry I made you wait?"
"But you're not, are you?" Totsuka chuckles. "And you didn't anyway. I chose, see." He finds a hoodie that doesn't match with his pants, but is acceptable enough for the nighttime. "Goseki-kun knows. Taipi and Fumito and Tsuka-chan, too, and they don't care. But I was glad you were the same by the time you finally got here." He struggles a bit to get his head out of his hood that's inside out, and finally pops through with an expression of relief that has less to do with their conversation than seeing freedom again. "I mean, I was glad you didn't still have your ears, too."
Struck with a sudden affection, Kitayama tosses the ear at Totsuka's head. "Well, I didn't know what I was supposed to be waiting for, but holding back seems a bit stupid if you can have whoever you want in the meantime, right?"
Totsuka grins, toeing off his socks. "I could've had anyone? Should I be disappointed I'm stuck with you now?"
With a look of mock-condescension, Kitayama tsks. "You're supposed to say you only ever wanted me~ in your deepest heart of hearts."
"I only ever wanted you~" Totsuka repeats, smile turning shadowed, "in my deepest heart of hearts."
"Want me now?" Kitayama asks.
"I guess I wouldn't mind." Crossing the room, Totsuka could afford to look sexier in his baggy pyjamas, but Kitayama doesn't care much.
"You wouldn't mind? That hurts." He reaches out a hand that Totsuka takes with affected daintiness. "Takizawa warned me about that attitude, you know. Told me all about you when he picked me up."
"Tackey-sensei picked you up?" Totsuka asks, as he settles in to straddle Kitayama's lap. "Have you told Taipi that? Because I recommend you don't."
Kitayama makes a face. "Can we not talk about that unibang right now?"
With an agreeable hum, Totsuka winds his fingers through Kitayama's hair, smiling again as he rocks his hips down and Kitayama gives a murmur of approval.
"Take this back off," Kitayama says, tugging at the bottom of Totsuka's hoodie. "What a bother."
Totsuka lets him pull the top over his head, raising his arms. "Well, if I'd known you wanted sex I wouldn't have put it on in the first place. It's your fault for deciding so late."
"It's called going with the flow," Kitayama tells him, then says nothing for a while, his mind otherwise occupied taking in Totsuka's dark eyes and high cheeks, tracing down his neck to the little freckle off-centre by the hollow of his throat, and the way their name starts where his right collarbone ends, disappearing over the curve of his shoulder...
Totsuka smiles, indulging the attention for a little while before pointedly shifting his hips again.
"Impatient~" Kitayama drawls.
"Well." Grinning, Totsuka tugs off Kitayama's tee in return. "A wise man once told me waiting's overrated." And only laughs at all of Kitayama's grumbly noises.
*
Their next morning starts well, with Totsuka shoving Kitayama out of bed and hunkering back down under the blankets by himself.
"What the hell," Kitayama grunts blearily from the floor (the very cold floor), unable to tell which of his aches are from the impact versus last night's discovery that Totsuka's constantly exaggerated facial expressions are actually just an outlet for too much energy under the surface. "What was that for."
In reply, Kitayama's cellphone gets tossed over the side after him, closely followed by its battery.
"Ah, shit..." Kitayama rubs at his eyes. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"It rang ten times!" Totsuka has never usually been anti-mornings, but sharing a room with Kitayama is fast changing that. "Your snooze lasts nine minutes. Three days so far, times ten times ringing times nine minutes each is ninety minutes a day times three days, which is actually a total of four and a half hours of intermittent..."
He peeks out from under the covers, reproachful. "You know, that music's so bad I don't even know the genre."
"I figured it'd wake me up if it was jarring enough," Kitayama mutters, shoving the battery back into his phone.
"That is bad logic," Totsuka tells him. "If you won't wake up, at least pick something I can sleep through. The sound of birds or something."
"...that's always kind of made me hungry," Kitayama admits.
"Morbid, but maybe it'll serve as incentive to get breakfast," Totsuka says. Then sitting up, he plasters on a guileless grin. "Speaking of breakfast. Since you're up, bring me some back?"
Kitayama steals into Totsuka's discarded top and trackpants. "That is an abuse of power," he complains. "You know I won't say no."
"You could say you'd rather not," Totsuka agrees, "but I probably won't let you off the hook given the circumstances."
"This isn't what I signed up for." Kitayama pouts as he rolls up the hoodie's sleeves. "What other fighter has to get breakfast for their sacrifice?"
"Mm~" Totsuka shrugs and stretches, shoulder popping. "None of our group, actually. Tsuka-chan doesn't trust Fumito with food in the room. Iida~ does judo kata out in the common room at dawn? And meets Yokoo-san in the dining hall after Yokoo's done cleaning their whole bathroom with an old toothbrush... no lie, pinky-swear," he adds, grinning at Kitayama's dubious face. "And then Taipi actually offers to get Gocchi's breakfast every day because he's whipped like that, but Gocchi's the one who ends up going because Taipi's not a morning person."
"I'm not a morning person?" Kitayama points out.
"I'm not a Goseki-kun," Totsuka grins.
Kitayama snorts, heading out the door. "I think we should learn from their example. They're supposed to be the strongest, right?"
"Yeah," Totsuka says, leaning back against the pillows as his smile turns wry. "They call it love, or something like that."
*
Kitayama comes back half an hour later with two bowls of takeaway ramen. Totsuka blinks. "That is not what they've got at the dining hall."
"No," Kitayama says, "but the cereals there look like digestive biscuit crumbs, and unlike most of the rest of you, I have a driver's license."
"And you're not afraid to use it," Totsuka grins.
"Exactly," Kitayama says, clearing enough space on their study-cum-dressing-table for the bowls. "This is the good stuff." He snaps his disposable chopsticks and digs in.
And slurps up the last of his soup about seven minutes later.
"Are you going to eat that?" he asks Totsuka, pointing to the second bowl of ramen.
"Yes," Totsuka assures him, but continues to fiddle with his hair and pinned ears, feeling by touch if they're set right and fixing the pins if they're not.
"...if you're going to eat, then eat," Kitayama says. "Or I'll end up eating it."
"Mm, I will in a bit."
Kitayama crosses his arms, feeling like he should take some token offence. "Why are you still bothering with those?" he asks of the ears. "Sleepless exists now."
"Mm~" Beneath his smile, Totsuka manages to make even his hum sound obtuse. "They're cute."
"Cute," Kitayama repeats, his tone clearly calling Totsuka's lie.
"Something like that," Totsuka grins.
"As if," Kitayama snorts, and holds out his hand. Totsuka raises an eyebrow. "Give them to me," Kitayama tells him. "Your ears."
"I should why?" Totsuka asks, making no move either way.
"Because I'll fix them for you while you have breakfast," Kitayama says. "I'm better than a mirror."
Totsuka smiles, caving, and hands the ears over. "Then, please." Hungry enough, he splits his chopsticks and can't be bothered mustering up a surprised expression when Kitayama unclips the pins and tosses the ears across their room.
The only sounds for a while are Totsuka and his noodles, and Kitayama rummaging around.
"...what are you looking for?" Totsuka asks at length, when the excavation behind him fails to cease.
"My ears," Kitayama tells him.
"Mm, okay." Totsuka goes back to his ramen as if that answer makes perfect sense.
It does in a few minutes anyway, when Kitayama kicks a satchel back under his bed. Back at the table, he sets about attaching Totsuka's hairclips to two fluffy ears in a rich chestnut brown, and Totsuka watches in relative silence while slurping up the last of his breakfast. "...what have you still got those for?" he asks when done, wiping his mouth on the back of one hand. "They are yours, I take it."
Kitayama doesn't look up, concentrating on his task. "If you don't treasure what's yours, nobody else will." His tone is almost detached in a way that Totsuka might've mistaken for nonchalance if he didn't know better.
But "Puppy lover didn't want them?" he guesses instead, from what may or may not be experience.
"Wasn't that type of forever," Kitayama agrees, and holds his ears out. Totsuka bows his head, and obligingly Kitayama leans up to pin them high in his hair, slightly asymmetrical after the inquisitive fashion. "Trust me," he says unprompted, brushing Totsuka's dark hair forward and making sure everything sits right, "I might've been in the soccer club at school, but I can draw and stuff. My aesthetics aren't bad."
Totsuka quirks a smile, having observed the way Kitayama gets tiny lines in his brow when he concentrates, and the round way his mouth purses. Liking what he's seen, he admits, "...well. Neither are mine."
*
"What on earth...?" Fujigaya demands at Totsuka's desk during a break between periods, his own second-year classroom back across the hall and his whisper not much of a whisper. "They're all talking about your ears now, you know? I thought that's what you wanted to avoid!"
Totsuka blinks as if ignorant, brows deliberately rising. "I did? They are?"
Fujigaya rolls his eyes. "Tottsu, seriously..."
"They're cute though, don't you think?" Totsuka says, and tugs fondly on his new brown ears. For maybe the first time, the fact they feel nothing brings him a genuine smile. "They're Mitsu's."
"They're..." Fujigaya's brow knots. "What? But why would you even bother?"
"What a funny thing to do, right?" Totsuka laughs. The likes of Ruthless wouldn't understand.
"Tottsu's always been a moron," Kawai interrupts loudly. With no idea what they're talking about, he appears in the doorway only to give Tsukada a wave and drag Fujigaya away by the arm. "Leave him alone. I need help with my circles thinger before sensei gets back, and Iida's useless."
"You're all about telling the kettle he's not only black but full of piss, too, aren't you?" Fujigaya says, shaking Kawai off. He goes back, though. "It's called geometry, and the reason you suck at it is because your face isn't based on pi."
"You mean phi, right?" Totsuka calls after them, delighted. "Fibonacci's Golden Ratio underlying the perception of beauty?"
"Smart arse!" Kawai shouts.
"Tell it to 'Mitsu'," Fujigaya adds, with a gesture that Totsuka chooses to interpret as a rapper's hand sign (unlike certain other members of the third-year population. "-Fujigaya Taisuke!" Yokoo bellows across the room, and Tsukada quickly laughs, "Watta, Watta, calm down!" pressing Yokoo back into his seat by the shoulders).
Totsuka picks his novel back up with a smile on his face, clicking his pen in time to an invisible tune. Life is good.
This was started just before Yokoo's birthday and has been sitting around for a long time. 8D I need to clear out a lot of my half-baked stuff. *slowly going through the docs*
SO. The last remaining Ebikis pair pic for Loveless AU. ♥ And fic, probably rated a high PG. :D I basically got heaps self-indulgent and wrote my favourites that I never write, just because. (I said one day I'd do Yokoo Iida where they are still friends and Iida isn't dead. xD So here it is. Sort of.)
A/N: *lmao* yokoo's face. 8D they both look on the young side relative to the others, but iida pics are all kind of old... maa. yokoo's ears are usually sitting straight up like :D! or >:\ and iida's a long-haired kitty, thanks to that interview where it was mentioned they actually had to cut his hair when he joined JE instead of growing it out. his ears and tail should (but don't) have daily brushing to keep his coat looking good, much to yokoo's dismay. :D
*
They're an odd pair more than anything.
Iida arrives at the Seven Voices Academy in a well-worn judo gi, a duffel bag on his shoulder; clearly low maintenance where by contrast the room is well-appointed. Though it doesn't show on his face, he hasn't felt anything but out of place since passing through the school gates.
He looks around slowly, hair fanning in bits across his shoulders. For want of a trim, it's pulled back loosely and matches the state of his ears and tail - all honey-tanbark brown and unfamiliar with combs. Iida's eyes are carefully impassive, and neither do his other features show particular animation.
Presently, Julie comes back in through the door trailed by Iida's fighter (or so she had said she'd fetch). His name is Yokoo, apparently, the shortest fifteen-year-old in the Academy. Yokoo, the self-proclaimed budding fashionista. Yokoo, with his sharp eyes and poison tongue, and absolutely no filter between his mind and his mouth.
"Don't you know what a hairbrush is?" he says outright, lip curled to Julie's horror.
But Iida only smiles, bowing slightly. Ironically appropriate: "Please teach me..."
*
"We get a room to ourselves," Yokoo explains as they walk. "Meals are in the dining hall that's next to the common room. I'll show you where later."
"Do you mind if I have a shower?" Iida asks, and Yokoo quirks a brow over his shoulder. Iida's a lot more soft-spoken than most people at Seven Voices (Yokoo's friends especially), but Yokoo can hear him fine. "My mother brought me here from the dojo, so..."
"I'm hardly going to stop you if, y'know, you don't want to smell like a sumo trainee," Yokoo says, and observes it again: that quirked half-smile. It's weird. They've just met and, bond pair or not, can't be close enough for Iida not to find Yokoo's jibes offensive. And yet the other says nothing.
Sacrifices are the ones who are supposed to give the orders and Yokoo wonders briefly if he got a defective one, but shelves that thought when they get to their dorm room. Iida takes two steps in and looks around for a few silent seconds, sighting first the bathroom, then a bed, another bed, and a wardrobe. Then he walks over and shakes the contents of his duffel out onto the mattress that clearly isn't Yokoo's.
Yokoo crosses his arms, watching.
Iida considers his small pile of belongings for a moment, then picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants and a small, plastic soap container. Then heads to the bathroom.
"...shampoo?" Yokoo prompts, unable to bring himself to ask anything about underwear.
Iida turns around. He looks at Yokoo, then at the bar of soap in his hand. "...I just use this?"
Yokoo makes a noise of exasperation. "Go in and get undressed," he says, pointing to the bathroom. "I'll fix you."
Iida hesitates a moment, but again says nothing more than "Okay," as he disappears, leaving the door unlocked.
Purposeful, Yokoo fetches a toiletries bag from his bedside shelf. It's got five bottles of hair product in it, plus soap in a pump, a facial cleanser, toner, comb, moisturiser...
*
The bathroom is spotless. Nothing like the mold farm Iida shared with his two brothers back home; he's never seen something belonging to a boy look so clean. It almost feels intrusive to strip off his judo gi and, for lack of anything else to do without instruction, sit in the empty bath.
Not only are the tiles still white down to the grout, but the bathroom doesn't actually have anything in it either. Except a toothbrush clipped up by the sink.
"I don't leave things in here," Yokoo says, answering Iida's unasked question as he comes through the door. "They get all gross and make everything annoying to clean."
"Okay." Iida supposes that makes sense.
"Start up the shower."
*
Their relationship feels strangely backward, and Yokoo doesn't know why.
Or rather, he does: Iida's their sacrifice, and Yokoo's his fighter, but Yokoo's older and Iida's been taking orders without complaint. Yokoo just doesn't want to admit that the skew might be at least partly his own fault, and wishes instead that Iida weren't such an apparent pushover.
Especially when he sticks his head under the cold water that has yet to warm up, without hesitation. If he gets sick...
Yokoo can't help but wonder aloud, watching him: "Do you even seriously know why you're here?"
Iida doesn't look up, eyes screwed shut against the spray, but- "I was meant for you." -his brevity stops Yokoo dead.
"...do you really believe that?" Yokoo asks.
Iida shuts off the water before answering, parting sodden hair from his eyes. "...Yokoo-san doesn't really seem the type to do what anybody says, if he doesn't want to."
A little unsure how to respond to that oblique reply, Yokoo says, "Well maybe it's only because we've just met, but you don't seem the type to force a guy to do something he doesn't want to, either."
And Iida nods, as if just that simply the conversation's over.
*
It will turn out to be true enough. Iida won't be surprised either, given the company he'll find Yokoo to keep: fighters Fujigaya, Kawai and Koyama; sacrifices Goseki and Shigeaki. A lot of insults fly around that group, but Yokoo turns a deaf ear on anything he doesn't want to hear, and Iida takes it all with a pinch of salt and good-natured laughter.
*
Their name is Weightless.
Yokoo first sees it high across Iida's shoulders while gathering up his hair for shampoo. Reaching out to touch, tracing the letters, Yokoo feels the name resonate with his own in a way he had thought improbable. "Weightless..." he reads, with an innate comprehension of the word that would otherwise be so foreign.
"Immeasurable," Iida says, head bowed.
And Yokoo cracks a smile. "I like that."
Iida nods then stills, eyes closing as Yokoo brushes over their name again and again under the pretense of soap, shampoo, conditioner, water...
Once or twice, he cards his fingers through Iida's knotted hair only to find a red thread tangled through his hands.
*
It had always been the threads driving Yokoo crazy. He had always been able to see them, never choosing not to despite how impatient they'd made him.
He'd always been able to see Fujigaya and Goseki's winding and winding, never knotting. Theirs had been connected before Yokoo even knew them; Kawai and Tsukada's, too, all silk and stronger than piano wire. And when the two pairs had sparred, often and intensely, Yokoo had only been able to sit on the sidelines wondering when when he'd ever get a turn to kick ass.
His own thread had trailed into the distance, its end imperceptible.
*
"This is a mirror," Yokoo says by way of introduction, pressing on Iida's shoulders to make the other sit on his bed across from the article in question.
Iida's towel is now a turban on his head, and he has his pajama bottoms on but not much else. "...I feel silly."
"Just leave it on 'til the Hair Repair can be rinsed out," Yokoo says. "Tomorrow I'll go buy some proper hair scissors, and then we can deal with the fact you've clearly never heard of layers in your life."
"I know what layers are," Iida says, in what is possibly his most objectionable voice since arriving at the Academy. "I've just never had them before."
"Don't think that's not the bigger crime," Yokoo says sternly, and is surprised when Iida laughs.
*
It takes three days for Iida to become, in Yokoo's words, 'finally presentable', his bangs short enough to not fall in his eyes, layered like Yokoo promised, the rest of his hair no longer needing to be tied back. In the mirror, his tail swishes back and forth slowly, its long fur trimmed, brushed out and looking smooth for the first time in years.
Yokoo cards his fingers through Iida's tail one last time, from top to tip; it curls almost shyly against his palm, but Iida's smiling, ears at ease, and Yokoo grins. "We should send a picture to your mother. She wouldn't believe it."
"...thank you," Iida says. "I guess."
"You're welcome." Satisfied with his handiwork, Yokoo snaps Iida's old hair elastic around his wrist to find a home among the half-dozen bracelets and bangles already there.
He's defeated by Iida's wardrobe, though - or the small pile of clothes that Iida seems to think will suffice as such: one ratty black jacket, a couple of pairs of jeans, and a collection of oversized tees in various patterns or blocks of colour and decorated with terrible slogans.
Or, Yokoo is quite sure they would be terrible if he could read them all. He can read one: LOSER, in bold white print on black.
"Clothes should be layered too, you know," he says with a frown.
Iida looks surprised. "What for?"
*
Some days later, after Iida's basic training is done, it's Yokoo who challenges Fujigaya to a practice match. Accepted, of course.
Weightless, Fujigaya laughs. "It's not that easy. Feel the true weight of a bond. Capture!
Goseki smiles his approval at Fujigaya's words as shackles clamp around Iida's wrists, rattling. Iida regards them almost curiously, turning his hands over and back.
"Does it hurt?" Yokoo asks, concerned but not really.
"...a little?" Iida supposes. Strangely, the pressure is more in his heart.
"It's not the worst," Fujigaya sniffs. "I was being nice."
"Sure you were," Yokoo rolls his eyes. Wither and die. Ancient heat burns no more. Expire!
"Hit them hard," Goseki orders, unperturbed as Yokoo's restrictions bind his eyes and wrench his arms behind his back. They're only bandages. He's used to worse.
"Understood," Fujigaya grins. Gravity double! Triple, quadruple, quintuple!
Deflect! Return! Invert! Yokoo calls in defense. It works only once, Iida staggering slightly as the shackles pull him toward the ground. "Order me, Kyohei!" Yokoo snaps, looking back.
"You'd know how to fight like this better than me," Iida says.
"Auto?" Fujigaya scoffs across the arena. Goseki smiles under his restriction. "Watta's never beaten me with us both fighting on Auto, let alone him Auto and us Ruthless."
"No, not Auto," Iida says. Ignoring Fujigaya, he looks Yokoo in the eye. "We'll win this your way."
Yokoo frowns. "I'm not used to fighting with a sacrifice," he says in no uncertain terms. "My style is offensive."
Iida shrugs and straightens, ignoring the weight of Ruthless' multiple restrictions at his wrists. "It's okay." A half-smile quirks his mouth. "If it's how we were meant to be."
"Sounds cute," Goseki observes, to Fujigaya's chuckle. "Kill them."
Feel the pain of your separate states, Fujigaya casts immediately. Wallow in the weakness of your shallow bonds.
Yokoo turns back to the arena, ignoring the crackle of uncountered electricity up the steel shackles behind him and choosing not to hear Iida's grunt of pain. Burn in your complacent pride, he glares instead. You fan the flames of your own demise.
A cough from Goseki turns Fujigaya's head. He's doused in dark oil, hair slick and dangling limp over the bandages around his eyes. Fujigaya reaches out. "Gocchi?"
"End it," Goseki commands, ever calm. "You know how."
"I do," Fujigaya promises, "I will," and presses his lips to Goseki's oil-slicked own.
Ignite, Yokoo casts.
Fujigaya counters immediately, Void, stepping back and leaving cold vacuum in his wake. Goseki's chest heaves just once before he stills, deprived of air. Fujigaya turns back to Yokoo, imperious. No fuel, no fire. Your attack is ineffective.
Yokoo gives a thin smile. "How long's he got, Taisuke? I'll burn him if you drop your guard."
"As if I don't know," Fujigaya narrows his eyes. "It's longer than Iida's got undefended."
Yokoo scowls. He's none of your business.
"Except for how he is?" Fujigaya smiles coldly.
Behind Yokoo Iida kneels, head bowed and wrists weighed down. Electricity crackles through his binds intermittently, making spasming fists of his hands, and there are energy burns up his forearms where the restrictions have chaffed his skin raw.
Intensify, Fujigaya casts, and the electricity flares back to life. Iida's jaw clenches. Amplify.
Dampen, Yokoo calls a crude defence. Dampen, diminish!
Build, boost, energy gather, surround-
Defend, divert! Dispel!
Execute.
With a final snap of electricity, Iida crumples and lies still.
"Kyohei?" Yokoo demands, handing Ruthless the win as his battle system disengages.
Goseki takes a deep breath as his restrictions vanish. He smiles at Fujigaya, I'm alright, and Well fought, rotating his wrists a little to get his circulation back.
Iida's still breathing of course, though shallowly. Under Yokoo's fingers, his pulse slowly steadies and eases the strange weight in Yokoo's stomach. (This partner thing, he feels, might be more trouble than it seems to be worth so far...)
"He'll be alright, Watta," Fujigaya says, walking over with his arm protectively around Goseki's shoulders. "It's never fun to lose, but he'll wake up in a bit. Probably not even that long; he's pretty tough. I had to pile the restrictions on for them to be effective."
"That's not the problem," Yokoo says, frowning. He looks from Fujigaya to Goseki and back again. "That fight was basically you on Auto versus us as Weightless. Gocchi did nothing and we still lost."
"No, no," Goseki smiles, "Iida-kun wasn't doing anything either. We didn't play too hard since it was your first time as a unit and your connection's still weak."
"You'll learn how to exploit it better with practice," Fujigaya adds, making Yokoo's eyes narrow at the patronising tone. (Fujigaya grins, fully aware of it.) "But for now 'til Iida wakes up, learn some decent defence with me? Tsuka-chan said he wants to challenge you guys tomorrow, and hell if I'm giving Fumito another easy win."
Yokoo rolls his eyes. "It's all about you and them." But then he glances back down at Iida, and the knot in his brow that's only now starting to ease in his sleep, and remembers the energy burns on his wrists, gone now but still visible to his mind's eye. Yokoo figures he owes it to Weightless to at least try.
*
By the time Fujigaya's through with Yokoo's 'training', Yokoo knows not only the best counters to the spells Fearless favours, but also a few basic combat stances and how to avoid a roundhouse kick. In theory.
In practice, Yokoo is built like a twig, and Tsukada is the tank type who likes throwing punches as much as wordspells. There is no way, Fujigaya reckons, that Kawai won't get Tsukada hitting physical early. And he also reckons there is no way Yokoo can actually win if that happens, but at least he can maybe duck and weave a bit and keep Tsukada's attention off of Iida. And with any luck, Kawai will forget about the battle and start laughing hard enough to be an easy target for a quick explosion or two.
"I declare a battle by wordspell!" Kawai shouts.
"Fearless challenges Weightless!" Tsukada calls.
"What are you two so loud for?" Yokoo grins. "We aren't deaf."
"Battle accepted," Iida says. And tilts his head curiously as Tsukada steps up some metres in front of Kawai and drops into a loose combat crouch. "...what's he doing?" he asks, dropping his voice and leaning in behind Yokoo's shoulder.
Yokoo snerks. "Tsuka-chan's a fighter. Literally."
"Oh." Iida's eyes seem to light up. "...I can take him."
Yokoo gives a sidelong glance. "Seriously?"
Iida smiles. "Probably."
Yokoo snorts. "He's kind of seasoned at this, but be my guest. Better you get beat up than me."
"Sacrifices take the damage after all," Iida says as he steps past. Across the way, Tsukada grins when their eyes meet and Iida gives a formal bow.
"Oi, Watta!" Kawai yells around the two. "What's this?"
"What is this?" Fujigaya shouts from the sidelines over Goseki's laughter. "After all that yesterday, you're just going to let him fight undefended again?"
"Shut it, Taipi," Yokoo says, crossing his arms. "I trust him more than I need you telling me what to do."
*
Sometimes, Yokoo will still say things like, "Kyon, I'm tired. Carry me back," despite how he's no longer fifteen years old and five-foot-nothing. And Iida will do it, with a piggyback or princess-carry in the face of Fujigaya's laughter.
Yokoo will blow a raspberry, but Iida will smile. He doesn't mind. They're Weightless, after all, and Yokoo isn't what he'd call a burden.
*
*
Also fixed up Sleepless while I was at it. xD Finally. *lazy* (Ahaha~ only Rachel will probably be able to tell what i've changed, but whatever. |D)
Sometime after Yokoo celebrates his eighteenth birthday and Iida his sixteenth, a cowboy comes to town. The new guy has short-cropped hair and a soccer tan, causing a stir because nobody sees him in any of their academic classes, but then there he is after school, battle-training with the rest of the fighters like he hasn't just appeared out of nowhere.
Fujigaya doesn't like him.
"He can't be older than Ii-chan," he complains to Yokoo on their way to training, the third day after the new guy's arrival. "Seriously, are they letting him not board here or something? Go to school someplace else?"
"He boards though," Yokoo says. "He's the one who's been leaving the instant ramen cups out in the common room past midnight." (Yokoo doesn't like him much, either.)
Fujigaya frowns. "But that makes no sense."
Yokoo rolls his eyes. "So we'll ask him about it."
*
Kitayama Hiromitsu just ends up laughing and laughing. "No, no, I study. At university."
Fujigaya and Yokoo stare. For starters, Kitayama doesn't look like a college student. Secondly, if he is, then he's joined Seven Voices about a half-decade too late by regular standards.
"Eh? What's the matter?" Dark ears standing straight up, Totsuka joins their group. "Hiromitsu? Taisuke?"
"They thought I was a middle-schooler!" Kitayama wails, thoroughly amused.
"Tottsu?" Fujigaya blinks. "You're here?"
"I'm here?" Totsuka smiles, eyes deliberately wide.
"Stop that," Fujigaya says, "you know it makes me feel stupid. This is battle training, you don't usually-"
"-you're his sacrifice!" Yokoo accuses, having traced the way the pair's red thread loops and twists around and eventually comes together in the middle. And Kitayama laughs all over again.
"I am~" Totsuka smiles, and this time his eyes disappear.
*
"Why do you wear these?" Kitayama asks later, lying back with an arm tucked behind his head. His bed is across the room from Totsuka's, but neither of them are particularly tidy or my-place-vs-your-place people. One of Totsuka's ears, the white-tipped one, is in Kitayama's hands and he flicks at the hairpin attached to it, eyes across the room on Totsuka's back. "Must be annoying to put in properly every day."
Totsuka shrugs, looking for a decently clean pajama top. "It's easier."
Kitayama raises a brow. "Than...?"
"Mm~" Totsuka hums, by way of saying, well, it's okay you don't know since you weren't here: "Judgement."
Both Kitayama's brows raise. "From the pairs?"
"You've seen it," Totsuka says. "I only did theory classes with them since a sacrifice by himself isn't worth much in battle, but the pair thing's strong. You for me, you know? Me for you, and that's it." He glances over his shoulder. Though his mouth curves up, the expression isn't too happy. "I got impatient. They look down on that kind of thing."
Kitayama gives a lopsided smile. "I'm sorry I made you wait?"
"But you're not, are you?" Totsuka chuckles. "And you didn't anyway. I chose, see." He finds a hoodie that doesn't match with his pants, but is acceptable enough for the nighttime. "Goseki-kun knows. Taipi and Fumito and Tsuka-chan, too, and they don't care. But I was glad you were the same by the time you finally got here." He struggles a bit to get his head out of his hood that's inside out, and finally pops through with an expression of relief that has less to do with their conversation than seeing freedom again. "I mean, I was glad you didn't still have your ears, too."
Struck with a sudden affection, Kitayama tosses the ear at Totsuka's head. "Well, I didn't know what I was supposed to be waiting for, but holding back seems a bit stupid if you can have whoever you want in the meantime, right?"
Totsuka grins, toeing off his socks. "I could've had anyone? Should I be disappointed I'm stuck with you now?"
With a look of mock-condescension, Kitayama tsks. "You're supposed to say you only ever wanted me~ in your deepest heart of hearts."
"I only ever wanted you~" Totsuka repeats, smile turning shadowed, "in my deepest heart of hearts."
"Want me now?" Kitayama asks.
"I guess I wouldn't mind." Crossing the room, Totsuka could afford to look sexier in his baggy pyjamas, but Kitayama doesn't care much.
"You wouldn't mind? That hurts." He reaches out a hand that Totsuka takes with affected daintiness. "Takizawa warned me about that attitude, you know. Told me all about you when he picked me up."
"Tackey-sensei picked you up?" Totsuka asks, as he settles in to straddle Kitayama's lap. "Have you told Taipi that? Because I recommend you don't."
Kitayama makes a face. "Can we not talk about that unibang right now?"
With an agreeable hum, Totsuka winds his fingers through Kitayama's hair, smiling again as he rocks his hips down and Kitayama gives a murmur of approval.
"Take this back off," Kitayama says, tugging at the bottom of Totsuka's hoodie. "What a bother."
Totsuka lets him pull the top over his head, raising his arms. "Well, if I'd known you wanted sex I wouldn't have put it on in the first place. It's your fault for deciding so late."
"It's called going with the flow," Kitayama tells him, then says nothing for a while, his mind otherwise occupied taking in Totsuka's dark eyes and high cheeks, tracing down his neck to the little freckle off-centre by the hollow of his throat, and the way their name starts where his right collarbone ends, disappearing over the curve of his shoulder...
Totsuka smiles, indulging the attention for a little while before pointedly shifting his hips again.
"Impatient~" Kitayama drawls.
"Well." Grinning, Totsuka tugs off Kitayama's tee in return. "A wise man once told me waiting's overrated." And only laughs at all of Kitayama's grumbly noises.
*
Their next morning starts well, with Totsuka shoving Kitayama out of bed and hunkering back down under the blankets by himself.
"What the hell," Kitayama grunts blearily from the floor (the very cold floor), unable to tell which of his aches are from the impact versus last night's discovery that Totsuka's constantly exaggerated facial expressions are actually just an outlet for too much energy under the surface. "What was that for."
In reply, Kitayama's cellphone gets tossed over the side after him, closely followed by its battery.
"Ah, shit..." Kitayama rubs at his eyes. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"It rang ten times!" Totsuka has never usually been anti-mornings, but sharing a room with Kitayama is fast changing that. "Your snooze lasts nine minutes. Three days so far, times ten times ringing times nine minutes each is ninety minutes a day times three days, which is actually a total of four and a half hours of intermittent..."
He peeks out from under the covers, reproachful. "You know, that music's so bad I don't even know the genre."
"I figured it'd wake me up if it was jarring enough," Kitayama mutters, shoving the battery back into his phone.
"That is bad logic," Totsuka tells him. "If you won't wake up, at least pick something I can sleep through. The sound of birds or something."
"...that's always kind of made me hungry," Kitayama admits.
"Morbid, but maybe it'll serve as incentive to get breakfast," Totsuka says. Then sitting up, he plasters on a guileless grin. "Speaking of breakfast. Since you're up, bring me some back?"
Kitayama steals into Totsuka's discarded top and trackpants. "That is an abuse of power," he complains. "You know I won't say no."
"You could say you'd rather not," Totsuka agrees, "but I probably won't let you off the hook given the circumstances."
"This isn't what I signed up for." Kitayama pouts as he rolls up the hoodie's sleeves. "What other fighter has to get breakfast for their sacrifice?"
"Mm~" Totsuka shrugs and stretches, shoulder popping. "None of our group, actually. Tsuka-chan doesn't trust Fumito with food in the room. Iida~ does judo kata out in the common room at dawn? And meets Yokoo-san in the dining hall after Yokoo's done cleaning their whole bathroom with an old toothbrush... no lie, pinky-swear," he adds, grinning at Kitayama's dubious face. "And then Taipi actually offers to get Gocchi's breakfast every day because he's whipped like that, but Gocchi's the one who ends up going because Taipi's not a morning person."
"I'm not a morning person?" Kitayama points out.
"I'm not a Goseki-kun," Totsuka grins.
Kitayama snorts, heading out the door. "I think we should learn from their example. They're supposed to be the strongest, right?"
"Yeah," Totsuka says, leaning back against the pillows as his smile turns wry. "They call it love, or something like that."
*
Kitayama comes back half an hour later with two bowls of takeaway ramen. Totsuka blinks. "That is not what they've got at the dining hall."
"No," Kitayama says, "but the cereals there look like digestive biscuit crumbs, and unlike most of the rest of you, I have a driver's license."
"And you're not afraid to use it," Totsuka grins.
"Exactly," Kitayama says, clearing enough space on their study-cum-dressing-table for the bowls. "This is the good stuff." He snaps his disposable chopsticks and digs in.
And slurps up the last of his soup about seven minutes later.
"Are you going to eat that?" he asks Totsuka, pointing to the second bowl of ramen.
"Yes," Totsuka assures him, but continues to fiddle with his hair and pinned ears, feeling by touch if they're set right and fixing the pins if they're not.
"...if you're going to eat, then eat," Kitayama says. "Or I'll end up eating it."
"Mm, I will in a bit."
Kitayama crosses his arms, feeling like he should take some token offence. "Why are you still bothering with those?" he asks of the ears. "Sleepless exists now."
"Mm~" Beneath his smile, Totsuka manages to make even his hum sound obtuse. "They're cute."
"Cute," Kitayama repeats, his tone clearly calling Totsuka's lie.
"Something like that," Totsuka grins.
"As if," Kitayama snorts, and holds out his hand. Totsuka raises an eyebrow. "Give them to me," Kitayama tells him. "Your ears."
"I should why?" Totsuka asks, making no move either way.
"Because I'll fix them for you while you have breakfast," Kitayama says. "I'm better than a mirror."
Totsuka smiles, caving, and hands the ears over. "Then, please." Hungry enough, he splits his chopsticks and can't be bothered mustering up a surprised expression when Kitayama unclips the pins and tosses the ears across their room.
The only sounds for a while are Totsuka and his noodles, and Kitayama rummaging around.
"...what are you looking for?" Totsuka asks at length, when the excavation behind him fails to cease.
"My ears," Kitayama tells him.
"Mm, okay." Totsuka goes back to his ramen as if that answer makes perfect sense.
It does in a few minutes anyway, when Kitayama kicks a satchel back under his bed. Back at the table, he sets about attaching Totsuka's hairclips to two fluffy ears in a rich chestnut brown, and Totsuka watches in relative silence while slurping up the last of his breakfast. "...what have you still got those for?" he asks when done, wiping his mouth on the back of one hand. "They are yours, I take it."
Kitayama doesn't look up, concentrating on his task. "If you don't treasure what's yours, nobody else will." His tone is almost detached in a way that Totsuka might've mistaken for nonchalance if he didn't know better.
But "Puppy lover didn't want them?" he guesses instead, from what may or may not be experience.
"Wasn't that type of forever," Kitayama agrees, and holds his ears out. Totsuka bows his head, and obligingly Kitayama leans up to pin them high in his hair, slightly asymmetrical after the inquisitive fashion. "Trust me," he says unprompted, brushing Totsuka's dark hair forward and making sure everything sits right, "I might've been in the soccer club at school, but I can draw and stuff. My aesthetics aren't bad."
Totsuka quirks a smile, having observed the way Kitayama gets tiny lines in his brow when he concentrates, and the round way his mouth purses. Liking what he's seen, he admits, "...well. Neither are mine."
*
"What on earth...?" Fujigaya demands at Totsuka's desk during a break between periods, his own second-year classroom back across the hall and his whisper not much of a whisper. "They're all talking about your ears now, you know? I thought that's what you wanted to avoid!"
Totsuka blinks as if ignorant, brows deliberately rising. "I did? They are?"
Fujigaya rolls his eyes. "Tottsu, seriously..."
"They're cute though, don't you think?" Totsuka says, and tugs fondly on his new brown ears. For maybe the first time, the fact they feel nothing brings him a genuine smile. "They're Mitsu's."
"They're..." Fujigaya's brow knots. "What? But why would you even bother?"
"What a funny thing to do, right?" Totsuka laughs. The likes of Ruthless wouldn't understand.
"Tottsu's always been a moron," Kawai interrupts loudly. With no idea what they're talking about, he appears in the doorway only to give Tsukada a wave and drag Fujigaya away by the arm. "Leave him alone. I need help with my circles thinger before sensei gets back, and Iida's useless."
"You're all about telling the kettle he's not only black but full of piss, too, aren't you?" Fujigaya says, shaking Kawai off. He goes back, though. "It's called geometry, and the reason you suck at it is because your face isn't based on pi."
"You mean phi, right?" Totsuka calls after them, delighted. "Fibonacci's Golden Ratio underlying the perception of beauty?"
"Smart arse!" Kawai shouts.
"Tell it to 'Mitsu'," Fujigaya adds, with a gesture that Totsuka chooses to interpret as a rapper's hand sign (unlike certain other members of the third-year population. "-Fujigaya Taisuke!" Yokoo bellows across the room, and Tsukada quickly laughs, "Watta, Watta, calm down!" pressing Yokoo back into his seat by the shoulders).
Totsuka picks his novel back up with a smile on his face, clicking his pen in time to an invisible tune. Life is good.