A/N: For Nameless, the loveless zine! I haven’t thought of this series for years and I feel very nostalgic just writing this.
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i.
It was instinctive, the way Soubi’s hand reached into his pocket, his fingers curling over the cool plastic. Entirely habitual and he almost pulled it out before remembering that he was sitting on a bench in the middle of a children’s park. There was a time when that wouldn’t have been a problem, when he would have lit his cigarette and felt the bitter sting of nicotine. That time wasn’t now. Soubi wasn’t sure what had changed, just as it did, and he eyed the lone straggler on the swings balefully. In the late evening, most of the kids had left for dinner, leaving behind the odd loner, and destroying any chance of a smoke break.
Oh well, Yuiko would be here any moment anyways. Pulling out his phone, Soubi checked the time. 7:20. She should be here in another five minutes. What for, he wasn’t sure. All of her texts asking him to meet her were surprisingly evasive, only confirming the time, the place, and that he couldn’t forget to come. Maybe that was why she hadn’t called him to arrange this; Yuiko was a terrible liar and the second she’d opened her mouth, he would have known what this was all about.
Still, for the life of him, Soubi couldn’t figure out what Yuiko wanted. Even more so than most children her age, she was extremely up front about her emotions. It was oddly refreshing, compared to the Zeros or even Ritsuka; Soubi couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone so guileless. Her teacher, perhaps, but he made it a point to avoid her.
“Soubi!” A breathless, high-pitched voice cut through his thoughts and Soubi looked up in time to catch Yuiko as she dashed through the park toward him. Her comfy t-shirt and cotton shorts were grass stained and small twigs and leaves tangled in her long hair. Even her backpack looked dirty and he wondered idly if she’d ran through a forest to get here. “I’m sorry, I’m late—”
“You’re not,” he interrupted, motioning to her to take a breath before continuing. There were already tears in her eyes and he didn’t want to start the conversation with her bawling.
“I’m not?” Surprised, Yuiko pulled out her phone and gasped. “I’m not!”
Soubi resisted the urge to smile. Maybe it was the naivete. He wasn’t used to interacting with someone like her. Patiently, he waited for her to calm down before asking, “What do you need?”
“Need?” Yuiko fidgeted in front of him, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. She scuffed a shoe along the ground. “It’s not…I don’t…um…”
“You?” he prodded, watching as her ears flattened slightly as she grew more and more nervous. Ritsuka’s ears and tail were like that too, displaying his feelings clearly for all to see. It was cute. Had he ever been this cute as a child? He couldn’t remember, but he doubted it.
“I…” Yuiko paused again, her tail twitching anxiously as her eyes flickered from the ground to him and the back again. Unslinging her backpack, she held it tightly before taking a deep breath. “You…” She breathed in once more, long and slow, before hurriedly shoving her backpack at him. “This is for you!”
What was? Soubi wondered, his blank expression stiffening as he studied the offering. Was it the bag or something in the bag? Both questions lay heavy on his tongue, unable to decide which one to utter.
Before he uttered a word, Yuiko realized what she was doing and blushed an even brighter shade of red. “O-one second!” She quickly unzipped the bag and rummaged inside. Finding her prize, she yanked it out and pressed it into his hands. “For you,” she mumbled, looking away, tears glistening once more in her eyes.
Soubi looked down at the springing object in his hands. It was an oddly-small flower wreath, a clumsy looking thing with stems sticking out together here and there. Despite that, it still held together surprisingly well. It wasn’t something he needed, but he nodded his thanks all the same. “A wreath.”
“A flower crown,” Yuiko corrected, rubbing her eyes and looking at him once more. She pointed to her head. “You put it on.”
“I see.” Soubi rotated the wreath in his hands, feeling utterly bemused. He was getting used to the antics of children now, with days spent with the Zeros or Ritsuka teaching him more than he’d ever expected. Somehow, the utter randomness of children surprised him. “That makes more sense.”
“Yeah.” Yuiko glanced around before clearing her throat. Before Soubi could react, she shouted, “Happy Birthday!”
The one kid in the playground perked his ears, glancing curiously at them. Soubi was only half-conscious of that. Instead, he stared blankly at Yuiko. “Birthday,” he repeated softly, not sure which was more surprising—someone remembering it or him uttering the word.
Yuiko nodded, pushing her two index fingers against one another as she looked away. “I know it’s not a good gift, but I only found out today and it was the best thing I could make.”
Well, that explained the grass stains. Soubi glanced at her hands, at the dirt on her nails and the roughness of her palms. She must have started immediately after class to get it done on time. Plopping the crown on his head, he nodded approvingly. “A little small but it fits.”
“You look pretty,” Yuiko gushed, immediately cheering up. “You like it?”
This time, he couldn’t stop his smile. “Yeah.”
-x-
ii.
Love was hard. Yayoi had read every romance book in the library and then stolen one or two from his mother’s secret stash, and this was the one lesson he’d learned from them all. Love was hard. Usually, there was an evil sheriff or hitman or villainous ex that appeared, coming between two star-crossed lovers.
Yayoi would argue that sitting on a bench with his rival while waiting for his crush to arrive was equally as hard. He glanced to his right. As usual, Ritsuka looked entirely unperturbed, as though they weren’t sitting on a bench on opposite sides, the space between them too big for Yuiko to fit entirely. When she came back from the cafeteria, several bags of bread in hand, and sat down, she would force them to come closer. And they would, but not until she came back.
It was a dance they went through every lunch. While Yayoi could say that Ritsuka wasn’t only a rival, they weren’t exactly friends either. He was Yuiko’s friend more than he was Yayoi’s, and that was something he was entirely fine with. There wasn’t a single romance story for the rival and the hero became friends. Still. Yayoi glanced again at Ritsuka. Would it kill the other boy to look at least uncomfortable? Then again, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Ritsuka as anything other than collected. The boy had swept in like a fierce gale, throwing Yayoi’s life into disarray, and never looked the worse for wear for it.
“Are you fine with this?” Yayoi asked, unable to stop the words spilling out of his mouth.
Surprised, Ritsuka turned to him. “Fine with what?”
Yayoi tensed, his neck warm as he realized he didn’t know where he planned to take this conversation. Hell, he didn’t even know what he meant by the question. Fine with the triangle, fine with the strange number of transfer students, fine with his mother—there were so many ways to take a single question. His ears flattened as he thought about it before finally gesturing at the space between them. “With all of this?”
“You don’t like me, right?” Ritsuka shrugged, leaning back into the bench and staring at the sky. “It’s cool.”
“That’s not true,” Yayoi blurted, his mouth moving before his mind could catch up. His hands itched to cover his mouth, to stop these treacherous words from escaping his throat. In romance, the hero defeated the rivals, winning the heroine’s hand. They didn’t start to like their rivals, didn’t start to think of them as friends.
Yayoi wondered, not for the first time, if he wasn’t the hero and was just another doomed suitor.
“It’s not?” Ritsuka looked at him, really looked at him, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “Really?”
It was too late to shove the words back now and whether he liked it or not, Yayoi had meant them. Begrudgingly as it was, he did consider Ritsuka to be his friend. “Yeah.” He paused, steeling himself before pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope from his pocket. “Here.”
Ritsuka glanced at the envelope before gingerly picking it up. “What’s it for?”
“My birthday party.” Yayoi coughed, looking away. “You can come if you want.”
If he had turned around, he would have seen a pleased smile and red cheeks, a boy beside himself with joy. But he didn’t, so Yayoi could only hope that Ritsuka’s ‘Yes’ was an honest one.
-x-
iii.
Kio was drunk. He knew that, from the way his fingertips buzzed to the tingle up his spine. His mouth was dry, his head pounded, and tomorrow morning he would be a mess of regrets. He was so drunk, he had gone from knowing he was drunk to denying it to knowing it once more.
Needless to say, climbing the last set of stairs to his apartment was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life. And that included getting kidnapped and beaten by a strange pair of Soubi’s ex-classmates. At least, he thought they were—Soubi had refused to explain the matter further and Kio was too afraid to ask. Their friendship had always felt delicate and while Soubi was opening up more now, he wasn’t sure what boundaries were still standing and which he could dance right past.
That was perhaps the only reason he had accepted Soubi’s utter rejection of joining in for some birthday drinks. Well, that and the fact that Kio had asked at least ten times to no avail. If Soubi didn’t want to celebrate Kio getting one year closer to death, well, that was on him. It wasn’t like he had good taste in the first place, as evidenced by Seimei’s entire existence.
“Woah!” Kio mumbled as he almost tripped over a step. Clutching the guard rail, he panted heavily and tried to regain his bearings. Were stairs supposed to be this hard? Was he out of shape? Next time, he was getting a ground-floor apartment. There would be none of this exercise nonsense.
Glancing behind him, he realized he was halfway there. Just a little more, and he could dive into his futon and pass out. Future him would probably wish he’d changed first, but that was future, sober him’s problem. Drunk Kio only had one mission, and that was to get to bed. Finally reaching his door, he leaned against it and sighed. Almost there.
His keys jangled as he tried to find the right one. As usual, it was the last one he tried. While the door swung open silently, Kio heard a thud. Looking down, he stared at a square package at his feet. Had that always been there? God, he was so drunk. He hadn’t even noticed that there had been something at his door. Crouching, he stared at it. It looked like a canvas. His fingers brushed against the slim sides. No, it had to be a canvas; he worked with them day in and day out and his body had memorized the weight and shape of the various sizes they came in.
Mystified, he clumsily picked it up and stumbled into his apartment. Was it a delayed assignment? No, it was wrapped in the plainest wrapping paper that existed. A gift then, but there was no note, no card, no nothing. It could be for his neighbour, for all he knew. Eagerly, he tore through the flimsy wrapping. Black paint slowly appeared, followed by splashes of blue and yellow, before he finally revealed a butterfly painting.
No, not just any butterfly painting—it was a remake of the one Soubi had made when they’d first met. Kio covered his mouth, giddy. The bastard cared. He had always known that, but it was one thing to believe it, another to find proof. Soubi cared.
Suddenly, sleep was the last thing on his mind. Pulling out his phone, he drunk-dialed his friend. Future him would probably regret this too, but that was for future him to care about.
Current him had to make sure Soubi knew exactly how happy he was.
-x-
iv.
“Here.”
Surprised by the unexpected hand thrust in her face, Yuiko looked down from Youji’s smug expression, following his arm until she was staring cross-eyed at the small, rectangular paper in his hand. Scrawled messily on the white page was Badminton tournament. She squinted, not sure if she was reading it right, before looking back at him. “Thanks?’
Next to Youji, Natuso sighed, looking utterly unimpressed. There was no one else in the classroom, but she knew that even if there were, his next words would have remained the same. The twins never changed what they said no matter who was around, and Yuiko envied that. “I know, I know, this is a five-year-old’s idea of a gift.”
“Hey!” Ears flattened, brow furrowed, Youji glared at his twin and growled, “This is a good gift.”
“Is it?” Natsuo snorted in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair and scornfully added, “You just want to beat her at badminton. That has nothing to do with her at all. You’re supposed to think of the other person, stupid.”
“Gift?” Yuiko interrupted, cutting through the brewing argument. She gently pried the voucher from Youji’s hand, staring at it curiously. It was ridiculously plain, without even an attempt at a border or sparkles or any decoration of any sort. He must have spent five minutes on it, max, before giving it to her.
“For your birthday, duh,” Youji grumbled, but despite his tone, he was looking away. His ears twitched slightly, an embarrassed expression on his face. “You’re not getting anything better, no matter how you cry.”
Yuiko didn’t listen, instead looking at the paper once more. A birthday gift. Certainly not one she wanted—she liked playing badminton, sure, but gifts were supposed to be special things. Things you can’t get otherwise, and they would always be able to play badminton.
Yet it was a gift from Youji. She hadn’t expected this, not in the least. If anything, she’d thought the twins hadn’t liked her that much.
A gift. For her.
Smiling broadly, she hugged Youji tightly. “Thanks!”
Natsuo’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
-x-
v.
“Let’s hang out at my house,” Yuiko demanded, standing in front of Ritsuka’s desk. Well, it was as close to a demand as she could get, her cheeks dusted red and her voice rising an octave with each word. “Please?”
Ritsuka was used to the beeline she made as soon as the bell rang to his desk, as though if she didn’t catch him immediately he’d slip away with the breeze. To be honest, with all that was happening around him, sometimes that was the case—between Soubi, the fights, and hunting for clues, it was sometimes hard for him to find time for his friends.
Still, this was more direct than Yuiko usually was. He stared at her for a moment, watching as her face turned redder and redder as he kept silent. Well, it wasn’t a bad thing if she was getting more confident. Maybe one day she’d be able to fight those bullies away herself.
Flustered, Yuiko pressed, “I really want—”
“Sure,” he agreed, getting up.
“—you to come…” Yuiko trailed off, a blank expression on her face before she realized what was happening. Surprised, she watched as he headed to the door. “Really?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Ritsuka grinned as she scrambled to grab her bag and coat. “What, you weren’t ready?”
“Don’t tease me!” she wailed, almost tripping over a chair in her haste to get out. Stray hairs escaped her usually neat pigtails and she looked like she’d run a marathon and not just left a classroom.
“Don’t make it so easy,” he countered, laughing as they slipped into an easy banter on their way home. It was strange. Truly strange. A year ago, even a few months ago, he could never have imagined this. Friends? Laughing? Smiling? A place that he could call his? All of them had been so far beyond his imagination that he couldn’t even picture it.
Yet, here he was, walking home with someone as thought it was the norm. His mother and brother were the furthest thoughts from his mind, his focus instead entirely on the all-too red girl next to him. His best friend, possibly, but Ritsuka hadn’t yet mustered the courage to ask. Yuiko’s ears twitched nervously, her fingers pressing against one another, and her words ran into one another as though she was desperately trying to say something, anything. Clearly, she was up to something.
“What’re you hiding?” he asked and that too was new. Knowing someone well enough to tell when they were lying. It was a permanence he hadn’t expected.
“Whaat?” Yuiko yelped, her complexion turning even redder, if possible. Ritsuka imagined he could find every shade of red if he hung around her long enough. It was a pleasing thought. Shaking her head rapidly, she stuttered, “N-nothing, I’m just…Why do you think that?”
“Hmmm?” It was tempting to push her even further. Yuiko was a terrible liar, which was a relief when compared to the Soubi’s and Seimei’s in his life. Everyone else was too good at hiding and he liked this feeling of having an upper hand for once. Still, whatever she was planning couldn’t be terrible, and it wouldn’t be bad to have a nice surprise for once. “Fine, keep your secrets.”
“There aren’t any!” she shouted, her voice giving her away yet again.
Ritsuka laughed. His tail swayed lazily as he wondered just what he should expect. Knowing Yuiko, it had to be something simple. Maybe a movie or a game. They could get Soubi to come over after and cook something too. Or invite Yayoi to play with them, or the Zero’s—and Ritsuka had a lot of people in his life these days. A lot of friends.
“OK! WE’RE HOME!” Yuiko announced loudly as she stood in front of her door, shaking her keys slightly before slipping them in.
Perplexed, Ritsuka followed her in through the door. Were her parents home? Was that why she was talking like—
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
The loud shout jolted him out of his thoughts and Ritsuka’s jaw dropped as confetti rained through the hair. Standing in Yuiko’s living room were all of the people he’d been thinking of, and then some—Osamu and his teacher stood amongst the crowd.
“Happy birthday!” Yuiko chimed in, looking at him eagerly.
A surprise party. He would never have imagined that either, not even a few hours ago, but Ritsuka was finding that wasn’t a bad thing.
The future, oddly enough, was something to look forward to.
