To be loved is to be warm[and nothing is warmer than blood]: Chapter 1
Summary: Yanagi's outburst in Ch!2 gains the attention of Okazaki. As she continues to pull and provoke him, she learns she finds him more interesting than she originally thought. The longer their game goes, the more she thinks how a good of a martyr he'd be.
Especially if he was stained in red.
Note, this is a dark fic. I wrote it to fill my Yanazaki itch. Pay attention to the tags as the story progress. Link for it is below this. I hope you will enjoy it. Or if you want, you can read it under the cut.
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She thinks she likes Watari.
Out of all of the boring and bland people she was stuck with in the school, Watari was the fun to talk to her. She was energetic, willing to do whatever as long as she thought it was funny(though she drew a line at hurting people. She’d make threats but they were empty. Perhaps one day she can make her cross that line.), and smiled a lot.
Okazaki falters for a moment in her steps, slowing down besides Watari in the hall. Perhaps, she’s growing too soft if that was important to her. Watari did have a nice smile, while it was rarely malicious or cruel, it was always big and showed all her feelings without regret. It was an odd case on how somone can be so unapologetic and energetic in a situation as grim and bleak as theirs. A part of her wants to poke holes in her mindset, to see how long it would take for her to break and succumb to the reality of their situation.
“Hanano?” The sound of Watari’s voice caused the mask artistic to snap out of her thoughts. The girl had slowed down to match her pace, shoulder to shoulder with the other. Her smile had shrunk but it still stayed strong, unfractured. “Are you feeling alright?”
She could say no. She could blame Watari for her lackluster behavior today. Perhaps she could push and sink her teeth deep into her heart and watch her pick up the pieces afterwards—
Okazaki’s hand finds its way to Watari’s shoulder. The latter seems to beam at the contact and her own hand comes up to place it over Okazaki’s. Her hand is smaller and warmer than her own. Really warm, even though the bandages around her palms and fingers, Okazaki can feel the heat radiate and the cold that she become accustomed to lifts, and the two meld together, just for a moment.
“I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep last night.” Part of what she says is true. The other half of the omission is the realization that it wouldn’t do her any good to hurt her now. If she did, Watari would leave her and she’d be alone. There was no one here she found as interesting as Watari.
Well, there was one person.
The sound of her nemesis’s voice fills her with a sense of exhilaration. From under the protection of her mask, Okazaki feels a foxish grin form on her lips. Tsuno Manami. The beloved hero of Nagoya, her other half, her nemesis.
Okazaki quickens her pace and Watari follows, glad her friend is in brighter spirits. The two enter the kitchen and Okazaki takes a quick note on who is in the room. Currently Ojima and Hiroaki are huddled together near the coffee machine. Hasegawa stands near them, coffee mug in hand with steam emitting from the cup. Tamba, Hayashi, and Yanagi stand near the kitchen island. Finally, her eyes set on Tsuno who hovers over Wada like a dotting mother. When she sees her, Okazaki’s entire world is centered on the sight of her rival. Her destined enemy. Tsuno turns her head and catches sight of her and Watari entering.
She waits for recognition to fill her eyes, for the superhero to acknowledge her-not just as mask artistian-but as the foil to her. The yin to her yang, her evil to her goodness, villian and hero.
However it never comes. Tsuno just vocalizes a cheery greeting, no malice fills her eyes, nothing in her face reveals any hidden intention. She was being genuine in her glee to see her.
Okazaki wanted to wipe the smile off her face. Weather or not she wanted to do with her own blood or not, she hasn’t decided. What kind of hero doesn’t recognize a villain as a villain? How dare she stand there and pretend like their fates weren’t intertwined, like she was the same like the rest of the people in the room.
The tingling feeling Okazaki had felt before left her body, leaving her feeling empty.
No one paids any mind to her as Watari speaks for the both of them. She is only half listening to the conversation, something about books. Instead, she chooses to observe. She mostly focuses on Tsuno, searching for any sign of new information about the hero. However the other girl was engrossed in the conversation the others had. The only prominent detail she catches is how her arm rests on Wada’s, pulling him close.
Or perhaps pulling him away from someone else. Okazaki watches her glance at another person in the room, she follows her line of sight and is greeted with the face of Yanagi.
Something about him was different. While Tsuno’s face was relaxed and genuine, his was a different story. He was focused on the gloves that rested on the counter. He flexed his fingers every other moment, brows drawn close as he remains, unblinking. Her eyes move down onto his lips. They were in a tight grimace, the corners of it twitching slightly.
Okazaki looks up at the others. They don’t notice how wound up Yanagi is. The idea confuses her, after one glance, she can tell something is wrong. His presence radiate like a tick of a bomb. He’s waiting for something to set him off.
Okazaki is not surprised when that person is Hiroaki.
It’s a off handed comment. Something about him and Sasaki having similar book taste. Most of them dismiss the comment, just nodding along without thinking about it for long. It clicks for her first before it does for Yanagi. How does he know that?
Hiroaki seems startled about the question however he shrugs it off, dodging the chance to answer it honestly. For him it’s not a big deal but the more he ignores the question, the more agitated the figure skater seems to become. It’s not anger in his gaze but it’s almost. One more word, one more misstep and the bomb would go off.
The diary reveal doesn’t surprise her. It seems like the type of thing he’d do. The confirmation just makes her all the more relieved he didn’t get her gun in the switch. Now only if she could find the gun, then her life would be so much easier.
What did surprise her is Yanagi’s anger. The confirmation strikes him hard and she could see him flinch when Hiroaki doesn’t deny his accusation. He stands straighter, fist clenched, face dropping into a scowl. He raises his voice for a moment and the atmosphere of the kitchen changes. It’s subtle but everyone can feel it, even Hiroaki. The air in the room had shifted, it was more tense and thick. It even got to the point that Hasegawa quietly left the kitchen, wanting nothing to do with what was building. This was no longer just a petty squabble or nonsensical fight. Yanagi was mad, furious she’d even say.
Hiroaki stares at Yanagi for a long moment, without speaking. His face is flustered at being called out so suddenly but his lips are pinched in a frown. He calls for them to take th conversation outside, running to regain control of the situation.
Yanagi spats out an agreement and both Wada and Tamba flinch at the tone he is using. The two make their way to the hall and on his way, Yanagi walks past where Watari and Okazaki are standing. She lifts her gaze and turns to face him. The lighting in the kitchen hits the holes in her mask, illuminating her eyes for a second. She winces, but forces herself to ignore the blinding light to stare at Yanagi.
His face softens for a fraction of a second as he meets her gaze. Okazaki can’t quite pinpoint what it is he’s looking at her with. She doesn’t have a long time to ponder it because the moment he looks back at Hiroaki, his face hardens like stone. She turns and watches them walk behind the closed doors.
She was wrong, his anger was not like a bomb. It was like a nuke.
They heard chatter beyond the door and the others try to start up another conversation. It’s apparent, though, that the argument from the other side presses at their minds. They don’t interfere, however.
Okazaki hears Hiroaki go on a long tangent and she relaxes against the kitchen countertop. She lets her head fall back and whispers, “Five…four…three…two…”
A loud twap leaves them silent. They do nothing until they hear the cries of pain from Hiroaki and more thumps. The rest of them head for the door.
Okazaki is the only one unsurprised. But she is intrigued.
Chiba was right. Hiroaki did look like a grape.
His entire face was swollen with purple and red bruises littered on his jaw and cheeks. He is pressing an ice pack against his eye, his glasses resting in his pocket, allowing everyone to see the anger in his green eyes.
The others sit around the in the dining room, everyone is grouped together with the ones they were close with; Okazaki sitting with Watari, of course. Besides Watari, Tamba sat next to her. In full honesty, Okazaki didn’t care for the gymnast in the slightest. She was impulsive, selfish, and dim. If she were just one of those traits, perhaps maybe Okazaki could find it in herself to tolerate her presence, but no. She was simply just too much.
Okazaki turns her attention away from the blonde haired girl and refocuses her attention to the discussion. Quite a simple dilemma presented itself in front of them: what to do with Yanagi? In full honesty she didn’t mind Hiroaki’s idea to just leave him to rot in the AC room, mostly out of curiosity instead of Hiroaki’s scorned ire. If he died like that, who’d be responsible? Would it be whoever made the call, whoever was the last one to pass by the room before he died, or would all of be responsible, none of them at all? Theories filled her head and she hummed in delight. Perhaps the gas would quicken his death or prolonge it to a painful process.
But alas, the people here were just, too good. Too sweet, too caring, too nice. It was annoying. They don’t want to kill him but they didn’t know how to handle him either. At least Watari was giving suggestions, the hot coals was a good one. Though in her opinion, the best possible way to punish him would be to isolate him. From what she’s seen from the figure skater, he prided himself on being sociable. Isolating him, leaving him alone with the fact that they were all disappointed in him, afraid even, it would get the message across.
But if they were too impatient for that, beating him was also an option.
Instead, they were thinking to just lock him in the AC room. Okazaki nearly scoffed when she heard that idea. That’s it? How dreadfully boring. Besides, the chances of it being effective were low, in her opinion. The small room would cause him to go stir-crazy and maybe even more violent than before. And for how long? Honestly, she thought the class would be smarter than that.
Okazaki let her eyes drift from teen to teen before landing on her beloved and loathed Tsuno and, well, Wada. The two were stuck like glue, especially after the death of Isono. It was quite disappointing, seeing her nemesis reduced to just a caretaker for that pathetic and weak boy. She tilts her head as she examines his expression. He was nervous, more so than usual. Besides Hiroaki, he was also quite adamant on not letting Yanagi get off Scot-free.
She studies his face before asking the group, though the question is more so for Wada than the others, “What was it that he did before punching Hiroaki, again?”
She enjoys the way he squirms where he stands as he answers, “He-he tried to trap me in the library. He wouldn’t let me leave.”
Okazaki lets herself stare at him for longer. Wada shifts uncomfortably when he looks at her. One of the many pros to wearing mask is the lack of a face is a very effective way to make people uneasy. Despite her still staring at Wada, her mind was brought back to Yanagi.
From a very young age, Okazaki learned that people often fit nicely into certain boxes. There were those who were distant and cold, those who were cowards and weak, those who were kind and good to a pitying degree, and many more. Once you figure out which boxes people fit into, you can predict them with ease. Okazaki was the villain type. One born and made to evil, shaped by it even. Her life was dedicated to chaos and villainy, her only purpose in life to be the phantom thief that her childhood shapes her to be. Tsuno was her opposite, the hero. Good and kindness was in her blood. It was her life’s work. And it was Okazaki’s job as the villain to oppose her. Everyone else was irrelevant, nobodies that she just usually classified as lesser version of her and Tsuno. Most of the class fit under Tsuno’s box, including Yanagi.
Cheating on his girlfriend, almost letting some random girl he barely know get away with murder, trapping someone in a room, and nearly beating someone to death…
Not very good attributes to have. In fact, they fit more with someone more villianous, maybe even vile.
Okazaki frowns. Yet, calling him a villian wasn’t accurate. He still took his punishment when he didn’t have to, volunteered to take a stab to the hand for Sasaki, and from what she’s heard from Watari—did everything he could to her and Tamba happy. He didn’t fit the same box as her, yet he also didn’t fit Tsuno’s box.
Yanagi Shigeki: a mess of contradictions and confusion. Something she just didn’t understand.
Okazaki doesn’t like that. The unknowns were frustrating, something often out of her hands. She never cared for them and often did everything to make them be something she knew and understood. Yanagi, she did not understand. A stir formed in her chest, almost like an unreachable itch.
She finally turns her head away from Wada to listen to Hama volunteer to be the first warden to look after Yanagi. Soon after, Watari follows, eyes already filling with mischief at the idea of being in charge. Okazaki feels the similar feeling occupy her too, of course until Tamaba invites herself along to join Watari. No fun, indeed.
That left one more spot for warden duty for the day. Okazaki lets her eyes move from one student to another. No one volunteers, either they have no interest in it or they were afraid. If someone were to tell her that people in their group was afraid of over-the-top, princely Yanagi, she would’ve laughed at the idea.
But now? Now she wanted to know more.
‘Well, if no one else will do it. I won’t look a gifted horse in the mouth,’ Okazaki thinks before she step forward. The rest of them stare at her but she pays them no mind. This isn’t out of the goodness of her heart, she doesn’t have any. This was for her and her only, to satisfy that itch in her chest and brain.
‘You know what they say,’ she thinks as she lifts her hand. Once again, she is thankful for her mask to hide the wolfish grin that spreads to her ears.
‘Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.’
“I don’t mind being the third warden.”
