Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The only sounds filling the atmosphere were the echoing shoes colliding with the floor on par with the music. Everything is so perfectly synchronized as if there weren’t multiple people on the stage, but one single person, coordinating every body to follow the same movements with flawless coordination. One spin, two spins, three spins, the count is lost. A jump. Perfect landing. They were capable of morphing the reality and create their own world where the world graceless did not exist.  

Their feet hit the floor in the rhythm of the song, creating the illusion that the sound is part of the song itself. The glamorous dresses sparkle in the soft light, a beautiful mix of purple and gray that pleases everyone’s eyes and adds to the royal ambience. Everyone was engrossed in their act. The men were just as graceful and elegant as the women. A refreshing mix that doesn’t fail to keep the audience engaged. The dance comes to an end and people are clapping as hard as they can, it was a splendid performance that deserved all the recognition. 

Then it comes her part. It’s nearing the end, and he is a bit tired. He already knows the moves by heart, they come and watch it every year. It’s a classical. There couldn’t be a better one for this evening. It was her evening after all. The music is suddenly slower, sweeter, more fit for the dance that is about to start. The two make their entrance. She wears a most beautiful tutu dress. It has to be like that, she is the main focus until the end of the show.  

At first the dance is slow, an elegant adagio but soon it is replaced by a more powerful rhythm. Spin, after spin, after spin. One by one they lift her up, the music hits the peak. She doesn’t remove her smile, not even for a split second. They do a quick bow while the room is vibrating with claps. Their révérence is deep and respectful towards the audience. Even when she leaves the stage to let her male companion to do his solo part, she is charming. Not removing her smile for a split second.

His part is quick but doesn’t fail to impress with his impeccable moves. A series of perfectly executed cabrioles is enough to earn him an overwhelming round of applauds.  

They exchange places, he is running backstage to allow her to shine. For the next minutes the entire stage will be hers, no one else will interfere.

From the first moment, port de bras, she lifts her arm up according to the celesta keys. Rond de jambe, hitting the floor 5 times as she turns her body for each turn. Arabesque followed by pas de chat. Piqué turns, more arabesque. She is the center of attention. The whole room is holding their breath while watching her as she completes choreography. Moving her feet to the sound of music, quick small steps, as if it’s the pointes that create those ding ding ding, fountain-water-drops-like sounds. Blinking feels like a waste, as if it would be illegal to take your eyes off her.  

Time feels broken and it doesn't move forward anymore, but goes backwards. It took the spectators centuries back, to a royal banquet, and the fairy herself came at the request of the king to perform her mesmerizing act, inviting everyone to visit The Land of Sweets. 

There they are! The final turns! Manèges, spinning from one leg to the other in a circle across the stage. And then she ends the dance with another révérence, accepting the public’a acclaims.

Her male companion returns for their pas de deux. Pirouettes, arabesques and one last lift is what ends their reign as every dancer, that was patiently waiting for them to finish, joins the stage.  

“Don't ballet dancers get dizzy from doing so many spins?” Rather than paying attention and risking to be engrossed in the act like everyone else, Yotasuke tries to look at it from a technical point.  

Tuxedos and classy dresses. This is what the young Yotasuke can discern. The dining hall glimmers with white sparkles, making everything look even more sophisticated. There is a huge Christmas tree in the middle of the wall, between two windows that reveal a snowy landscape. Music is playing in the background, filling the inexistent gaps that are left by the guests.  

It’s Christmas eve and every member of the family is present. Everyone is here to praise her for another successful performance, and to give their blessings for the future marriage. Next spring, she will be marrying her fiancé, a first violinist for the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra. How pretentions, a ballerina and a violinist.  

They have known each other since childhood and while it does look like actual love, the thought of arranged can’t be skipped. It is the same for her career. Aiko is a wonderful young woman, with a strong ambition and work ethics. If one were to ask her about the dance career, she’d simply reply saying it is the passion that kept her going. But that can’t be right, right? It’s not her that chose to pick up dancing at the age of 7. It was her parents. She simply went along with it, fulfilling her good daughter role and making her guardians proud.  

Christmas parties are a long tradition for his family. It is the perfect occasion for adults to meet up and display their new achievements from the previous year. 

Yotasuke can see his aunts eyeing him with concerned looks as if he is a broken object that needs immediate care. However, he is used to that, they do it every time they have a get along. And every time he looks back at them, they turn their eyes away and continue chatting. Why is he more of an interest than his cousin? Did they come only to gossip about him? Adults are troublesome and complicated.   

He is looking at the Christmas tree, it looks very similar to the one they displayed on the stage. He just wants to go home where his cat awaits him, where no one is peering at him and judging him and making him uncomfortable. His cat would never do that. 

“Are you tired Yotasuke-chan?” he recognizes the voice. It is grandma. He doesn’t reply verbally, he just looks at her with empty eyes and a very tired face instead. He can’t muster the energy to talk. It is true that he is tired, but he is not that tired to be unable to speak. This is a different kind of tired, an exhaustion that affects him emotionally. So he doesn’t say a word and turns his head towards the Christmas tree. He has already received his gift for this year so he is hoping for the next year to be different. That would be a good gift. 

“You are such a good boy, Yotasuke-chan" he can hear her continue talking while everything around him becomes a blur.  

Chapter Text

Beep. Beep.  

6:45 AM 

The phone alarm rings on his side. Yotasuke jumps up and deactivates it. It’s the same every day. Having a routine is good, comforting. You don’t have to waste energy on deciding because you already know what you will do next. Having breakfast – he has the same breakfast every day, why would he change it if he likes it and he gets the nutrients his body needs? Getting dressed up, brushing the teeth. It's always the same. Even the clothes are simplified to a point where he doesn’t have to choose, they all look almost identical.  

He picks up a simple black t-shirt that he pulls over a long-sleeved white shirt. The jeans are also black and so are the shoes. He doesn’t bother too much with his hair. It doesn’t matter, he is only going to school to study. He lets it be, only fixing some lose strands that are getting into his eyes.  

The same road to the train station. To be fair, he does have some variation here because the highschool is within walk distance, so he isn’t obligated to take the train every day. But it is the first day of school, that means there will be many students walking to school. The beginning of a new school year is always a nice occasion to catch up and chat with the classmates that you couldn’t see during the spring break. However, Yotasuke doesn’t want to bump into anyone and risk to be questioned and to explain how he didn’t do anything fascinating and out of common and be forced to listen to what the others have done. And Yotasuke definitely doesn’t want to run into him. 

This is his senior year in highschool, that means he will be a University student the following year. A new place where he doesn’t know anyone or, more likely, he doesn’t need to know anyone. University students can be pretty independent, he could even move out at some point. The possibilities are endless.  

But he tries to stay in the present timeline: he is a highshcool student and taking the train wasn’t a great idea afterall. It was already filled to the full capacity when Yotasuke got in. He has a small figure, so it is easy for him to slip in small places. However, that means it is also easier for the people around to overlook him and trip over him. He doesn’t enjoy being touched, especially not by strangers. One cannot fully explain how excruciating it is to sense an unknown person’s heat on your body. Two train stations have never been so slow and suffocating. 

“I went to the countryside to visit my grandma,” he hears a girl talking with her friends.“The public transportation is packed, I might be forced to come in late, please excuse me, I will come as quickly as possible,” a businessman on the phone was speaking, most likely, with his superior.  

An advertising song for school supplies was playing on the background while Yotasuke was pressed between strangers. He really doesn’t enjoy public transportation when it is like this. But eventually the train arrives at his stop and the wagon looks so empty after the students leave; he envies those who have regained their personal space. The boy makes a mental note to avoid taking the train for a while, maybe he should get a bicycle. Would that be safe for someone without a driving license?  

Just as he presumed, the school courtyard was rumbling with students heading towards their classes and talking loudly about who knows what. He gets in, removes his shoes and proceeds to go to his own course. His seat is unoccupied, everyone knows that that is his seat. He never made a scene about it before, but somehow, everyone noticed how attached Yotasuke is to his space. From that seat he could see the board without any problems but at the same time he can sneak in his headphones and listen to music during class. He has to sneak because that is not allowed during class. He can’t really make sense of it, he is working and minding his own business without disturbing anyone, it’s a win-win situation for everyone, however, his teachers do not agree.  

“Good morning, everyone! I hope your vacation was good and that you had the opportunity to rest well. Let’s all give our best this year,” the teacher says as an opening. The air becomes easily relaxed as students felt the need to express what they did during their vacation, and everyone was talking at the same time. 

“Please calm down, you will have the opportunity to talk with your classmates during the break,” she continues, seeing the mayhem unveil in front of her. Her voice is calm and makes every student to pay attention to her, “this year is your last year so you have to complete the career forms,” she explains as she distributes the said papers. You could fill 3 options on the survey, depending on your priorities. Many students knew exactly what they wanted to do after, but some were still wondering and unsure about their future, having a backup option is a comforting idea for them.  

“Make sure you bring it signed by a parent. And now, that this is done, let’s start our topic...” the teachers says while returning to the board to write to today’s explanations. Yotasuke did not continue to pay attention, he was analyzing the paper in front of him. He only needs to fill in one box. Oil paint at Tokyo University of the Art, the Geidai. He will be accepted; he is aware he has the skills that are needed and he also has the drive to make him work. His mother always says that Yotasuke has a talent for art but instead of being a compliment, he takes it as an offense. As if he was reduced to just being good at art. That is not correct. He is an honor course student just out of spite from those words his mother said, to prove his more than that, that he has more resources and options to pick from. 

Setting the paper aside in a notebook, so it doesn’t wrinkle, he takes his headphones from his backpack. The first classes are never useful. They are just reminders of what they did in the previous years and what they will use in the next one, therefore he doesn’t need to pay attention for now. Just as he started playing the song on his phone, he realized the volume was too loud and that the people could hear it through the headphones.  

“Takahashi-kun, please, pay attention to the class. I’m sure your phone can wait,” the teacher stops to lecture him. Some of his classmates even turned their head to look at him. But they quickly return to their own notebooks as if nothing has happened. The boy conforms and puts away his phone for the sake of looking outside the window. The weather is sunny and the window frame does capture a beautiful view. A beautiful and comforting view he has gazed at every day for the past 2 years. He sketches it out to continue at home.  

The rest of the classes go without any incident. Yotasuke is a good student, like every single other one of his classmates, they are honor students after all, the only difference is that he has a more unconfined mind that is not appreciated in Japan. 

Japan is too conservative, he thinks on the way home. The streets are filled with highschoolers heading home, the setting sun caresses their faces, making the image looks golden. The day was nearing its end, dark shades of violet mixed with oranges take over the sky, the picture looks like a real-life Monet painting.  

His headphones were so loud, if it wasn’t for the hand on his shoulder, he wouldn’t have noticed him. Hashida Haruka. Art course student. Probably the only person Yotasuke has exchanged any words at school that aren’t about classes or homework. Maybe Yotasuke is antisocial, but this guy is a freak. A complete weirdo engrossed in the study of art.  

“The cherry blossoms are beautiful this year, isn’t that right, Sekai-kun?” Haruka says, looking at Yotasuke with his signature smile.  

“This is what you say every year Hashida-san," replies Yotasuke while removing one headphone, annoyed to be interrupted from his own thoughts.  

“Oh? Is that so?” Hashida asks rhetorically. “Maybe the world is becoming more alluring every year.”  What is wrong with him? why does he have to be acting like this all the time? Yotasuke wonders. Hashida is a very social person that never finds it hard to express himself verbally, unlike Yotasuke – that resorts to music to release his mind from every day’s activities. Talking with people is tiring, you always have to weight your thoughts and opinions and make the right decisions in order to not offend the person in front of you.  

“I highly doubt it,” replied Yotasuke, sounding more like a reflex than a voluntarily act, as if he was already used to disapprove the world’s beauty every time someone was mentioning it.  

“Hey, Sekai-kun, Geidai will hold an exposition at the end of the month, how about we go and check it out together? Just like two art students,” he offers. “Besides, Geidai is your option, isn’t that right?” Hashida asks while waiting for the traffic light to turn green. “It is good to see how students, that have already passed through you steps, are doing.” Just as mentioned before, Hashida is a peculiar individual. He is more interested by the technical parts of a piece of art rather than the piece itself, things like the life of the creator and what made him create those depictions, his views on the world or how his personality can be perceived through a painting.  

“I will give it a thought, Hashida-san,” Yotasuke finishes as they were crossing the road. He was already aware of this exhibition and he already had plans for this week with his family, he wasn’t sure if he could entertain Hashida too, that would be extremely tiring, and he would prefer to analyze the artworks on his own.  

Hashida waves saying goodbye, taking a different turn than Yotasuke. The boy is replying with a hum, looking straight ahead with no interest in being polite to Hashida.  

The moment he steps inside he is welcomed by the household cat, Fumi. Fumi is an old cat with white fur. Yotasuke’s parents noticed his uneasiness around others, so they adopted her, hoping it would help him, which did. It's not like he’d admit it but Fumi is Yotasuke’s highlight of the day. Yotasuke goes straight to his room with Fumi in his arms after greeting his parents. He takes out his pen case and starts the sketch for the scenery he decided on during classes. It is too late to paint so starting the sketch is enough work.  

Recreating an image is easy but art isn’t about recreating. It is about the meaning you give your work. About what ‘does a person can feel when they are looking at your painting’. It doesn’t matter if they love or hate it, as long as it can evoke an emotion. He knows he lacks in that area, Yotasuke doesn’t know how to address feelings, not even his own feelings.  

Every time he tries to paint something remotely calm it ends up as a raged mix of emotions, the final piece is fairly confusing.  

But he will take his time with this painting. He doesn’t feel connected to his school, or anyone or anything in particular – maybe except Fumi – not even art to be honest, but that scenery is important to him. He doesn’t know how to describe the melancholic feeling that fills him up thinking about this being his last year next to that window and being able to watch that view. He goes to sleep thinking about this, hoping the situation will change overnight and that his struggles with emotion expressing will solve themselves. 

The next day the cycle repeats. 6:45 AM, the same breakfast, the same clothes. Today he trades the white undershirt for a stripped black and white one. Does his garderobe look too depressing? His school should adopt a uniform if there is anything wrong with his clothes. 

Walking to school he remembers about the train situation and how it might be the same today, and the next day and probably the day after that too. At the beginning of the school year, after the break, the students aren’t as used to waking up early so they can’t simply walk to school without being late.  

He takes the same road he took yesterday while coming home with Hashida following him. He passes the same cherry blossoms that Haruka said are beautiful. Yotasuke can’t see it. What’s so special about these trees? Why is everyone so happy to see them blossom? Every year thousands of tourists come to Japan only to get a chance to see the special sakura trees. That just seems like an overestimation for what they truly are. Or so Yotasuke thinks, unable to decipher the real beauty these trees hold. For all the people that shared their mutual feelings under a Sakura tree, the friends that have celebrated countless times the arrival of the cherry blossoms, representing their graduation, those that continued to live just to see another cherry blossom tree... 

Once inside the school building, he stumbles across the career form he was given yesterday. He completely forgot to tell his parents about it and to sign it. He sets a reminder on his phone. He has no reason to wait till the last second to return it.  

For the rest of the day Yotasuke engages to his classes. The barely started sketch he has at home is playing somewhere at the back of his head. He will continue it tonight.  

Back at home, Yotasuke is playing with Fumi. She might be old but she’s just as lively and energetic as a kitten. Well, she gets to sleep all day, that might be a leading factor. He hears the clicking sound of the door opening, it must be his mother coming from the market and Yotasuke gets up to greet her.  

“Let me help you with the bags,” he offers. His mother is old so she doesn’t refuse the help when put forward.  

“Thank you, Yota. How was school today?” she asks, the question is a simple routine that she repeats every day.  

“I have this year’s career school form, it is already filled in, please leave your signature so I can submit it,” he asks his mother while putting the groceries in their right place.  

“You are so eager, Yotasuke,” she replies. “You must be excited about University,” she adds. The remark isn’t meant to mean anything but it sparks an ounce of irritation for Yotasuke. He ignores it and he doesn’t reply to his mother’s comment, occupying himself with the groceries.  

“This weekend is Aiko-chan's wedding anniversary. I know you don’t want to come to the after party but you must be present for the performance at least,” his mother says. He didn’t need a reminder because he didn’t forget. His family goes to ballet shows often because of his cousin, it is an undying habit. She has dedicated her entire life to her dancing career, and everyone has cheered on her for it. Dance is a very appreciated thing in this family. If he wouldn’t have been gifted with drawing, and his mother wouldn’t be so eager for him to become an artist, Yotasuke would probably find himself on the stage too. But he was too shy and too uncomfortable, even when visiting Aiko-chan at the studio and watch her rehearse.  

When it comes to family reunions and celebration, he has stopped attending most of them when he realized he can choose for himself. He didn’t like the way everyone would look at him. The last family reunion he attended, Yotasuke made the ‘mistake’ to not wear a costume and go in his casual clothes. Everyone there is fake. He doesn’t want to wear a mask, so why would he dress and act like a person he isn’t just for the sake of socializing? If he were to be forced to be alone for his entire life just because he isn’t conforming to their standards he wouldn’t mind, he was already prepared. 

“I know, I will be coming to watch Nee-san's shows,” Yotasuke replies.  

Inside his room the boy is confronted by the piece he started a day earlier. He looks at it thinking he should continue his work but the feeling isn’t right. Maybe he should do his schoolwork before starting to work with the oil paint. It would be a bad idea to start working on it only to take a break in the middle to do his homework. Yes, that’s right. He should do his work and then he'll be able to work on this piece.  

In the end Yotasuke finished his schoolwork, but the right feeling never come. He went to sleep.  

The next day will be the one.  

The next day wasn’t the one.  

He just keeps looking at the canvas. There are only some quick drawn pen lines and it feels as if they are staring back at him. Intense and scary. Art can be like this. It doesn’t matter how much you love it, there will always be times when you can’t muster the energy to hold even the thinnest brush and stark stroking your canvas.  

Yotasuke keeps gazing at it without any thoughts passing through his brain, besides the frustration that he doesn’t know how to start. Every time he thinks he understood the idea he wants to put into this drawing something blocks him and he goes back to staring at its emptiness. It is bumming, infuriating. He can’t be blocked on one piece like this forever, he must practice for his admission exam. The boy picks it up and props it between the wall and his book shelves. This way it won't be as obvious and the piece won’t continue to stare at him, judging him for leaving it incomplete. He occupies himself with the Switch for the rest of the day. 

Chapter Text

“I’m pretty sure you have better clothes than these,” his mother complains. “That t-shirt has holes, what will our family think about you? You should be more self-aware at your age, you aren’t a child anymore, Yotasuke.” Yotasuke doesn’t bother to answer, he’s trying his best to not listen either. He regrets not bringing his headphones. He doesn’t care about his clothes, but hearing his mother voice her critiques makes his anxiety rise. It's the same for him to wear a suit or a faded shirt, the difference is what the others see. In the end, people will judge him for anything. And for information, those holes are part of the t-shirt’s design.   

The ride isn’t long. Somehow there wasn't any traffic jam between their home and Ueno. He keeps glancing outside the car window. It is raining outside, a melancholic atmosphere, the kind of weather the art enthusiasts love. One could do so many things while it’s raining outside: read a book, paint a drawing, listen to music or even go to the Opera house and watch ballet with your imperious family. Despite finding these familial obligations a bit too much and unnecessary, he does love his cousin and he does want to support her.   

After all, the two are quite similar. People used to mistake them for sibling. Aiko has the same black hair and deep blue eyes just like Yotasuke. Despite not going to dance classes himself, there is some sort of satisfying fluidity to Yotasuke’s movements that conceals his clumsiness. But the two have 2 different ways to live. Yotasuke is about being himself, even if that puts him in a bad light in front of people. He doesn’t fancy being on anyone’s good side if that means he has to change the way he is. Aiko, however, has been a model child. She has taken her dance seriously from the beginning. She is trying to – maybe a bit too much – to fulfill the ideal that the family set.   

The ambiance is calm at Tokyo Bunka Kaikan, everyone is settled in their assigned seats and voices could be heard whispering, low and too afraid of breaking the silence. They are discussing the staging about to take place. 

The piece is a new one, it was written by a contemporary writer for a special ballerina that will play in the main role. It is the first time Yotasuke will see it too.   

The first scene depicts a woman, alone on the stage, dancing on a slow rhythm. The costume is a simple long-sleeved yellow leotard with turtleneck and white tights. Nothing grandiose. Her hair isn’t tied up in a bun, but let free. Would that be optimal for the dancer? Most likely not, it might make the work harder. Atypical. The moves aren’t the traditional combination of pirouettes and the habitual variations either. She is dancing on herself, avoiding to look at the audience, creating an atmosphere that is meant to give away the feeling of solitude and uncertainty.   

She reaches one corner of the stage, standing still with the back to the watchers. Does she have stage fright? I suppose not, because for the next move she returns to the public with a most intense attitude a ballet dancer could have. Oh, she’s good. The following moves are a nice mix of spins and jumps.   

A man in a grey costume appears from behind the curtain and joins her. At first his movements are timid, unsure, but the more he crosses the podium the braver his moves become, and then he reaches the woman. The two stop to face each other. For a moment they stop dancing and just act, making their characters come to life. It is quite common in ballet. They mirror each other’s movements; the man rises his hand with the palm open and the woman does the same. They touch hands and what comes next is a pas de deux that can’t really be described as ballet. 

There are indeed moves Yotasuke recognizes from previous performances, — a couple of jetés and assemblés, attitude poses and the like — but the outcome is not that of a classic piece. Is this what contemporary dance look like? 

Then, a crowd of dancers bursts on the stage and joins them. Their costume is different than the first two. The color is black. They're just the people you meet every day, but don’t interact enough to consider a part of your life. Classmates you didn’t keep in touch with, workmates, the persons you see every morning in the bus station. They look like an army that marches in sync. Everyone is the same but each one of them is a singular person that can experience the same story as the main character from their own perspective. And the contrast between the corps and the characters adds to it. It is a pleasing picture to see this much order and disorder at the same time.  It is like a society, wait, Yotasuke thinks he understands this scene. It’s about living your own singularity in a society. You might think of yourself as special, as an individual, but in a group, you are just another number.   

While Yotasuke was focused on his analyze of the performance something did happen between the man and the woman because now, instead of dancing together they are separating. Even the corps de ballet is out of sync and everyone is dancing at their own pace. From the body language it looks like an argument. The man returns backstage while the woman continues her act for the public.   

Four more dancers appear in front of the scene – were they always on the stage? – the background dancers are dissolving and leaving the stage. The newcomers are dressed in the same style as the previous background dancers but their clothes are tinted: red, green, orange and blue.  

Red for passion and anger, green for envy and hope, orange for new beginnings and blue for peace and confidence. Color theory. Despite the story being a cheesy take on a love story at least they got the colors right.  

Then it’s a pas de quatre. It's a dance for four people. Allegro style, that mean the music is quick, and their steps match the rhythm. What's atypical about this piece is that, despite being a dance that’s usually identical for each person in classical pieces, the dancers on the stage seem to have a little variation, representing each emotion. 

One by one, in that order, every color dancer does a duet with the protagonist, showing the public that after every heartbreak, no matter how long your rage – red – is, blue will always be there at the end, waiting for your hand to guide.   

Yotasuke would’ve been too caught into his own thoughts with his take on the piece if something, someone, didn’t catch his eyes.  

The blue dancer isn’t like the other ones.  

Sure, he shouldn’t. Every emotion is a different one, but it isn’t about the choreography. The way he is dancing is different. He has a special charisma. Something that makes Yotasuke glue his eyes on his. It’s all about his contrast with the previous dancers, yes, that should be the reason Yotasuke is so engrossed in his movements. He is bursting with a distinct energy, so foreign to that stage. Yet his movements seem delicate. It's like Yotasuke can hear his thoughts, feel his personality. Physically, the dancer is on the stage, and Yotasuke is in the crowd, but the later feels as if they are the only people in the room. The dancer being there for him only. Communicating without words…  

His mother glances at him and, for the first time, notices Yotasuke being absorbed in the act. Is he even blinking?   

The last scene of the dance, blue lifts the woman in the air, she opens her arms wide, the lights are turned off, fog appears on the stage. The audience is in complete darkness, unaware of what is happening. Then, the lights are turned on again, like an explosion, focusing on the main character-whose clothes look black now due to the light effects – meaning that the woman is just another person in the group now, without any distinctive traits.  

He could hear the elders talking about how profound and touching the show was. Overall, the performance didn’t even have a unique theme. There are thousands of books and movies with the same idea. However, Yotasuke was so engrossed in the last part with the blue dancer that he didn’t notice his cousin. Was she even there on the stage?    

“What did you think, Yotasuke?” his mother asks, “Aiko-chan choreographed this piece.” She wasn’t on the stage.  

“That is true, mother, she did another splendid job, just as usual,” he replies, without much consent. 

In his mind, he is still replaying the moments he saw the last dancer. The fluidity of his body, the way he could speak without making a sound. That is not what average ballet looks like. This boy is good, better than the dancers Yotasuke saw, or maybe this is what he thinks, after all he is not an expert, he didn’t do more than 5 dance classes himself. How much did he train to get on that level?   

“Yotasuke, we will go and meet with the rest of the family, you should at least go and congratulate Aiko-san if you are not joining us,” his father says. The man doesn’t speak a lot but when he does, he inflicts some sort of fear on whoever is listening. Extremely low. Yotasuke replies with a simple nod to that. It is the most logical thing to do, he doesn’t want to be disrespectful towards her.  

There aren’t many persons left on his row, people are already leaving. He takes his jacket and heads towards the exit too.  

He texts his cousin to let her know he will be coming to see her, so that the security will allow him backstage. Yotasuke gets out of the building and takes a turn, going through a lateral alley to enter the back door, it looks empty and dark. The rain has stopped, all that was left was a cool, moist breeze.   

Aiko was waiting for him with a soft smile on her lips and her hands crossed across her chest. She was tired but she hid it to avoid burdening anyone. Yotasuke greets her with a low bow.   

“That was a spectacular performance Nee-san, just as usual,” Yotasuke says, facing her.  

“Aah, cut it out, Yotasuke-chan, you don’t have to be this formal,” she says, continuing to smile and waving her hand up and down to give away that she didn’t consider it necessarily for Yotasuke to act like that.  “Not with me”. She always had this motherly aura towards Yotasuke, as if she felt obligated to being his older sister.   

“Yes...” Yotasuke hums unconsciously. He didn’t know how to formulate the words he went there for. How does one tell someone that they do not wish to join their wedding anniversary party because their family has ruined every joy that could come with it?   

“You are not coming, that’s right?” did she really read his mind? No, of course not, telepathy doesn’t exist, it’s you, you are antisocial, and everyone knows it, thought Yotasuke. He looks at the ground for a few seconds, trying to avoid eye contact.   

“No, I am truly sorry if that is offending you. I will try to make up for it,” Yotasuke replies. Still looking at the ground, feeling guilty for his behavior. 

“I am not offended, and you do not have to make up to me, Yotasuke-chan. Please take your time,” Aiko counters, putting a hand on his shoulder and making him face her. She might the only person in his family that doesn’t force him to anything and that accepts him the way he is. There is nothing wrong with Yotasuke after all. 

“Thank you,” he replies. He does a small head nod. “I will get going then, I’m sure you still have stuff to do and I shouldn’t hold you any longer. Please send my good thoughts to your husband, I am sorry for not being able to meet him in person tonight,” he says. Aiko replies with a bow. She must get prepared for the reunion and Yotasuke has to go home, it was already dark outside. 

He walks the same hall he came through and goes out the same backdoor into the same lateral alley. He must go to the train station since his parents aren’t going to drive him home.  

When he opens the door, he sees a tall silhouette leaning on the wall, clouds of smoke surround it. Yotasuke inspects the person, intrigued by the unhealthy habit.  

It was him. Blue. Out all alone.  

He is smoking?  A ballet dancer is smoking? Aren't they supposed to keep their bodies in good health? It is cold outside, his hair is damp, and he isn’t wearing something to warm him up. Isn’t that too carefree for someone like him?  

At the sound of the opened door, the dancer turns his head towards the door, facing Yotasuke. The stranger gives him a smile, but Yotasuke doesn’t reply, no body movement, nor word would come out of his mouth. He doesn’t even make eye contact for long with the stranger. He closes the door and heads straight to the station across the road with the intent to go home.  

There's no reason to waste any more time, it is late and he is tired. Yes, this is true. Taking the train is longer than being inside a car, maybe because a train must stop for every station to let passengers in and out?  

Scenes from the performance are still playing inside Yotasuke’s head, about the skilled dancer. All too brutal and authentic. Inside his pockets, his hands are tingling, itching to hold a pen. The fluidity of the dancer’s movements crosses his mind. A rush of adrenaline hits his body. He wants to create something on that level, to draw something that screams without making a sound. Something that can reach the viewer and drag them inside the canvas. Why can’t this train move faster?   

Yotasuke doesn’t excel in physical activities but he sure was fast to get home from the train station. He removes his jacket, leaving it somewhere on the hall floor because he was too focused to get inside his room and start creating. His yearning to be drawing right now was burning up inside him. He goes straight for the pen case, takes a f15 empty canvas and props it on the easel. Immediately after, he starts sketching.  

He is moving his pencil over the white cloth with such speed and precision. He is drunk on painting. His passion about this work makes him overlook the pressure he puts on the lead and ends up breaking it multiple times, making the actual artistic process last longer than it normally should, annoying. But he continues working, switching with other pencils that are already prepared. 

After he is satisfied with the composition he goes for the colored paints. He takes out the yellow one. He mixes it with oranges and red, these colors speak to him right now, they inspire passion, they scream rage, this piece will definitely stand out. He is furiously stroking the canvas, putting all his emotions into each move. He tries to mimic the way the boy he saw on the stage was expressing himself. So freely and wild. He must learn how to recreate that.  

As the time passes Yotasuke could feel his adrenaline slowing down. He realizes his back hurts. His eyes are tired, his arm is cramping and he is hungry. Fumi might want to spend time with him too. He decides that maybe he should stop for the night, he checks the time. 

….  

Crap.   

“It is … 3AM? HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN PAINTING?” he almost shouts in shock. No one is replying to him. Yotasuke collects his abandoned coat, makes himself a quick snack and lets Fumi sleep with him. The newly finished painting is drying on the chevalet while the abandoned one is still hidden between the furniture.  

The next day, Yotasuke wakes up later than usual. It might be an insignificant change but for Yotasuke it is irritating. It is Saturday, he doesn’t have classes, nor any plans with anyone but that doesn’t mean he should break his patterns, that’s careless. He groggily stands up and starts doing his usual morning habits. Fumi wasn’t inside his room, did his parents open his door during the night? No, he left the door open last night. The painting he did yesterday is still on the easel next to his desk.  

It is standing out.  

But it lacks.  

It looks like a Mona Lisa imitation made by a very passionate da Vinci fan. Looking at it makes Yotasuke feel embarrassed and foolish. He tried to copy someone else. Art is not made like that. His painting isn’t raw or unique. Yotasuke takes it and puts it next to the other finished ones. Another brand-new canvas and replaces it on the easel. Today he must draw a new picture, without trying to replicate anyone this time, if he plans on improving enough for the exam. 

He goes out of his room and checks the volume inside his house. He doesn’t know if his parents are awake or not. They must be asleep because the house is soundless. He takes Fumi and goes to the living room to play with her.  

He is petting Fumi but his eyes do not see the white fur. The adrenaline might’ve left his body, however, he is still in art mode and wants to put those ideas down on the paper. He ignores the urge for the sake of his cat. She has fallen asleep purring in his lap and it would break his heart to disturb her. He doesn't know how to name it yet, but he is feeling something different inside him. Thinking about the previous night, a foreign feeling was awakened. But why? He can’t quite tell, yet. 

For the rest of the day Yotasuke doesn’t do much. He starts and finishes a new painting. It sends out the same impression as the one he did the night before. Standing out for an untrained eye but incomplete for the artist. Art is not a straight line where every drawing is better than the previous one, he understands that. Even so, it is frustrating to see that you are doing no progress, caught in the same mistakes without an idea on how to break free. 

The next day: the same result 

So is the day after 

…and the day after that  

For the next two weeks Yotasuke produces a series of very unsatisfying paintings. Every time he looks at them, he can’t understand the missing factor. He hates it. And what is more annoying is that his mother even praises some of them. It is not even that good, mom. But his mother doesn’t have the same views as him. He is not self critical or insecure. He simply knows that these drawings are deficient. 

This sucks he thinks while he reviews the latest piece he finished. This must end. Now.  

End of April. It is dark outside, the only light source in his room is the street lamp light coming in through the window. He was preparing for bed when he sees his phone screen lightening up. 

[ Hashida ] : Hello Sekai-kun 

[ Yotasuke ] : I regret giving you my contact information 

[ Hashida ] : You don’t have to be this mean 

[ Hashida ] : You will hurt my feelings 

[ Yotasuke ] : Why are you texting me, Hashida-san? 

[ Hashida ] : Did you consider my offer?  

[ Yotasuke ] : The exposition?  

[ Hashida ] : Yes 

[ Yotasuke ] : I think I can 

[ Yotasuke ] : make some time for 

[ Yotasuke ] : it. 

[ Hashida ] : Great! 

[ Hashida ] : It’s a date then ~ 

Yotasuke squints at his screen. Why does he always have to make things so weird? he was wondering. His phone pinged one more time. Hashida sent him a rose emoji. Oh god... He threw away his phone and went to sleep. That was enough for that day. He hopes he won’t dream Hashida, sure, he is blunt and insensible, but he didn’t hurt anyone physically to be tortured like that in his sleep.  

Hashida texted him the date and the hour they should go. Yotasuke didn’t have any preferences since he doesn’t have a booked schedule filled with people to see and please.  

Saturday morning, 9AM, Taito  

It is close to the University campus, in fact it is just 5 minutes away from where Yotasuke is waiting for Hashida. Why did he even bother to come early, he should’ve known Hashida will be late. He is always late.  

The street is filled with people minding their own business, doing who knows what. Who are they? Why are they out right now? Where are they going? Where is their home? Do they live alone or is there someone to welcome them when they return home? Yotasuke is contemplating about how could each individual go through their day. But then he remembers the piece he saw at the beginning of the month with his parents. That contemporary one with the cheesy story and inevitably he remembers him. Blue... Why did he have to remember this right now? 

“Sekai-kuuun~” his line of thoughts is interrupted. Hashida has finally decided to show up. 

“You really do take your time, Hashida-san,” Yotasuke cuts him short.  

He has waited enough time for his hands to become stiff from the cold. His B6 notebook is inside the jacket pocket. He has brought it thinking that he might be able to see something inspiring and draw some compositions he could use to break his current situation with art. He hasn’t touched his art materials for a few days already in favor of the Switch. Every time he tried to start something he remembers the sour taste the previous paintings left him with. It's like a Pavlovian conditioning, causing him to hate art,  his art.   

“You don’t have to be this mean, you can’t rush perfection,” Hashida replies with a hand flick and his usual sly smile. It fits his facial structure so well.  

They enter the building and proceed to the exhibition floor. Despite being an exhibition for the oil painting department there are a lot of non-painting art object. I guess you can do whatever you want at university, no limit imposed.  

This one is just a white plastic chair with some green paint and a dog sculpture. What’s this thing’s meaning? Does it  even  have a meaning? On the other side of the room, a collection of portraits of different people painted in different colors is sitting on an entire wall. If you look closely at everyone you can see that each face is a collage made by smaller versions of all the portraits on the wall.  

The next room has an assortment of different sized stones in front of 3 paintings with dandelions. A black and white painting of flamingoes stands next to one that Yotasuke thinks would fit the Japanese painting section better. But again, the exhibition doesn’t give the impression that the students were forced to conform to oil painting.  

Where is Hashida? That's no problem, the bigger the distance between him and Yotasuke, the less annoying Hashida is.  

“What do you think, Sekai-kun?” of course he wasn’t far away. Not far enough. Hashida creeps beside Yotasuke that was looking at an abstract painting which can be interpreted either as a flame or a dragon. Maybe a flame dragon. 

“It’s fine. It’s not that bad.” Yotasuke answers, facing Hashida now instead of the painting. 

“You don’t seem too convinced. Maybe we should go for something more exciting, her room.” Hashida suggests with a weird attitude. Is he getting aroused thinking about art? Please don’t...  

“Kuwana-san has an entire room for herself?” Yotasuke asks. It is quite unusual for students to have so much space, even one entire wall is a lot. But Yuki Kuwana isn’t a common student either. She has succeeded the admission exam and entered Geidai a couple of years prior them directly out of highschool with top results. It must be in her blood, her entire family has attended Geidai after all.   

“No, of course not, the university wouldn’t allow that. But she does have a lot of artworks exposed,” Hashida responds. This room is right next to the one they were in at that moment.  

Surprisingly enough, the room is almost empty, except for three persons. Two women and a man. They are talking and laughing, they must know each other.  

Yotasuke proceeds to watch the exhibits on display. The walls are black and the light is low. The kind of décor you can see in most art exhibitions that doesn’t stand out. This room is different, he can feel that the quality is contrasting. These painting are all abstract. Shadows of people, mixes of colors, that one looks like an explosion.  

A drawing filled with different shaped animals is what catches Yotasuke’s eyes. The paint is simple but impactful. Is it the color choice? The contrast? The composition? No, of course not, those are just tools, and a good drawing isn’t made plainly by tools. It's the feeling that it expresses and Yotasuke’s love for animals that make him feel captivated.   

Someone comes next to him. If it’s Hashida then his mood will be destroyed. He doesn’t want to heal his blabber about whatever explanation he has for this painting. 

“Do you like animals?” it isn’t Hashida. It's a woman’s voice. Taken aback by the sudden interaction, Yotasuke turn his head to look at her. She is also looking at the same painting, long black hair blocks her face. Wait, isn’t it...? 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I might've startled you. It is rude to interrupt someone from watching a painting they like.” she continues, turning to face Yotasuke. “I’m Yuki Kuwana, I did those paintings right there” she points to another part of the room. Yotasuke looks around. He didn’t look around the room when he first entered, why would he? He came to look at art, not at people or the decor. 

Now that he peers over, he sees Hashida talking with the other 2 persons that were already inside the room with Yuki in front of another painting, the area where Yuki said her artworks are. A girl and a boy. The girl is short and has curly ombre hair. The boy is tall, but shorter than Hashida. He wears a beanie but platinum blonde hair can be seen creeping out.  

He must’ve felt Yotasuke looking at him. He returns to see who’s staring back. 

Wait  

No.  

Wait....  

Yotasuke is startled. The person talking with Hashida is none other than blue.  

Why is he here? He's a ballet dancer, of course he has to be educated about other areas of art too, Yotasuke thinks.  

He turns his eyes away from him as soon as he makes eye contact with the stranger. Panic fills his body. The kind of one that inflicts a pain somewhere inside your stomach then is followed by a rush of adrenaline.  

He remembers that there’s a person next to him and about the question left unanswered.  

“I’m Takahashi Yotasuke, nice to meet you. Uhhmmm...” he starts, looking for the fit words. “Animals are an interesting motif for art. It usually represents the artist’s inability to connect with other people,” the sentence is short and straight to the subject. Is it too rude?  

“That’s right,” Yuki beams “but this guy is a social butterfly at university so it’s not always that deep,” she chuckles. She doesn’t seem to be discouraged by Yotasuke’s cold personality. “Do you like art, Takahashi-kun?” she asks. 

“I guess,” Yotasuke replies, he isn’t sure if he should give a proper answer where he explains that he is also aiming for studying art at University, she might be a Geidai student but, to him, she is just a stranger and she doesn't need to know anything about his life. He doesn’t really know how to act around people or how to make short conversation.  

“I like art very much, drawing or even watching others’ art pieces, I find it relaxing,” she continues, more for herself than for Yotasuke. She continues to talk about her passion for art. Yotasuke glances at the unknown dancer from time to time. Praying that he wouldn’t notice. Yotasuke doesn’t know how to face him, if he should talk to him or anything. 

After a long monologue Yuki wishes him a good day and leaves to join the 2 while Hashida comes next to him. He seems to be in a good mood, a very suspicious good mood. 

“Hey Sekai-kun, should we continue our tour?” Yotasuke doesn't care to ask what is going on with him and compels with the proposal, Hashida will tell him anyway. The rest of the exhibit is just as mediocre as the beginning. There isn’t anything memorable about the pieces to Yotasuke’s disappointment. 

“Kuwana-san is so cute, just seeing her made my eyes relax. I feel like I could go right home and paint a masterpiece,” Hashida says on the way home. 

“Isn’t she too old for you?” Yotasuke asks, not very interested in the answer.  

“I meant her sister. And being in a relationship with an older woman is nothing wrong, Sekai-kun," Hashida counters. Yotasuke looks up at him and he swears he can see flowers around his head. “She and her friend came to support her sister, the Geidai artist, isn’t that sweet of them?”  

“Is that so?” Yotasuke asks. Getting an answer to one of his questions from earlier about the dancer.  

“They are dance students, maybe we should go to watch them sometime.” Hashida carries on. “They said they do ballet. Your cousin is a ballet dancer, isn’t that right, Sekai-kun?” 

“Yes,” Yotasuke replies shortly. 

“Do you think she could give you some tickets, with a good view maybe?” the taller boy pleads.  

“Don’t you think you’re asking for too much?” Yotasuke says. “I’ll see what I can do.” His cousin always gave them tickets whenever they asked for them, that wouldn’t be a problem, but Yotasuke isn’t sure he wants to go watch ballet with Hashida. Could that be worse than the times he goes with his family? He is hesitant to test it to find out. 

Their ways part and Yotasuke goes home. He remembers his sketchbook, forgotten inside his jacket pocket. He takes it out and sketches something quick. Three people in front of a huge painting. 

“Hey, Nee-san...” 

Chapter Text

Yotasuke has never considered it but maybe he is a masochist. Otherwise, he can’t quite explain to himself why he accepted to hang out with Hashida a second time within a week. It's their first time watching ballet together. Giselle.  

Giselle is about a simple and innocent country girl that loves to dance. Count Albrecht notices her and decides he wants to pursue her love, disguising himself as a fellow country folk as to not scare her away. But, you see, this guy was already engaged to the princess. Herlion, another man in love with Giselle finds out about his rival and tells Giselle the truth about the Count. The poor girl dies from the heartbreak.  

The second act is about her afterlife. She is depicted as a wili, magical entities in the Slavic folklore representing the girls that died before their marriage. Herlion, is seen mourning at Giselle's grave. The other wilis notice and invite him to dance. They dance so much that the man dies from exhaustion. Then that royalty, Albrecht, he comes to mourn Giselle too. The wilis want to take his life too but Giselle's spirit appears and protects him. In the end the guy is left alone with his sorrow, but his life is saved because Giselle still loves him.  

It is one of the most popular ballet pieces. It was first performed in 1841 in Paris, France, one of the homelands of ballet. Ever since the first display, the dance was considered a masterpiece, and this is why it is till played even after 180 years. Yotasuke already saw it, Aiko played every role in it through the years and, of course, Yotasuke had to go and watch it every time.  

But, before he gets ready to leave for the show Yotasuke struggles with the canvas in front of him. He knows he must work. He had a rush of inspiration after the Geidai exposition, but right now he is running slow on it. Next week he will return to cram school. He only goes to it because it is expected from you to attend one if you plan on getting into a good university. There, he knows he will be forced to draw according to a specific outlook, so Yotasuke tries to use his time left in the most efficient way. 

The sheet in front of him is not an oil painting. He is doing dessin. A technique where you have to reproduce the object in front of you from the angle you see it and try to be as precise as possible.  

On his desk there are 3 highlighters and a few notebooks spread around. Still life. The thing is, the shape is correct, but is the texture just? Is the light hitting the drawing the same way it is hitting the actual object? Doesn't the plastic look a bit more curved than it actually is? Questions like this haven’t left Yotasuke’s head for 20 minutes already. Is he overthinking? Yes, he is. 

He takes the piece of paper and puts it in the folder, next to the other dessin studies. He must take a shower and get dressed. He assumes Hashida wouldn’t dare to be late for a performance the same way he normally is for everything else.  

Yotasuke goes for a white Pokemon shirt and, surprisingly, blue jeans. When was the last time he didn’t wear black? He puts on a green hoodie, plugs his headphones in and goes out the door. 

“No, Fumi, you can’t come,” he says as he pushes the cat that was sticking her head outside the door, back inside the house. That's what every cat does. They want to go outside and once they’re outside they want to go inside. Troublemakers. 

Outside, the weather is nice. Just a chill evening, unexpectedly calm for Tokyo. He takes the train to the Ueno station, right in front of the Tokyo Bunka Kaikan, situated in the Ueno park and, of course, close to Geidai. 

“There you are,” Hashida hoots.  

“I wasn’t ready for this sight. I don’t think I would ever be if it didn’t just happen. Let me add it to my calendar so I can commemorate it yearly. You, Hashida Haruka, waiting for me,” Yotasuke ironically notices. “Are you this eager to see this the performance?” he asks while rising one eyebrow. People are passing them, many entering the Opera building.  

“You don’t get the chance to see ballet with Takahashi Yotasuke every day. Let’s say I got a little thrilled,” Hashida counters, never losing his signature smile. Yotasuke rolls his eyes, and they enter the hall without any more comments. They pass the lobby and take the stairs to the fourth floor, where Yotasuke’s cousin could find the tickets. Neither him nor Hashida did complain, buying the tickets right before the performance came with a higher price than usual. Usually, Yotasuke’s family is informed by Aiko about the stages in time for them to pay the best price before it goes up, sometimes they even book the performance months in advance. 

Yotasuke takes his headphones off and looks around. The room has 2303 places, but it looks packed. Everyone around them wears the same fancy clothes his family wears when they go out. But Yotasuke knows that his mother doesn’t wear a classy dress when she’s at home, nor his father wears a tuxedo when he comes back from work. Everyone is just trying to appear something they aren’t. Yotasuke is already used to it. 

Hashida is Hashida. His outfit isn’t the kind that Yotasuke would wear but it’s not the same as anyone else in that room either. Apparently, he came dressed in his usual clothes. Yotasuke won’t admit it, but he appreciates that in him. 

There it is. The sudden silence that precedes every performance.  

Everyone stops talking, not even whispering can be heard for a few minutes and then, the orchestra starts playing. The curtain is drawn and reveals the dancers. They are mainly teenagers. It is a performance hosted by a school after all.  

During the show Yotasuke noticed how enchanted Hashida was with it, he was probably more interested in the tragedy that left 2 people dead and another one heartbroken than the dance itself, but he did pay close attention. Yotasuke noticed Maki, she was part of the corps de ballet for the village and the wili scenes. Yotasuke noticed how Hashida couldn’t detach his eyes from Maki whenever she was on the stage. And Yotasuke noticed that he wasn’t present on that stage, at all. 

He couldn’t explain why but he felt a bit beaten down. It's not like he went out that night especially for him but seeing him wouldn’t.... hurt. 

“Hey, Sekai, what did you think?” Hashida asks in the train home. 

“It is not the first time seeing it. Giselle is very old and very famous, so it didn’t bring any novelty into my life,” he replies, putting a lot of accent on very.  

“Kuwana-san was very skilled; her variations were perfect,” he continues, looking at his reflection in the window. It was dark outside so the window was more like a mirror than a mirror but he could see the strong lights from afar, Tokyo never sleeps. 

“Why are you mentioning Kuwana-san?” Hashida asks with a confused expression on his face. Even a child could recognize it was theatrical.  

“Just so,” Yotasuke huffs. He trades the window for the floor. It is curiously clean. The little dark gray specs, part of the design, and the white background catch Yotasuke’s attention.  

“Hey, Sekai, are you… alright?” Hashida asks. He was worried about his friend’s change of attitude. Yotasuke would always have some sharp remark to use for anything Hashida says or does, but, tonight, the boy is silent. A sad silence.  

At that Yotasuke jumps and looks up at him. Was his mood that obvious? His eyes widen, in a surprised way, frowns and turns his head away. “You creep.” He scoops his headphone case from his hoodie pocket and starts playing some music, loud enough that he doesn’t hear what Hashida says, he only sees his lips moving in the window reflexion.  

For that night, Yotasuke doesn’t exchange any more words with Haruka. He only nods when he sees him leaving the train.  

At home, Yotasuke is confronted with nothing but silence. Not even Fumi comes to welcome him. It was already late when the performance ended and it’s not like Ueno is close to his house, taking the train took a lot of time. His parents must be asleep and let Fumi sleep with them.  

He goes to his room and collapses on the futon. He looks around. It is dark and he is left alone with his thoughts. It is not a good combination. It is never a good thing to be left alone with your thoughts when you are tired. 

Where was he? Why didn’t he perform today? He is a dance student but what if he doesn't go to the same school as Maki? Maybe something did happen to him? Why does Yotasuke even care?  

He removes his headphones and hoodie and prepares for bed. When your head isn’t in the right mood the best thing is to sleep it away. Gladly, the sleep comes right away. The next day everything will be normal, 6:45 AM, same breakfast, same black clothes, same school road. Yotasuke’s dejected mood won’t last.  

The next time he and Hashida went to watch ballet, the mysterious dancer was right there, on stage.   

Le Corsaire. Ali.  

That's a big change, going from not dancing at all in the previous piece to being one of the main characters with a big and important variation. 

Just like the first time Yotasuke saw him, his fingertips were craving, empty and tingling without a pen to hold. His mind, drunk on inspiration with thoughts that needed to be expressed on paper.  

The third time, Hashida asks Yotasuke to join him a get along.  

“Say, Sekai-kun, wouldn’t you like to meet Maki-chan and Yaguchi-kun? I promise they are fun people,” Hashida offers on the way home from school. “We could hang out and have some fun before we have to go to cram school full time.”  

His name is Yaguchi.  

“Absolutely not. It's enough that I see you at school and Tobi and now you invade my off time too,” Yotasuke cuts him off. He comes off colder than he planned to, but he doesn’t care to excuse himself, what he said is true.   

It kind of fits him.  

“Are you sure, Sekai?” Hashida tries one more time. “Are you so eager to work from morning to evening for University preparations, without even a bit of fun before?” He was talking about the incoming summer and how their classes will be longer.  

Shut up already, I’m trying to think.  

“Yes,” Yotasuke deadpans. “I thought you were more interested in creating art. But it seems that I was wrong,” he continues, side-eyeing Hashida with furrowed eyebrows.  

Hashida chuckles. “Don’t take me for a carefree person, Sekai. I do take art very seriously,” he defends himself. He stops in front of a bookstore “I’m afraid we have to separate earlier today, I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”  

Yotasuke nods instead of waving or saying goodbye or anything remotely polite and continues his walk home. He assumes Hashida is there to buy some sort of bizarre book about some obscure painter life. That or hentai. And Yotasuke doesn’t want to join Hashida on his hentai hunt. 

The bell rings and he hears Hashida’s name out loud.  

“Heeeyyy Hashida-saaaan!!" 

He doesn’t know why, but he turns his head.  

And he whishes he hadn’t.   

The other one has noticed him too and now he is waving at Yotasuke. Hashida is also looking at him, expecting him to join the conversation. 

Yotasuke turns on his heels and goes straight home.  

There was something that bugged him about his reaction. He ignores it. 

By the forth time, he has gotten into the habit of carrying a sketchbook with him to every performance he went to.   

He would arrive at home with a head full of inspiration after every performance. But he’d forget some of his ideas. Which is pretty annoying. You can’t predict how good a piece can end up being before you finish it. But you know there won’t be any masterpieces if you don’t even start it. 

He tried to be discreet with the it but he’d often end up sketching in his seat or in the train home.  

It is said that ballet is a dance for girls but most of Yotasuke’s drawings depict men.  

If Hashida thought anything was suspicious he didn’t mention it. Yotasuke was already ready with an answer if he did. It was anatomy study. There couldn’t be a better opportunity to study the human body flexibility than analyzing a dancer. Right?  Right?  

And by the fifth time, Yotasuke noticed he has neglected every other aspect of art other than human sketches and paintings.   

Time can be so cruel once you realize how fast it is moving and how there’s no chance for you to stop it or return in the past and correct some mistakes. It was already July and the summer vacation was just around the corner. Yotasuke is in his room, curtains wide open to allow the sunlight to penetrate his dark room. Neatly organized canvases sit in one corner. He should take them to the basement, they don’t do anything but occupy precious space here. The painting on the easel is almost done.  

A human figure, a jump, a white sparkly vest, hair flying around, a male subject. 

The boy found himself reaching for the sketchbook a little more often in his free time. And without realizing, each drawing would resemble the others. 

“Yotasuke-kun, you can’t continue like this, drawing the same motifs won’t take you too far, no matter how passionate you are about it,” he remembers Matsuo sensei’s words from earlier that day.  

“I know,” Yotasuke exhales out loud, desperate and alone in his room, rubbing his face to destress. 

He is all too aware that over-focusing on one thing in art means you’ll undoubtedly miss on other areas. He must work on other tasks than just his little silly dance inspired drawings, or he’ll never improve enough for the exam. He has talent and skills, sure, but no one passes just because of raw potential. 

The next day he doesn’t wake up at 6:45AM.  

He gets up, stuffs his sketchbook and a pencil case inside his hoodie and takes the train to the Harajuku station with the intent to go to Yoyogi park. He doesn’t even take his headphones, he won’t need them, the park is silent enough in the morning. 

Just 30 minutes away by foot from the Shibuya station, the place is huge. There is even a temple, Meiji Jingu, the biggest and most famous shrine in Tokyo. But Yotasuke isn’t a pilgrim with the purpose to go to the sanctuary, nor does he have the wish to wander the neon light streets of Shibuya. He needs to cool off his mind and the morning silence of the park is the only place where he could find the peace he needs.  

The sun isn’t fully risen when he arrives. Despite being summer, the morning is still cold. The chilly breeze is making Yotasuke’s hands rigid. It is summer. He rubs them together while searching for a place to sit. The only people present at that hour are dog walkers and runners.Yotasuke sets for a picnic bench next to a streetlamp. Different kind of trees and bushes are surrounding it. It’s a good place for resting and observing.  

He doesn’t start drawing right off the bat. He is still looking around, analyzing and trying to get in the right mood.  

He sat like that for around 10 minutes before he sees a peculiar red light moving through the dim light. A little chihuahua, the kind that has long fluffy fur around his neck and ears. Its little feet are moving so fast, and it looks as if the dog didn’t touch the ground. Adorable, he must portray it.  

Then, he decides to draw a tree stump. Theme? None, he only came for a quick brainstorm to get him out of the slump. Even the grass could be an interesting drawing, grass doesn’t necessarily have a specific pattern but because people come often in this park to hang out and sit on it, the grass has acquired an interesting look. 

“Can I sit here?” a foreign voice directs him, making Yotasuke stop his hand movements and look up. It is morning. The park was empty. E-m-p-t-y. Literally any other place was available. There are empty benches 3 feet away from where Yotasuke was sitting. Why would a stranger need to sit exactly at the same table. The boy lifts his eyes to see who is the troublesome person.  

Unless it wasn’t a stranger.  

Tired eyes, ash blonde hair, and a radiating smile. Blue.  

Yaguchi.  

The man in front of him wasn't anything close to a stranger. Well, somehow he was, somehow he wasn’t. Yotasuke knew his name but that was because of Hashida, and he wasn’t sure if Yaguchi knew who he is. They have never exchanged any words directly before. 

“...Sure,” Yotasuke replies, he tries to keep his voice tone in control and hide his awestruck. Wait. Is he staring? He peels his eyes off Yaguchi and returns to his notebook.  

“Thanks!” the other one sings as he’s jumping in front of Yotasuke. “Is that a sketchbook?” he asks cheerfully, pointing to the notebook.  

Yotasuke remembers about the sketchbook how incriminatory the drawing inside of it are. What would a normal person think if they saw drawings of themselves in someone’s notebook? Would they be honored, grateful? Or disgusted at the privacy disregard?  

Why did he have to take that exact notebook that day? And why did Yaguchi have to bump into him that  exact  day? Damn it. Yotasuke slams the notebook shut, a bit too loud and aggressive for what he wanted it to look like, the sound echoes through the serene park.   

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for...” he apologies.  

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It's my fault for scooping my nose in other people’s business. Please accept my apologies.” He shakes around his hands followed by a small bow while sitting. Yotasuke lifts his eyes from the notebook and faces Yaguchi again. He wears casual clothes, he’s not here for jogging Yotasuke assumes.  

“My name is Yaguchi Yatora. You must be Hashida-san’s friend?” Yatora introduces himself with another bow, this time he stands up. He is still smiling. 

Yatora. Tiger.   

“I wouldn’t say friend, but I know Hashida-san. I am Takahashi Yotasuke,” Yotasuke replies while stuffing the sketchbook inside his pocket.  

“Gotcha!!” Yaguchi beams. “I finally got to talk to you!” he continues just as enthusiastically, scooting closer to Yotasuke. 

Finally. Talk. Me?   

A simple quick and confused “What?” is all that Yotasuke can answer. 

“Hashida-san told us that you are not the chatty type, but I was still willing to talk with you though,” Yaguchi explains. “I remember seeing you at the exposition back then, then in front of the library,” he makes a break, trying to recall more details. “I’m pretty sure I’ve also saw you somewhere else before. Your face is pretty hard to forget,” Yaguchi claims, you could hear his smile in his voice. His facial expression changes quickly when fear fills his eyes. “B-Because of the 2 freckles under your eyes,” he continues, blushing because he realizes what he had implied with the first assertion.  

“You mean after the sho-…" Yotasuke shuts his mouth with his hands. Why did he even open it?  

“Oooooohhh, so you also remember me?!?!” Yatora’s eyes light up. Just like a kid that received the gift they wished for on Christmas morning. Yotasuke can’t yet distinguish the difference between the two shades, afraid that if he were to look directly into his eyes, his entire persona would be spoiled and Yaguchi would be able to see inside him.

“Umm… what are you doing here this early, Yaguchi-san?” Yotasuke asks, avoiding Yaguchi’s question.  

“Well, you see, my friends and I went out for drinks and karaoke, we won’t have another chance anytime soon. I’ll be having intensive classes during the summer break,” Yaguchi explains. “This is so much more complicated than preparatory course,” he exhales, trying to relax about the thought.  

Preparatory course?   

“Wait, so you’re telling me you just started dancing? You are a novice?” Yotasuke queries, intrigued by the piece of information.  

“Whaa..? No, no, Yotasuke-kun," Yaguchi chuckles. It makes Yotasuke’s heart tingle. “I started dancing when I was eleven. Usually, kids start dancing around eight. What can I say, I’m a late bloomer. For two years I even had to train with boys almost half my age,” Yaguchi clarifies, himself keeping details hidden.  

11-years is young, but late if you plan on being a professional dancer. Your body responds differently to the physical requirements at that age than it does when you are 7. Yotasuke remembers he was enrolled for dance classes when he was 8 but his parents quickly interrupted them due to his lack of “skill” – according to his teachers - and motivation. Who would be motivated when you are told that, despite trying hard enough, you are the last? In reality, he wasn’t born with the body structure for ballet.  

Curiously after, his mother was drastically invested in his art skills.  

“Wow...” Yotasuke whispers.  

“Yeah... I had to work really hard to be accepted in this school, now I’ll be doing the summer program,” Yaguchi says while rubbing the back of his nape, he didn’t want to make it a big deal, despite it being a big deal. 

“That’s admirable, Yaguchi-san. Congratulations,” Yotasuke acknowledges. He doesn’t know how to move the conversation from there, a short silence sets between the two of them.  

“What about you, Yotasuke-kun?” Yaguchi asks, “are you an art student like Hashida-san?” 

“Yes and no. We are not classmates, but we go to the same school,” Yotasuke answers. The dog walkers and the runners have been replaced and a new set of people has joined the park, kids with their parents are rushing in, heading towards the school.  

“I see... do you want to study art at University? What was the name? Gei...dai?” Yatora tries to recall parts of conversations he had with Hashida about his studies. “I have a friend that wants to study music there. I heard it’s the best art school in Japan.”  

“I guess...” Yotasuke returns, he doesn’t bother with any details, Yatora is still a stranger he doesn’t know so why would he disclose any personal details.  

A stranger you have an entire stash of drawings inspired by, you creep, Yotasuke’s brain adds. He ignores that little voice. 

The Yaguchi in front of him didn’t look like the Yaguchi on the stage. He has messy hair and he smells like cigarettes and alcohol. He doesn’t wear sparkly costumes but wrinkles shirts. Even his body language is more relaxed. The aura surrounding him is the same, though. His presence fills the atmosphere with cordial emotions.  

Yotasuke’s fingers are tingling.  

Silence finds its way between them again. Yotasuke doesn’t feel the need to fill it, it was a comfortable type of silence. But should he speak though? Should he excuse himself to go home? It was a school day... 

“Yaguchi-san” Yotasuke breaks the silence, “please excuse me, but I must take my leave, I have to arrive at school.” he continues while sitting up.  

“Aah, yes, it is a Thursday after all, you probably have classes, I shouldn't hold you back.” Yatora excuses himself while rubbing his nape. “Let’s see each other another time, Yotasuke-kun.”   

Another time...  

“This is incredible, Yotasuke-kun,” Matsuo sensei praises Yotasuke’s work.  

It’s a painting of the cute chihuahua dog he saw that morning, the one with the laser light to make him visible so people don’t step on him. He changed a bit the way the dog looked like, the final product looked like an enchanted-robot-dog hybrid. Instead of a red laser he did a luminescent purple gem, and the background was a dark green forest. It was a satisfying painting even for him, he enjoyed painting this. It was the first painting he nailed in over 2 months of art block. 

“Thank you, sensei.”  

“You should try to express yourself like this, more openly, more often, Yotasuke-kun, I’m sure you will learn a lot by doing that,” the teacher continues.  

Yotasuke only nods and withdraws himself from the office. Shortly after, the teacher goes out to search the next student.   

Yotasuke packs his things to take his leave. Despite being past 7, the sun outside is still shining. 

“Are you leaving already, Sekai-kun?” Of course, Hashida had to notice.  

“Yes, tomorrow is a school day and I still have homework to do,” he excuses himself, opening the door. 

“Mind if I join you?” Hashida tries, there was something in his tone that Yotasuke could regularly notice and that he didn’t like – no – suffer. 

“Yes, I do mind,” Yotasuke replies coldly and shuts the door behind him, going to the elevator. He wasn’t in the mood for Hashida, he woke up earlier than usual that day, had a lot of classes, including one surprise quiz, and the dog painting was a complex one, with lots of details. He wasn’t angry, just tired, and Hashida Haruka can be hard to handle sometimes. 

He goes to the usual train station to take the usual train home. While waiting for the train his eyes catch something in the corner. Something with bright hair and blue clothes. Yaguchi? He hopes not, he really doesn’t have the energy to be dragged into another animated conversation. He ignores it. 

Maybe it was just his imagination, by the time he entered the train no one pulled him aside into another small talk. The morning one had left him feeling ecstatic for a while then the adrenaline dried up and he felt the consequences of socializing more than he was used to.  

His throat was sore, his brain wouldn’t stop replaying the lines he said or could’ve said, to make the interaction more meaningful, or to overanalyze his body language or Yaguchi’s. Such a weird coincidence to run into him when Yotasuke was trying to forget about him. 

Yaguchi is more peculiar than he imagined the perfect dancer on the stage could be. The fact that the guy was five years behind the average dancer really blew him off. He was already a character dancer, most likely because of his perfect variations. Is this what happens when you find your true passion?  

Gold eyes, tall with long legs, the kind of body structure made for ballet dance, his hair was messy. Incredibly messy. He doesn’t recall anyone to match his hair. The way it would stick out everywhere. His face was puffy, he did say he was out with his friends, did he stay up all night? He is also smoking and drinking, isn’t all of this kind of self-destructive? As a dancer you have a lot of physical requirements, that’s why dancers retire so early, especially ballet dancers, so they have to be extra careful with their health. 

But then, he remembers the easiness he could speak with Yaguchi. He doesn’t have that privilege with everyone.  

He can’t explain it, but Yotasuke started to feel like he has some sort of aura that repels people. At first, as a child, he’d think that he didn’t meet the ideal people, then, in middle school, he thought he’ll have another chance once he goes to highschool and meets new people but, in the end, he understood he wasn’t a people person. He is still trying to accept that part of himself. 

The sun started to set when he was entering the house.  

“You are home early today, Yotasuke,” his mother appears in front of the kitchen door frame. “How was school today?”  

That question. Yotasuke can’t explain to himself why, but it’s making him angry. 

“School was fine, we had a quiz in the language class” he answers, his room door was slightly open and Fumi appears from within. Yotasuke’s eyes widen and he runs inside.  

No. No.  

Damn it. He forgot the door open that morning when he returned from the park to get his school affairs. 

“Mom, why didn’t you close the door?” He shouts so his mother can hear him from the kitchen. “Fumi’s fur is everywhere on the canvas,” the canvas that was depicting the painting he did yesterday. It wasn’t fully dried because of the thick layers of paint he put on the canvas. He did paint the same subject over and over but at the same time he tried different techniques, so he doesn’t stagnate and learns something.  

This particular piece was a thicker coated one with a 3D design for the clothing pattern. But, because of the cat, the final product won’t look anything the way it was supposed to. Ruined. The boy exhales and tosses the painting aside.  

He can’t be mad at his pet, it’s just an animal. He doesn’t want to blame his mother either. He has to accept it as an unlucky incident. Maybe it’s a sign. 

He looks around for a replacement. But he doesn’t have any more canvases or any sailcloth and frames to make a new one. He could also use some more paint, that one used up a lot of it. Maybe some new colors, he could play with them. He should go to the art store tomorrow and stock up.  

He doesn’t like art stores. There are always a lot of people. Artists, art students, amateurs, parents that have to find a specific tool their kid’s teacher requested. But he also needs to see the colors, to feel the cloth and the bristles in order for him to buy anything. He can’t just order it from the internet, he had made that mistake once and instead of red it was magenta. Never again.  

He knows there is still one more canvas in his room. Right between the wall and the shelves. He never stopped thinking about it. Not when he’d go to school and see the exact scenery he wanted to paint, every day. Maybe he should finally continue it. 

Yotasuke takes the canvas out. There were dust bunnies on the top board, he hasn’t touched it since he has done the sketch.  

He analyzes the said sketch. It still looks acceptable, he wouldn’t change anything to it. It only needs color. 

He will do it tomorrow. 

Right now he has an assay about the Edo period to write and notes to reread. And a cat to pet. Besides, tomorrow he will have access to new tool to make the process more fun. He is looking forward to it.  

His painting today wasn’t bad. Just that. Not bad. Matsuo sensei didn’t praise it the same way he did with the previous day’s work.  

Yotasuke tried to redo one of Monet’s Les Nymphéas. A series of works that the artist has created during his last years of life. He has chosen an internet reference of the Nymphéa with the morning with willows. The original piece is in Paris, at the Musée de l’Orangérie, among other pieces from the same collection. It is said they radiate a special sense of calmness. The artist himself has given away those painting as a post WW1 gift to the French people as a refuge for meditation and tranquility. And even today, his wish is still respected, the Musée de l’Orangerie is a temple for people that want to find internal peace through art. 

But, of course, Yotasuke wasn’t good at recreating that, he was just “not bad”. 

“Hashida-san! wait up!” Yotasuke shouts before his friend opens the exit door. He gets his drawings folder on his shoulder and joins the other. 

“Mmhm? Didn’t you refuse me yesterday when I asked you to leave together? What made you change your preferences this fast?” Hashida purrs, keeping the door open for Yotasuke too. 

“I was thinking about going to Sekaido, do you want to tag along?” Yotasuke asks, he doesn’t mind going alone, that would be preferable, but he felt that Hashida’s presence for that evening wouldn’t be too bad either. Maybe it’s because going home with Hashida has become another habit during the cram school days.  

“The art store close to Shinjuku Gyoen?”  

“Yes,” Yotasuke prefers it because the place is big enough for his personal space and the store is always stocked up, he can find whatever materials he was looking for. Besides, the store is open until late so going after classes isn’t a problem. 

“Why don’t we go there on Monday, Sekai-kun? I already have someone waiting for me.” Haruka explains. “I’m sorry, Sekai,” he rubs the back of his nape.  

Yotasuke feels a bit embarrassed for asking. He didn’t consider the option that Hashida would actually turn him down, is this Karma? And who is he seeing? Kuwana-san? The two seem quite close. Dating? 

“I see, it’s okay, I’ll go there on myself then. See you on Monday, Hashida-san,” Yotasuke says as the elevator door open for the 1st floor. Before the sliding doors can open Yotasuke remembers he forgot some paint tubes in the atelier. He parts ways with Hashida to return upstairs.  

Yotasuke didn’t have the chance to see who was waiting for Hashida.  

Just like the first time, the same tall silhouette was leaning on the wall, surrounded by smoke clouds. 

“Hashida-san!” He welcomes his friend, extinguishing his cigarette and tossing it in the trash bin. 

“Good evening Yatora, have you been waiting for long?” Hashida greets his friend.   

“No, I have just arrived,” he explains. “I can’t wait to see Utashima playing tonight.”  

Hashida only hums as he is listening to his friend talking in his animate way. They are going to a tennis game. Utashima used to be pretty good at it but after an ugly knee injury 2 years prior he was forced to give it up. Now he can only play as an amateur.  

After retrieving his paints, Yotasuke gets out of the building and takes the opposite side of the street than the one the 2 earlier boys went on. His sight gets lost in the sea of people.  

Basil. Mint. Moss. Fern. Green.  

His bag contains enough wood and sailcloth for thirty f15 canvases. He has fished some new brushes too and he's very eager to test the Japanese ones. They can create some unusual effects.  

The train runs smoothly, it is late, way past the rush hour. The sky is turning darker with each station. Yotasuke is sitting on the place next to the door on the Chuo Line train. The bag with new materials sits on his lap. His ears are busy with the music and the hands with the Switch, it is a good activity for him to do on the way home, when he is tired. Despite his mother’s disagreements, Pokemon is one of the things he is sure he enjoys. He is engrossed in the game, briskly pressing the buttons, when the train stops at the Nakano Sakue station.   

The train is filled with people, his personal space is broken when someone sits next to him. Yotasuke lifts his eyes and looks around to see if he’s at his station yet. So far, he is still a few stations away from his stop. Normally he’d return to his game if his eyes didn’t catch sight of something.  

Yaguchi, and three more boys. For a moment Yotasuke considers the possibility of standing up to say ‘hello’ to them, but wouldn’t that be weird? Even if it is not weird, does he want to interrupt their conversation and risk being entangled in it too? The boy decides it is not worth the energy expenditure, he returns to the game and turns the music volume a bit down, so he doesn’t attract any attention, hoping that Yaguchi won’t notice him until his stop. Even if they did, no one disturbed him. He continued his journey on the streets alone.  

“Good evening, Fumi,” the boy lovingly greets his cat.   

“Good evening Yotasuke, how was school?” His mother asks him in the hallway. That same question. Why is she even asking? What do you think? I was just minding my business on my own, that’s none of your concern and it’s not like you even care...   

“Good evening. It was fine, I went to the Shinjuku store to get more materials,” he voices instead of his annoyance for the question. The cat is rubbing her body against his legs.   

He is not hungry but that doesn't mean he should skip dinner, not when it was already cooked. It would be too troublesome to make his mother understand he is not hungry. During the meal he doesn’t exchange any words with his parents that are talking about their day. Yotasuke’s mother is a housewife, but his father works in Tokyo.  

He is trying to force the food down so he can go to his room and work on the painting the quickest possible. Outside, the sun starts setting. He puts the fork down when he is finished. He is waiting for his parents to finish as well, that was the norm inside their home, it is rude to leave the table if people are still eating. Their conversation comes to a break when his phone pings.  

“It’s Hashida, he told me he forgot to return some paint tube,” Yotasuke explains and his parents resume the conversation. He lied, he didn’t even look at the screen but there couldn’t be anyone else other than Haruka that has his contact information. 

ゴ ゴ ゴ ゴ    

“Stop that.” Yotasuke commands the painting in front of him.  

This time he was prepared for it. First, he’ll do the base color, then the sky, the distant skyscrapers, the trees and bushes, the ground and he’ll end it up with the window frame. It's simple like that. But he shouldn't rush either. Otherwise, the piece might look skillful but confusing and mediocre.  

“I’ll only do the base color tonight... it is already late,” he tells himself. He left the store right before closing, and when he arrived home the sky was already dark despite being summer. Doing art when you are tired can only lead to fails. He doesn’t like to fail.  

He takes one of the thick flat brushes and dips it in blue. He paints only one third. The next third is green. And the last part is brown. Nothing special, just the basics.  

Would it be a bad thing if he skipped some steps and he’d do the tree right now? He likes that tree. It has grown right under the window. They will probably have to cut it down someday, it is blocking the sunlight from the classes on lower floors. 

But skipping steps is an early grave for your painting. Isn't this mentality insecure? Matsuo sensei had advised him to be more expressive. Is painting elements in the wrong order the good thing? But why is there an order for painting if he didn’t decide that himself? 

Yotasuke can’t decide what he should do. He recognizes this pattern, he is exhausted and he should rest. No more painting for the day. Just sleep.  

Chapter Text

Ping.  

Roughly somewhere in the middle of July  

“Takahashi-kun, I hope you won’t be in this situation ever again, you are wasting your potential with this behavior of yours,” the teacher said as Yotasuke received back his confiscated phone. And for what? Just because he was playing music during class.  It wasn’t even loud, he himself had problems hearing the beat with the headphones on, let alone the lyrics.  

The red dot on the message box reminded him that he had an unread message. Right. He did receive it on…. Friday? And then in the weekend he was busy studying for a quiz and, of course, painting. The he just… forgot...?  

What does Hashida-san want this time? Yotasuke asks himself while taping the phone screen. 

[ Yaguchi Yatora ] : Hello, Yotasuke-kun!! It’s Yaguchi Yatora. This might come off a little weird, but I saw you on the train this evening, but I didn’t want to disturb you. Do you take the Chuo line? 

Yotasuke reread the message. Once. Twice. Thrice. Is it really Yaguchi’s name? Why does he have Yaguchi’s phone number registered? Why does YAGUCHI have his phone number? 

Oh. Right. The park meeting. Yaguchi did say he wants to meet another time.  

[ Yotasuke ] : Hello, Yaguchi-san. Yes, I do go home from painting classes with the Chuo line.  

Is that too cold? Isn’t putting a dot at the end of a text message too formal or even threatening?  

Wait.   

Yaguchi sent the message a few days ago. Why did Yotasuke sent that message just like that, without thinking? He has to excuse himself for not replying faster. 

[ Yotasuke ] : I’m really sorry for replying so late, Yaguchi-san, I was caught up with schoolwork and university preparations 

No more dot, but what a shallow excuse Yotasuke thinks. First he doesn’t even say hi to him on the train then he doesn’t answer for days to a simple text message. It wouldn’t shock him if Yaguchi didn’t want to talk with him at all anymore.  

Despite these thoughts, the boy kept looking at the phone, hoping it would ping and Yaguchi would answer. But it didn’t. 

The answer came 3 hours later when Yotasuke was entering the Tobi studio alongside Hashida. This time he was sure it wasn’t Hashida that texted him. 

[ Yaguchi Yatora ] : Don’t worry, Yotasuke-kun. I forgot how busy school could be, not to mention you have to prepare for the admission exam too. 

He is polite, Yotasuke thinks. He was taping an answer before setting his affairs in place.  

[ Yotasuke ] : Please excuse me once again, it was rude of me. I’m sure you are busy too but you wouldn’t let people with an unread message for so long. 

[ Yaguchi Yatora ] : No need to repeat it. I only do dance, so I think you have it worse than me.  

Only dance is harder than what you’re trying to make it sound like Yotasuke, was intrigued about the implications of “only dance” but he didn’t have the opportunity to ask Yaguchi about it since immediately after another message arrived. 

[ Yaguchi Yatora ] : I also take the Chuo line when going to the studio. Do you want to meet up ? 

“Good evening, Yotasuke-kun.” 

“Good evening, Yaguchi-san.” 

The two boys greet each other. It was a novelty for Yotasuke to share a ride home with someone, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.  

The classes would end up early in the evening. He has a habit of getting grumpy when he is tired, and he doesn’t want to lash out at Yaguchi for no reason. So, he doesn’t speak much. Surprisingly, neither does Yaguchi. He would imagine someone like Yaguchi would be talking nonstop. The two spend the time together in silence, it’s quite comfortable. 

“Do you mind if I put on my headphones, Yotasuke-kun?” 

“No, not at all, please go on.” Yotasuke takes his own headphones out too, shuffling his playlist.  

Yotasuke can’t stand the summer. It’s too hot. Just sweat and hair sticking to your forehead.  

There was a red print on his cheek. He has fallen asleep during painting session again. It’s not his fault that Tobi’s painting section is on 6th floor and that Tokyo is so humid, making the temperature feel worse than normal. 

At least his painting is drying. Two gigantic metal spheres floating in the middle of a green field. He isn’t sure if Matsuo sensei will like it, it is not something Geidai might like either but that isn’t important, he isn’t an exam art machine. As long as he doesn’t get first place in the art examination then he’s relaxed.  

Ping  

[ Yaguchi ] : Heeeey Yotasuke 

Ping  

[ Yaguchi ] : See you tonight at the same hour ?  (* ^ ω ^) 

So he’s the type to use emojis.  

[ Yotasuke ] : Yes, Yaguchi-san 

[ Yotasuke ] : See you later 

“Good evening, Yotasuke-kun." 

“Good evening, Yaguchi-san.” 

“Do you mind if I keep my headphones on?” Yatora asks. He was wearing the big, noise cancelling, kind of headphones. That, combined with his casual clothes and messy hair, would make him undistinguishable from an average highschool student.  

Yotasuke takes out one pod from his ear and answers “No, it’s okay. I’m not in the mood to talk right now,” a bit too honest and straightforward. 

“What do you listen to most of the times, Yotasuke kun?” Yaguchi asks. “Like when we are on the train home?” Today he wasn’t wearing his big headset. 

Yotasuke wasn’t expecting a question. Until now neither of them did say more than just a few greets.  

“Uhm, stuff like – alternative?” he starts, he wasn’t sure if Yatora would understand what alternative means but by the look of his face he assumed he knew, “as in alt punk, or punk rock, stuff like, uhm... like… Catharsis…?” He isn’t sure whether Yatora will understand. 

“It’s a word play… Catharsis as in the sensation, but this song I’m listening to right now is named like that… uhm, I like western music... Story Untold?” well this one is a small band, it’s normal if he doesn’t recognize the name, Yotasuke thinks, “Three days grace?” no, he doesn’t seem to know them either despite being bigger. “The GazattE? Oral cigarettes?” Oh. At least Yaguchi knows these, they are pretty mainstream after all and popular in Japan after all. 

“Stuff like... Avril Lavigne?” Yatora tries to understand Yotasuke’s style.  

Yotasuke snickers.  

“Sorry, that was rude.” Yotasuke puts a hand over his mouth to cover it. “Yeah, somehow like Avril Lavigne, but she’s more like pop punk,” he corrects the boy next to him.  

Yaguchi looks away, a pink shade was covering his cheeks. He was embarrassed for making this mistake. After all the music study he did on his way home.  

“I listened to Avril when I was younger, the music is actually good. I used to enjoy it a lot, I didn’t listen it in a while,” Yotasuke continues, trying to improve the mood. “What about you, Yatora, what were you listening to right now?”  

“Well, it’s going to sound foolish.” 

Oya? Why’s that? Yotasuke wonders, he rises an eyebrow as an invitation for Yaguchi to continue, tilting his head. 

“Right now…. Classical music” 

Yotasuke deadpans. Of course, he is listening to that even in his free time. The thought of Yaguchi being a pretentious individual, just like his family, annoys Yotasuke. 

“It’s for studying,” Yatora explains seeing Yotasuke’s face expression and reading his mind. “I have a class about music and ballet and I have to train my ears to recognize the music better and it helps me perform better.” 

Well at least that makes sense...  

“No way!” Yotasuke huffs with wide eyes. 

“Y-yeaaaah… I’ve never been to a normal highschool. I finished junior high at 15 then I moved to this school, and I only do online school. Besides, at the ballet school we have a lot of classes that aren’t directly related to dance, like English or dietetics. I’m already behind everyone else in dance, I don’t have any natural talent, so I can’t really afford being slowed back by school too,” Yaguchi explains, rubbing his nape. He was feeling a bit inferior to the honor student.  

“That’s not true!” Yotasuke counters, he liked Yaguchi’s dance style very much and hearing him say such deprecating comments about himself didn’t stay good with Yotasuke. “Yaguchi-san, you are too harsh, I wish you could see yourself on the stage from the viewers perspective.”  

Yotasuke puts on his headphones and takes out the Switch console to play. He doesn’t talk nor looks at Yatora for the rest of the ride that evening. 

“Good morning, Yotasuke-kun.” 

“Good morning, Yaguchi-san.”  

“How are you feeling this morning, Yotasuke-kun ?” Yaguchi asks while he sits next to his friend. 

“Tired, moody, not enough caffeine in my system,” Yotasuke deadpans “What about you, Yaguchi-san?”  

He was almost over with the landscape. Every day he was doing little progress over the piece, hoping it would help him. He isn’t sure if it does help, sometimes it is very annoying, sometimes it is very pleasing. It depends on the day. 

Yaguchi looks at him while resting his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands. “If coffee is what you need for a better start of the day, then I know this place close to Hatsudai,” he continues while getting up to prepare for the train stop.  

“Black, please,” Yotasuke tells the barista. 

“Gee, will you ever order anything else than black coffee?” Yaguchi asks while waiting for his own café au lait. “I don’t even know how you can enjoy that,” he lowers his head closer to Yotasuke and whispers “it tastes like mud.” 

“You’re a coward,” Yotasuke answers while receiving his cup.  

“Exactly, Yotasuke-san. You are a coward, Yatora. It also means less work for me,” The barista jokes. 

“Thank you Utashima, we’ll be back tomorrow !!” Yaguchi waves his hand as a sign of departure. 

The two part ways outside of the café.  

“That’s a big bento, Maki,” Hashida notices. 

“Shut up, dancing burns a lot of calories,” Maki counters. “I feel like girls that dance eat a lot, unlike the boys, maybe that’s why some are that skinny,” she continues.  

“No need to make commentaries about anyone’s eating habits, you two,” Yaguchi intervenes. “Everyone is free to eat however they like, don’t you think, Yotasuke?”  

Yotasuke was more focused on his rice than the conversation that sparked between his friends. “What’s the point of this conversation?” he simply says, not expecting an answer.  

No one said anything to that. Yotasuke felt bad for the way he put it, he didn’t want to end the conversation and make things awkward, but he didn’t see how he could continue this topic. The curse of not having social skills...  

“By the way, you have an interesting way of holding your chopsticks, how do you do that, Yotasuke?” Maki points.  

“Sekai even draws while holding the pen and brushes like that. It’s his special feature,” Hashida replies instead while winking towards Maki and Yotasuke.  

“Whoaaaa, that’s so cool, Yotasuke-kun!!” Yatora cheers.  

Yotasuke is taken aback by his reaction. Why is he reacting like that? That’s just the norm for Yotasuke, nothing special. He returns to his rice food box and continues to eat without joining in the conversation.   

“This is Fumi, our cat,” Yotasuke explains while showing Yaguchi pictures on his phone. The ghost of a smile lingers on his lips, but it vanishes immediately, and panic fills his eyes. He closes the phone when he swipes over to the next picture. It was a painting of his, the painting. It was still in work. Well, it was done but he was still thinking he missed something vital about it. He didn’t want to show it to anyone, not yet.  

“Sorry, that was a personal project,” Yotasuke felt the need to explain despite Yatora not asking. “But I can show you other paintings if you want,” he proposes and turns to face Yaguchi that is beaming.  

“Please do!! I can show you dance videos afterwards!”  

[ Yaguchi ] : Hey, I think I will be late tonight  

[ Yaguchi ] : You can go ahead 

[ Yaguchi ] : Or you can come over to pick me up, haha/j 

[ Yaguchi ] : (^ิ艸^ิ) 

Yotasuke looked at the screen in his hand. He was already waiting for his train at the Shinjuku station. He and Yaguchi have gone home together every day for almost 3 weeks already. 

Should he go home alone tonight? But Yaguchi said his school was close to Tobi, it wouldn’t hurt to go there and wait for him. This is also a good opportunity for Yotasuke to see what school his friend attends. But going there to pick Yaguchi alone would be weird, what if Hashida hasn’t left Tobi yet? 

[ Yotasuke ] : Send me the address 

[ Yaguchi ] : Text me when you arrive, in case you get lost 

Ping.  

Oh. 

Of course he studies there. 

Yotasuke won’t get lost.  

“This is huge,” Hashida whistles seeing the Tokyo Opera City building from the Hatsudai station. 

“Yeah, it is,” Yotasuke absently confirms, “however, we’re going to the one next to it,”as he points to a significant shorter building. 

The two pass the Egyptian statues and go up the few stairs in front of them before heading to the elevator to go 2 levels underground.  

It is the same, not much has changed. The hall is short with a few doors on each side, he texts Yaguchi before entering just to be sure he has gotten to the right room. 

The door bursts open and the two guests are welcomes by a very confused Yaguchi. Tight shorts and shining skin from the sweat. Hair pulled back by a band. He looks quite comical. Just like a ballet dancer is expected to look like. 

“Oh...? you found… the way..?” Yaguchi is stunned. Normally, people would get lost inside due to its complexity, but Yotasuke isn’t an average person and he seems to know everything. 

“I used to come here when I was a child. My mother would pick up my cousin when her parents were too busy,” Yotasuke explains, like it was all obvious.  

“…You never told me about this cousin,” Yatora looks at Yotasuke, he would like to know more but he doesn’t know how to approach the situation and right now he doesn’t really have the opportunity to sit and talk right now. “Good evening, Hashida-san !” Yaguchi finally greets his other friend, didn’t it take him a little bit too long to notice Hashida standing next to Yotasuke ? He isn’t that unnoticeable after all. 

“Good evening, Yatora,” Hashida replies, wearing the same smile he always does.  

Unlike Yotasuke, this was the first time for him to see the inside of the training room and he was absorbing every detail of it. Memorizing how everything was arranged, after all, before a performance is shown to the spectators, the dancers must train here. 

“Come on in, I’ll take a shower and change and then we can head home, I’m exhausted,” Yaguchi ushers them inside. “The teacher has already left, we were doing just some evening stretches so it’s no problem if you wait here. Well then, see you soon,” Yaguchi explains before disappearing before the door.  

Poc. Poc. Poc.  

The two boys left turn their eyes towards the sound source. A girl is hitting her shoe against the floor.  

“What is she doing ?” Hashida asks, surprised by the peculiar act.  

“She’s beating the sound out of her shoes,” Yotasuke answers while taking his Switch out of the backpack.  

“Ah.”

Hashida deadpans while continuing to stare at the girl and her shoe. He makes a pause before continuing. “What is that?” he asks. It's not like Hashida is as familiar with ballet as Yotasuke is.  

“It basically means making your shoes silent so when you jump they’re not noisy and don’t distract the audience from the dance.”

The boys turn their heads to see Maki. 

“Good evening, Kuwana-san,” Yotasuke greets her. She passes him to go and hug Hashida that returns the act. “Hey there. How are you doing?” Hashida asks after breaking the hug. 

“Good evening Yotasuke-kun, Hashida,” Maki replies, flashing a smile and opening her arms as a question for Yotasuke whether he was willing to get a hug too. But refuses with a head shake. “I was just getting ready for doing my cool down stretches before leaving,” she continues.   

“Isn’t it a bit too late, Maki-san ?” Yatora returns from the locker, smelling fresh and wearing casual day clothes.  

“I have to work hard to get out of the corps, Yaguchi,” Maki heaves, something in her eyes should’ve alarmed anyone, but no one noticed. 

“However you feel better, Maki-san, please don’t overdo it,” Yaguchi answers as he is closing his hoodie zipper. “Well, then, we’re off, see you on Friday,” the boy says before heading towards the exit.  

The following day will be a rest day for their school dance. Yaguchi would like to hang out with his friends but that won’t be possible, not for the moment at least. Or anytime in the near future. He must rest for his body to be capable to keep up with the demands. 

“Hey, Yatora, when are you leaving?” Hashida asks the boy next to him when they are outside, waiting for the traffic light to change color.  

Leaving?  

“September 15th,” Yaguchi answers. “Can’t wait for Osaka, we’re staying two weeks, I am so excited,” he continues, he doesn’t make any effort to hide his smile. 

That means until the end of September.  

“So you will be here for Geisai then,” Hashida happily concludes. “Hey Sekai, do you want to go to Geisai with Yatora and me?” Hashida turns towards Yotasuke.  

But the boy didn’t process the question.  

Why does no one pay attention to Hashida today. Is this the price he has to pay for being a freak? 

“I’m sorry but where are you going in September, Yaguchi-san ?” Yotasuke bends forward to get to see the other one’s face because Hashida was between the two of them. 

“Touring in Osaka, it’s the post summer course performance, we’ll be cooperating with the Osaka Ballet Academy on Don Quixote and Giselle.” Yaguchi answers him in his usual cheerful manner, maybe a bit more excited than usual. “But don’t worry, I won’t miss the Geidai cultural festival!” 

“Oh, you’re doing Giselle again?” Yotasuke hears Hashida’s voice asking. “I enjoyed it very much last time.” 

“Well, yeah, it’s part of this year’s repertoire, maybe this time I will get the chance to dance it...” 

“Good morning, Yotasuke-kun.” 

“Good morning, Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke replies as Yaguchi enters the train. He takes the bag off the place next to him to allow Yaguchi to sit. He’d put it there so no one else could sit in that spot, saving it for his friend that would embark 3 stations later than he does.  

“Do you want me to text Utashima so the coffees are already done when we arrive there?” Yatora suggests while taking his phone out of his jeans pocket 

“Sure.” 

“Black?” 

“Yep.” 

“Noted,” he taps the screen for a few seconds before stuffing the phone back into the pocket. “Hey, Yotasuke-kun, you’ve never told me about your cousin, the one that did ballet.” 

“She still does. She’s professional,” Yotasuke replies while having his eyes glued on the window in front of him. 

“Whaaa?? that’s awesome~!!” Yaguchi replies, his eagerness to know more about the matter was showing as he scoots closer to Yotasuke, hoping he would reveal more. 

“She’s a principal for TTB-” Yotasuke doesn’t get to continue as one hand grabs his arm, he turns his head towards right and squints, Yaguchi’s shocked and admiring face is inches away from his own. A bit too uncomfortable for the first boy. 

“She-is-a PRINCIPAL?? At The Tokyo Ballet? What’s her name?” Yaguchi asks too fast for Yotasuke to answer. 

“Fujimura,” Yotasuke replies, turning his head away from Yaguchi, hoping he would do the same and allow Yotasuke to regain his personal space. “She’s married,” he explains the name difference. 

Yaguchi retreats to his place while the brain tries to make the connection. He stays like that, lost for about 10 seconds, looking at the ceiling before bursting and griping Yotasuke’s arm once again. 

“I am so BLIND Yotasuke-kun, how could I have not seen it before?” Yaguchi cries. “You are basically twins,” Yotasuke’s face grimaces at the implications of that, “I knew your face was familiar!” 

Yotasuke tries to hide his discontentment and bites the mean comments he would make about Yaguchi not knowing what personal boundaries are.  

“My mother insists on my presence at her shows. Our family is pretty much into arts,” he tries to change the subject. “Opera, orchestra, ballet, painting,” at the last he points to himself. “I can say that I’m the black sheep of the family, tch,” one corner of his mouth jerks up and he doesn’t hide his smirk.  

Yaguchi's lack of reply disquiets Yotasuke.  

He turns his head towards Yaguchi once again, this time the other one is at an acceptable distance. Yatora’s face was stunned. His eyes are wide and his lips parted.  

“What?” Yotasuke asks, he rises an eyebrow. 

“That’s the first time I saw you smiling,” Yatora breaks his silence.  

Huh?  He thinks. Yotasuke’s face bends in a disgusted grimace and turns his face away from Yatora. “That’s cringe.” 

“What? Why are you saying that?” Yatora’s voice sound soft, but sad. He's trying to get closer to Yotasuke again.  

“Just because,” Yotasuke crosses his arms and refuses to look at Yatora.  

“Wait, Fujimura like... the musician?” Yaguchi asks later, in his seat at the coffee shop.  

“Yes, he is a violinist for the TPO,” Yotasuke answers while blowing his coffee. It is too hot to drink right away. 

“No, no, no, Yotasuke-kun, you can’t just say it casually like that. He is the FIRST violinist of the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra,” Yaguchi corrects him. "I can’t believe you have people like this in your family. They are like super stars,” Yaguchi huffs, visibly impressed but deep in thoughts.   

“Why are you so focused on this anyway?” Yotasuke asks. He doesn’t think the same as Yaguchi. Maybe because he grew up with these people alongside him and cold see the good and the bad in them. 

“Because you -” he points his index finger at Yotasuke “-said you are the black sheep of the family.” He puts the coffee mug on the table. “Why are you saying that? Weren't you the one that said I am too harsh on myself? Your paintings are very good, why would you be the black sheep?” 

“It’s not because of that, my paintings are indeed good-” 

“Wow, so modest,” Yatora interrupts him with a joke. 

Yotasuke deadpans and continues his phrase. “My paintings are indeed good, but it’s not the reason I’m the black sheep. My cousins are all on the stage world. It’s not just Nee-san, I have cousins that sing or play an instrument too. My family tried to enroll me into dance classes too, but I’m the way I am and I couldn’t fit in.” He takes a break to sip on his coffee.  

Yatora listens to him intently, absorbing every word he is saying, he does, however, frown a bit when Yotasuke says the last phrase. “I don’t fit in with my family either. I was just the weird, introverted kid that liked to play with my pens. My mother would’ve preferred a dancing son rather than a painting son, but I guess we don’t always get what we wish for,” he continues, tracing the bords of the paper cup.  

This is the first time he opened up about this matter to anyone. It takes him a moment to realize what he has done. But he doesn’t have a chance to react because Yatora has moved in the seat next to him and hugged him.  

“W-what are you doing?” Yotasuke asks. He was frozen and couldn’t move at all. 

“Comforting you.”  

“Get off,” Yotasuke commends, more like a reflex than an actual wish. But he doesn’t try to push him off. 

“You are human Yotasuke-kun, don’t try to act like you aren’t one,” Yatora replies while slowly breaking the hug to look at Yotasuke in the eyes.  

“Isn’t it getting late?” Yotasuke changes the subject, reminding Yaguchi about his classes.  

“Just because you are correct it doesn’t mean you are right. I know what you’re trying to do Yotasuke-kun,” Yatora replies while gathering his bag and getting out of the door followed by Yotasuke. “See you later!!” He says before going in the opposite direction.  

“See you later,” Yotasuke whispers, more to himself, Yatora couldn’t possibly hear it from that distance and that volume.  

The day was to be an extremely hot and humid one, and despite what his usual clothing might suggest, Yotasuke didn’t want to risk overheating. He went for a fishnet blouse and a simple white t-shirt over it. He chose blue jeans and a pair of black sneakers, and for the finishing touches he added a grey chain to his pants.  

Once he goes back to school, he won’t be able to dress like this without a warning for his parents. That is not worth the hassle. He fetches his materials bag and goes out the door.  

Yotasuke puts on his headphones and takes out his Switch console so he can get his mind occupied. When Yatora enters the wagon, he doesn’t greet him, he only taps his shoulder to attract his attention and haves his hand at him, he is also wearing headphone. Is he listening to classical music?  

This painting is the last one he’ll do for Tobi summer examination. He won’t drop out, he considered it but doing that means he’ll have to explain to his mother why he thinks the institute was useless and making her understand that isn’t an easy task that Yotasuke would like to assume. He’ll just continue to attend the classes and draw what he sees fit like he does in his free time, regardless of the grading. 

This is the last contest Tobi will hold before the summer break ends. He doesn’t know what he should draw. An object from the class? He was bored of that. A landscape? Nope, it will remind him of the piece at home. Abstract art? Didn't he do enough of these lately? 

But what didn’t he draw lately? 

Oh. Oh.   

Yotasuke takes out his phone and searches for a reference.  

The atmosphere around is tense. It looks like someone might break down every moment now. 

“Why are you two so restless?” Hashida asks Maki and Yatora. They were checking their phones continuously since they arrived. Yatora’s bento was only half finished, while, surprisingly, Maki barely touched hers. 

“Today’s the results day. We’ll see which roles we get to play,” Yatora answers while bouncing his leg and having his eyes glued to the screen. 

“They said it will be up at 12. It’s almost 13,” Maki exasperatedly sighs.  

Hashida looks at Yotasuke, trying to make him join the conversation and change the subject for a lighter one that could help their two friends. Before he could even understand Hashida’s thoughts, the silence is broken. 

“IT’S UP!” the girl and the boy shout at the exact same time. Is this ballet instinct?  

Then silence find its way while the two scroll through the list to find their attributed roles.  

The first to react is Maki. She sighs. Then Yatora, he seems neutral.  

“Well?” Yotasuke asks, he couldn’t be any more straightforward. 

“Well, at least I get to dance it this time, even if I’m just a background villager,” Yatora explains. 

“Show me,” Maki asks her classmate. Yatora stretches his arm and puts the phone in front of the girl. “You shouldn’t feel so low about that role, Yatora, Giselle has way more roles for women than for men, besides, you get to do the pas de quatre from the village scene,” Maki explains “You are a legend, Yatora.” 

Yatora doesn't answer and her smile was bittersweet. She was working harder during the summer break just so she could be noticed and get an individual role. “I’m back to the village and wili scenes, in the corps, like nothing has changed at all,” she continues. Her voice is almost shaking but she has hidden it well enough for none of the boys to notice.  

“What about Don Quixote? Didn’t you say you are also going to dance that?” Hashida asks. He didn’t like the sad atmosphere that has set in.  

The two dancers return to their screens to find the answer for his question and only seconds later the two are enthusiastically squirming.  

“What did you get?” Yatora stirs up towards Maki.  

“Mercedes! What about you?” 

Yatora grasps and hits his cheeks with his two hands "Espada!” He is almost shouting. Yotasuke was afraid that people might ask them to leave because of the noise.  

“No way!” 

“Yes way!!” 

“Why are they so excited?” Hashida turns to Yotasuke, hoping he would provide an answer.  

Yotasuke only shrugs. He knew some stuff about ballet, but that was mainly for The Nutcracker, not for every piece it was out there. “All I know is that they’re lovers, they’re barely mentioned in the actual Don Quixote book.”  

“I can’t believe we’ll get to dance an official pas de deux together! The two characters have a big part with lots of dance in the series. They are not the main couple, but they appear and reappear through multiple scenes,” Maki explains and turns towards Yaguchi for the last part, eyes sparkling.  

“I know right?! If it’s you I know we’ll do an amazing job,” Yatora flutters his hands around. “Mercedes is this vivacious woman with all those cool variations, and you are flexible enough, you are perfect for it!” Yaguchi praises his friend. 

Maki blushes, “Espada’s entrance with all the toreadors around him is one of the best parts of the entire show, he’s the main character whenever he appears. Let’s do our best, Yatora!” 

Yaguchi hums. “Yes! Let's do our best!” 

Hashida and Yotasuke look at each other, being left outside from the two’s frenzy conversation they felt like a third wheel.  

“You should return to your meal, I bet these roles demand a lot of energy, so eat up!” Hashida urges them, he just wants to be a part of the conversation. 

“Aah you’re so right Hashida-san, but I don’t feel like I can swallow anything, I’m so excited for this.”  

“Same here, my appetite died. Don Quixote will be such a fun experience,” Maki affirms. “Actually, I’m going to leave early today, I want to see what the girls got, see ya~!!” she says and disappears running. 

“MAKI WAIT!” Yatora shouts before taking his lunch box and runs to catch up with her. 

“Well, you don’t get to see this every day,” Hashida notices when only him and Yotasuke are left. “Painting students aren’t this excited when they receive a theme they like.”  

Yotasuke hums, too busy with his food. He was curious how the performances and the costumes would look like, but it will be in Osaka, and he will be in Tokyo, so Yotasuke won’t be able to see them and know. 

Pink tutu. Cute pointe shoes. Perfect white fur. His painting is an image of Fumi as a ballerina. It's the kind of foolish paintings he would do in his sketchbook during break, not for a painting competition. But he knows he’ll score low, so why not have some fun?  

He takes a picture of it and presents it to the teacher before leaving. Maybe Yaguchi will like it. Yotasuke isn’t sure if he should show it to him, considering the motif.  

Hashida has already left. There weren’t many people still in the studio. The sky was getting orange. The summer was nearing end, and the admission exam was getting closer. Yotasuke got this. Everything will be alright.  

The door closes behind him.  

“Good evening, Yotasuke-kun.” 

“Good evening, Yaguchi-san. How are you?” Yotasuke asks. Yatora had his headset around his neck and was ready to put it over his ears if Yotasuke wouldn’t have spoken.  

“Good, thank you. I have talked with my classmates at the studio. Apparently, everyone at our school had background roles for Giselle, and everyone in Osaka had background roles for Don Quixote,” Yatora explains. “It’s because we have already played Giselle, and they have already played Don Quixote this year, so to change the routine a bit they mixed us like this,” he clarifies.  

“I feel bad for the person that will be Don Quixote however,” Yotasuke chuckles. 

“Why is that?”  

“It’s called Don Quixote, but he’s not the main character, and barely have any dance moves.”  

“I see... Well, then, congratulations on your role, I don’t think I told you this earlier.”  

“Hehe, thank you~! I got carried away and left you and Hashida without speaking much, sorry, it was rude of me...”  

“It’s alright, you had a good reason,” Yotasuke answers. A moment of silence makes Yatora’s headphones music audible for Yotasuke. 

“What’s that?” He looks at the headphones. “Is it classical music or do you listen to actual young people music?” he jokes, making himself smirk.  

Yatora’s eyes widen for a moment before he finds himself chuckling. “Don’t say it like classical music is just for old people.” 

“It is just for old people,” Yotasuke interrupts him. “I don’t get any energy to get ready in the morning from old Russian or French farts,” this particular part makes Yatora bursts into laughter.  

“Shut u-up, Yotasuke-kun, you’re killing me. And no, it’s no classical music tonight, listen,” And he takes off the headset to put it over Yotasuke’s ears.  

Am I your fire? Your one desire  

“Backstreet boys?” Yotasuke asks frowning, trying to concentrate. 

“Backstreet boys!” Yatora replies enthusiastically. 

“Do you like them?” 

“I like early 2000s and idol music, it sounds very fun. It’s also very fun to dance on,” Yatora makes a pause in which realization goes over his face. “But you weren’t supposed to know that,” he tries to laugh it off.  

Yotasuke imagines Yaguchi dancing on the beat and the lyrics of the song. Would he be the kind to do it perfectly? Or does he goof around?  

A chuckle escapes his lips. Then another one. It's escalating to the point where he is actually laughing, out loud, at the idea of Yatora messing around the house in short pants with Britney Spears's voice “Oh baby, baby...”

“Hey, Yaguchi-san, do you want to see what I’ve painted today?” 

Chapter Text

Tears are filling her eyes, overflowing her overwhelmed face. Is she shocked or really sad? She keeps her weeping sounds low so no one can notice. But everyone did. She’s frozen, she doesn’t move. She can’t move. She'd have expected anything but this. She shouldn’t have been put in this position. 

She's been staring at the painting on the top shelf for 5 minutes before she comes to her senses. She wipes her tears with the hem of her shirt and bursts out the door. The painting under hers is quite childish but adorable and honest none the less.  

A ballet kitten.   

“Let’s take a picture in front of it before they leave!!” Yatora points at the mikoshi.  

It was big. Marvelous too. A white horse adorned with brightly colored oriental motifs. It is the University’s first years tradition to create a mikoshi for the cultural festival. Looking at it, Yotasuke tries to predict the amount of time the one he’ll have to work on himself will need. Sounds tiresome. There must be a way out. 

“My, my, Yatora. I didn’t know you’d be this passionate about the festival,” Hashida notes.  

Yatora and Maki tagged along with the other two, partly because of Yuki, partly because of the dance show, mainly to spend time with their friends before they leave in two weeks.  

“Okay guys, a bit closer, Yotasuke-kun, smile a little!!” Maki tries to take the picture. The two taller boys attempt to close the space between them with Yotasuke in the middle. The last one doesn’t comply with Maki’s request and keeps a neutral face.  

Feeling Hashida and Yatora’s bodies so close to him was weird, for Yotasuke. Not excruciating, but weird. For the past few days, he and Yatora would only see each other in the evenings, and then the two would be too tired to communicate properly.  

“How are rehearsals going?” Yotasuke would ask.  

“Long and tiring,” Yatora would answer “How is school?”  

“Tiring and long.” And then both would continue to listen to music and pay attention to their little screens, minding their own life.  

“Maki-chan, don’t you want a picture in front of the mikoshi too?” Yatora asks, ready to take the phone and take the picture himself.  

“Yep, stay right there, where you are,” she says as she switches between the back camera to the front camera. She holds two fingers up, forming a peace sign and winks at the camera while taking the picture. In the background Yatora is showcasing his biggest smile, nose scrunching up and eyes almost closed, Hashida keeps his usual constant facial expression – that sly smile, the kind that comes off as deceiving but not intentionally – and Yotasuke, who is trying not to frown too deep. He’d like to ditch them anytime to go watch the painting gallery, and then just head home and play Pokemon.  

“You’re sure you don’t want me to take a picture for you?” Yatora offers one more time.  

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Maki brushes it off, careful not to offend her friend.  

Before they could go and admire the other mikoshis the university has to show off, older students start to gather in front of them. Every group seems to have a different happi, some are complex enough to gather Yotasuke’s attention. Deep dark blue, vivid magenta, ashy green. Every department had a unique and beautiful design.  

“Let’s go watch the parade too!” Hashida suggests. Please say no, please say no...  

But of course, the two dancers couldn’t refuse such an offer. Not when the costumes were so eye-catching, not when the mikoshis were so well done. And Yotasuke couldn’t bring himself to say something that might blow the mood or leave. He bites his tongue for their sake and tags along. 

The first mikoshi to part is the design course one, a dark raven piercing a green dragon with a trigon. Creative. However, their happis are just a bland white and black combination. Then it’s the vocal music course, deep dark blue happis with golden ink. How are the singers better at clothing design than the designers themselves? Oil painting course with the horse mikoshi and green happis depicting a brown monkey on their back. Not bad, not good either. Red happis with white circles drawn on the back, symbolizing the sun carry the next one... is that... Anubis? The Egyptian god? They were pretty innovative there.  

Yotasuke’s thoughts are interrupted by drums. Lots of them. He turns his head towards the source of the noise. People. Identical yellow and green t-shirts. Playing drums. There are so many different types of drums, how are there so many?  

Some of these people have a happi tied around their waist or wearing it on their shoulders, meaning the drum players are not from a specific course. Maybe they are a student club. Why would anyone spend time outside of University for this? Yotasuke wonders.  

“SAMBA!” Yatora shouts next to him. Samba? Isn't that some Brazilian dance?  “Yotasuke-kun?” Yatora hold his hands up, inviting Yotasuke to dance.  

“I don’t dance,” he replies, understanding the silent question. His cheeks turn pink at the idea of him dancing in front of so many people. Yatora accepts the rejection and takes Maki for a duet. How does he know how to dance samba, he’s a ballet student...?  

“ Save me the next dance, Maki-chan.” Hashida winks at her. How does HE know samba?   

Yotasuke can’t help but feel anxious and out of place. He did not sign up for this. He just wanted to go and watch the art exposition, not to feel weird because he doesn’t know how to dance.  

But his intrusive thoughts dissipate when he sees the two teenagers dancing. How do they do it so well without any practice? Isn't this the first time they hear this song too? It looks so natural for them to move, they don’t even mess up or step on the other one’s feet; it’s beautiful. So much confidence in every movement. Yotasuke should feel jealous, but, instead, he feels inspired.  

The song is far from being over, but Yatora allows Hashida to take the lead, just like Maki promised. He's way clumsier, but neither him nor Maki seem to mind. The singing club notices the two and invites them to join the group.  

The atmosphere becomes a little more relaxed, and even Yotasuke finds himself vibing with the ambience, rocking his head to the music’s rhythm. Ten minutes later, the duo rejoins them due to Hashida’s lower stamina. How do those two do it? Have dance classes and rehearsals 6 days a week and they still find energy to move this much on their day off.  

After the music club, there doesn’t seem to be any more mikoshis – is this the entire parade? They continue marching alongside the drums with the two dancers doing some hand dance, much more like throwing and wiggling their hands around in circles, until they reach the terminal. 

Needless to say, the parade wasn’t just four mikoshis. In the middle of the park there were around six more mikoshis that they didn’t see. Every single one looks intricate and spectacular. Even Yotasuke would agree. Such a large piece of art must demand so much work.  

There seems to be even more drums players. And even more students with different happi designs. The Geisai it’s no joke... 

Yotasuke knows what’s next. More dance. He wonders if Yatora would dare to go on stage and join them. Would he?  

There were three different groups that performed a dance – which Yatora contented himself to only watching in silence – before awarding the prize for the best mikoshi. The winner was some obscure and simple piece. How do they even choose the winner? What’s the criteria? Yotasuke wonders. 

“I’m starving,” Yatora breaks his silence. Hashida and Maki were chatting about who knows what but stop to pay him attention. “Let’s head back to the campus and get something to eat, I’ve seen quite a few stands with food.” Finally, they’re going back. 

“By the way,” Hashida says on the walk back to the University through the park, “what was that? A fish dive?” He asks about one ballet move that one of the dancing groups incorporated in their performance.  

“No, it is similar, but that one was overhead, it was a lift,” Maki corrects him. “You were close, though,” she adds, just to stroke his ego. Hashida has been studying the moves lately, it’s not an easy thing to do on your own when every ballet move looks almost identical. Like, what’s even the difference between pas de chat and pas de bourrée?  

“What are you getting?” Yatora asks. He is still thinking about food and how hungry he is. “I am in the mood for Takoyaki.”  

"I saw a good mapo tofu stand,” Hashida says.  

“MAPO TOFU?” Of course Maki is eager about food.  

Hashida takes her hand and leads her through the public to the stand. “Sichuan style with lots of attention to the spice,” according to him.  

Yotasuke wasn’t feeling necessarily hungry or craving Takoyaki, but he did have an appetite. He sticks with Yatora out of convenience. Just because he doesn’t feel like going to a stall where he doesn’t know what they’re selling, and thinking about the chance of standing there, analyzing the menu for several minutes without an idea of what to get and having  people wait behind him, gave him enough anxiety. 

Blonde hair. Tall. Long, thin fingers.  

Yaguchi notices this person and his facial expression changes to a more troubled one. The other one seems to have noticed Yaguchi too. Once you make eye contact with someone it would be a little rude to ignore them. Right? Yaguchi leaves Yotasuke alone to talk with said person. On the other hand, Yotasuke stays where he is, chewing on his squid snack. He doesn't know this person, wouldn’t it be weird if he went and just sat there, listening to their conversation?  

Isn’t it already weird that you’re staring at them? His brain doesn’t give him a break. He turns his head and looks at the paper plate and how the wood sticks are stuck in the dough balls. Yatora returns with a frown on his face. Did he notice Yotasuke staring?   

Their friends return with their own food share. Yep, definitely Sichuan style. Even Hashida’s face starts to turn red from all the spices. He’s glad he went with Yatora, the Takoyaki was tasty.  

They’re sitting on the grass eating when someone from a nearby stand shouts.  

“HEY! HEY! HEY!” 

“What the-” 

“KEEEMAAAA C-C-C-CUUURYYY!! THE TRADITIONAL VOLLEYBALL CLUB RECEIPE!!!”  

How does someone have the power to shout this loud? He keeps going before a teacher comes to silence him.  

Yotasuke and Yaguchi finish their snack, even Hashida seems to have eaten up most of his portion. Maki, however, was struggling, it must be the spiciness.  

They head inside to finally watch the exposition. The part that Yotasuke waited for the most. 

Disappointing.  

He only glances at most of the pieces, they just don’t catch his eye.  

Despite that, Yatora takes his time to analyze every painting and sculpture. The brushstrokes, the colors, the shapes. He seems to be very absorbed by it. Why is Yatora so slow with this? There is nothing that fascinating, this isn’t a van Gogh exposition where you can get lost in the waved, crude brushstrokes.  

Yotasuke must wait for him while doing so, so he darts towards the pieces one more time. And again. And again. Trying to find at least one interesting detail.  

He turns his eyes towards Yatora, hoping to see him ready to leave. The boy is looking at a small painting on the wall, slightly bending forward and hands held together at his back.  

The light, the shadow, the composition, the contrast and the colors. Everything blends so …nicely. The picture would make a perfect painting. A spectacular one. Why didn’t Yotasuke bring his notebook with him? He takes his phone out. Should he sneak a picture? Of course not, idiot, that’s a stupid idea... What kind of creep takes picture of people without asking them?  

Yatora is a painting in a room full of paintings. 

He keeps his gaze on the other boy for a few seconds more before, quickly, returning to the ground, so Yaguchi doesn’t notice him staring. He has done a lot of that today. He doesn’t want to be perceived as a weirdo, not by Yaguchi at least. Being around him felt good. And his dancing inspired Yotasuke to be better at painting. It would be troublesome to break ties with him. 

“Sorry for making you wait, Yotasuke-kun,” Yatora excuses himself later.  

Hashida and Maki hadn’t returned yet, to Yatora’s discontent, he would’ve liked to talk with Maki’s sister. But spending time with Yotasuke wasn’t bad either.  

“Thank you for being here, Yotasuke-kun! I don’t think I could have this much fun without you.”  

Why would you say that? We barely even talked. Yotasuke doesn’t voice his thoughts.  

He only says “I’m glad you had a good time.” 

“Yaguuuuchiii-kuuuunnn~!” Yuki’s voice echoes from afar. 

School projects here, painting there, forgotten notes on the table. Yotasuke’s chamber is a real mess. He is a real mess. School shouldn’t be this hectic and busy for senior students. They should just prepare for the University admission, not for useless subjects they won’t need any more in a couple of months.  

He runs his hand through his hair while finishing the essay. It comes out oily. He sniffs his t-shirt. When was the last time he took a shower? He must endure this life for just a few more months, then he’ll graduate, and he’ll have to focus on his art degree only.  

He gathers a fresh change of clothes and a towel and heads towards the bathroom to wash himself. His body is stiff from mainly sitting through the entire weekend. He didn’t even go out for Tobi, school was too busy for him to consider anything else.  

Yaguchi kept sending him cat pictures, it was their way of communicating – cat memes. Other than that, there weren’t many things to talk over through texts. If a text message was sent, it was most likely to let the other one know they would come in late and can’t meet in the train. So he doesn’t complain when hearing multiple pings in a row from Yaguchi, he likes cats.  

Yotasuke sets for a shower. Quick and efficient, it is late, and he has to return to his room to clean it. 

The water is hot. That's how he likes his showers.  

Tomorrow’s the day before Yatora leaves for Osaka. Would he send him cat memes even from Osaka? What if he sees some really cool cats on the street? Yotasuke makes a mental note to ask Yaguchi to send him pictures of every cat he sees there.  

He reaches for the shampoo bottle. 

Yaguchi will be gone for two weeks. That means he’ll have to go home alone from Tobi for two weeks. 

Rinse. Shower gel bottle. Rub.  

Why was Yotasuke thinking about Yaguchi though? He took the train from Shinjuku alone for over a year before meeting him. He likes taking the train alone. But he also likes taking the train with Yaguchi.  

Rub.  

Yaguchi understands his personal boundaries – for most of the time. And he doesn’t force Yotasuke to do anything, like talking, if Yotasuke doesn’t feel like it. 

Rub. 

I hope Yaguchi will have fun in Osaka, Yotasuke thinks. He rinses the soap off his body. Takes the towel and rubs his skin. He has some specs over his shoulders and arms, back and chest. How does genetics even work? His parents don’t have this many moles.  

He puts on a pair of long baggy sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. Takes another towel and lets it on his shoulders to absorb the water from his wet hair.  

“Come here,” He says out loud while lifting the cat that has been scratching the bathroom door, asking to be let in. Why do cats even do that? They don’t even like water. 

He carries Fumi to his room, closing the door behind him.  

“I’ll play with you in a minute.” He pets her head before returning to his desk. Gathering papers and sorting them, depending on the subject. He gathers the cups and water bottles and takes them to the kitchen. After doing the dishes and sorting the plastic, he returns to his room. Fumi has fallen asleep on his futon in his absence.  

She sleeps all day, yet she’s the one that is tired.  

There are some more paintings that need to be taken to the basement. Maybe he should switch to painting on paper instead of a canvas, at home, that would be less expensive, and it would occupy less space. His mother, however, insists on keeping every piece he makes. 

This one was from last week, another statue. That one had an abstract theme. Next to it is... well, the thing. 

Why is it so ugly? Should he redo it? But it looks kind of fine?  

Troubling. Yotasuke decides it should go to the basement. He can’t do anything about it anymore. And he doesn’t have a passion for being frustrated at home. So why should it be showcased in his room? It just reminds him of the art block he had earlier that year. 

His art improved quite a lot during summer.   

He finishes tidying up the room and falls into his futon next to Fumi. He reaches for the console and falls asleep cuddling with the cat. Sleeping with her makes him have the best dreams.  

6:45 AM. Breakfast. Clothes. Train. School. 

Big, simple and black sweater over a plain white shirt. Skinny jeans. Checkered jacket. Is this what classy people dress like? However, classy people don’t casually wear combat boots.  

Why must his style must be this confusing?   

He takes a look at himself in the glass door before entering. He is bored of the person looking back at him. He feels like something needs changing. Maybe he should paint his fingernails or change his hair color. Would school allow that?   

He can’t daydream for too long, he doesn’t want to be late for this class and have problems with the teacher. He goes up the stairs with his back hunched due to the backpack’s heaviness. At least he finished every assignment.  

He arrives in his classroom. His seat is empty. Sato-san is sick today. Would she mind if Yotasuke sat in her place today? If Yotasuke sits in his usual place he’ll remember his painting. How it sucks. Why does a single painting have this much influence on him?  

“Please sit down, Takahashi-kun,” the teacher breaks his train of thought.  

Yotasuke fumbles for a moment, unsure which seat to occupy, but in the end, he goes to Sato’s place. 

“Now, please, take a piece of paper, write your name and the date…” 

… 

Of course they would get a surprise quiz.  

The life of an honor student isn’t easy. 

“Did you know that there’s a marine animal that releases ink, Yotasuke-kun?” 

“I think everyone knows about squids, Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke replies, trying not to be too rude. It wasn’t Yaguchi’s fault that his day sucked. Besides, the boy will leave tomorrow and Yotasuke doesn’t want him to leave with a bad impression. 

“No-no, I mean, like a sea snail. And the ink is this pretty pink color. They release it when a predator is around,” Yaguchi looks at Yotasuke. The latter was preoccupied with the floor. “Our character dance teacher told us, Ooba-sensei likes these things,” Yaguchi tries to keep the conversation going. 

“How is that even related to dance?” Yotasuke decides to lift his head and face Yaguchi. 

“It’s not,” Yaguchi chuckles. “But why do you think everything we do has to be about ballet?”  

Yotasuke hums. He needs a few moments to force himself to gather the energy to physically reply and be invested in the chat. It’s not fair to Yaguchi if he only listens and doesn’t put in some effort.  

“My cousin. Seeing her grow up, her entire life was about dance. I guess I’m just biased, I’m sorry.”  

“It’s okay Yotasuke-kun. How was your day?” Yaguchi tries to change the subject to something Yotasuke might want to talk more about than some silly little sea snails and their pink ink. 

Yotasuke listens to the question. And he replays it in his brain. Again, and again. Weird. No trace of annoyance.  

“Tiring,” he sighs and stands up in his seat. “School has a lot of requirements for us. Can’t wait to go home to my cat,” he heaves one more time, a faint smile is on his lips at the thought of his cat.  

“Besides, my feet HURT from these!” He stretches his feet from under his seat and points at the boot. They are big and chunky, the kind of ones that make your legs look like two sticks when you wear them. 

Yatora chortles. “Those will destroy your feet worse than pointe shoes,” he jokes. 

“Why can’t they make comfortable boots? Why do I have to choose between being tall or wearing comfortable shoes? That’s unfair,” Yotasuke dramatically complains.  

Yaguchi smirks at that. He puts his hand on Yotasuke’s shoulder, taping it once, and says “Don’t sweat it, Yotasuke-kun, your height is perfect even without those extra centimeters.”  

After that he stands up, pulling his dance bag over the shoulder. Yotasuke tries not to grimace due to the broken personal space. 

Yatora steps in front of the train door, looking forward with a stoic expression on his face, waiting for the train to stop. Holding into a bar with one hand, and onto his headset with the other. 

“Hey, Yotasuke-kun," Yatora turns his head towards his ride mate. “I’m going away for two weeks, but when I’m back I want to go out with you.” He says. Then he proceeds to press the door button for it to open, and step outside, while fixing his headphones over his head. 

Inside the train, Yotasuke is left startled.  

Eyes empty, as if a car hit him. He turns his head towards the window, looking for Yaguchi to give him an explanation. The latter can’t be seen. 

“Stupid Yaguchi,” he whispers, breaking his trance. 

He fetches his phone from his back jeans pocket and taps Yaguchi a text message. 

[ Yotasuke ]: Send me pics of every cat you see out there in Osaka. 

“Good evening, Yotasuke. How was your day?”  

Yotasuke goes past her, directly into his room.  

“This boy...” she heaves disapprovingly, too low for him to hear, not like he would care at that moment. 

He gathers the three painted canvases that are in his room and goes to the basement. He leaves them next to the other paintings, arranging the frames so they do not crumble and make a mess, forcing him to clean after and spend more time than necessary there, surrounded by his previous work.  

They are like ghosts of unknown relatives to him. Their presence is creepy. Despite being the creator, Yotasuke feels like he is the controlled one. Each painting tells a story about the person he was when he painted said picture. If one were to put every painting Yotasuke created in chronological order they could decipher his entire persona. Scary. He turns off the light and goes up the stairs, separating himself from the graveyard they call the basement.  

Back in the appartement, Yotasuke walks to the kitchen and picks up a piece of seed bread that he heats in the microwave. He likes its texture better that way, the seeds are crunchy, and the bread is soft and warm. That'll be his dinner. His parents don’t agree with him not eating dinner, or eating alone in his room, but what will they do? Drag him to the kitchen and spoon feed him? He ignores his mother's protests, his father doesn’t say anything, but Yotasuke knows he’s looking at him in a judgmental way. He avoids any eye contact with him while in the kitchen. 

Fumi follows him to his room, and he closes the door behind her, letting the cat enter the room. He lets the piece of bread cool on his desk while changing into PJs. Isn't it funny how his PJ t-shirt is almost 5 years old, there are 5 years old kids running around. Crazy.  

Crazy... 

Yaguchi is crazy. Why did he have to say that? What did he even mean by it? 

“when I’m back I want to go out with you...”  

Go out? Like friends, right? The word use is confusing. Why doesn’t Yaguchi express himself like he does on the stage?  

Stupid. 

He fetches his bread and sits on the floor, leaning on the wall while Fumi makes herself comfortable on his lap. Yotasuke rips a piece of his bread and gives it to the cat.  

“At least you aren’t complicated, Fumi.”  

He wants to paint it. He has the entire image preplanned in his head. He knows what colors to use and how to sketch the anatomy. And his body cooperates just right. He can’t get through an art block, not now. He is so focused on painting that he cannot feel Hashida’s hand on his arm, trying to catch his attention.  

“Are you alright, Sekai-kun?” How is Hashida so perceiving? It's a scary thought. What else did he notice but didn’t vocalize through the years they’ve known knew each other? 

Yotasuke hums. He doesn’t want to share his thoughts with Hashida, especially not personal stuff related, and he doesn’t want art advice from him. Maybe the school exhaustion has caught up to him. He didn’t consider, it but maybe he’s burnt out. Maybe.   

Yotasuke reaches for the paint tube, he dips the smallest brush he owns in pure white and adds the last details in his work. What will Matsuo-sensei think about this? Is this good enough for Geidai? Yeah... Yotasuke thinks it is good enough. 

“How do you know how to do it?” Yotasuke asks, eyes still focused on the painting 

“Excuse me, Sekai-kun?” Hashida asks, genuinely surprised by the sudden reaction. He didn’t imagine Yotasuke would want to talk, not when he is focused on painting. 

“Samba. At the Geisai. Where did you learn that?” Yotasuke continues, trying to clear the confusion he created. He dips his last brush in oil, getting ready to clean it. 

“That wasn’t real Samba, Sekai,” Hashida answers. “The drums players are called Geidai Samba Party, but it’s not real Brazilian Samba,” he explains.  

“Whatever… how do you know how to dance?” Yotasuke asks impatiently, trying to understand something else, not as related to dance as it comes off.  

“Ah...” That’s the only sound Hashida makes to let Yotasuke know he understood what the latter meant. “Well... Kuwana-san had the kindness to teach me. She said she needed more practice. I don’t know why she didn’t ask Yatora directly, I imagine it’s better to practice with someone who knows what they’re doing. It took a lot of time for me to get used to the rhythm.”  

“How long?” Yotasuke asks. Hashida doesn’t reply, he doesn’t know how to. “You two seem pretty close,” Yotasuke continues, turning his head towards Hashida. 

The other one was staring outside the window. A pair of crows were flying over the buildings around the campus.  

“I guess...” he says. That's the most silent Yotasuke has ever seen Hashida be. Does Hashida not like people peering into his life? I guess it’s quite normal to protect your personal life, Yotasuke thinks and doesn’t continue to push the conversation. 

“Sakuraba-san’s paintings are awesome, aren’t them?” Hashida changes the topic, seeing Hanako returning from the sensei’s office.  

“Yeah, she is really good...” Yotasuke acknowledges. Hanako’s paintings have been ranked first for every evaluation lately. Her style is just... so unique and uninhibited.  

Despite never talking to her one on one, Yotasuke felt like he could understand her entire personality from her paintings. Is this what a good artist looks like? 

“Hashida-kun, it’s your turn,” Matsuo sensei comes next to Haruka, putting a hand on his shoulder, asking the boy to follow him for the personal feedback for the day.  

Yotasuke returns to his brush cleaning, waiting for his turn with sensei. 

That evening Yotasuke puts his bag on the seat next to him out of habit. No one will enter the wagon at the Hatsudai station with the intent of sitting next to him. 

His headphones’ volume is lowered. But no one will talk to him. 

From time to time, he lifts his eyes, wondering which station is next and how far he is from his stop. But no one will be there, next to him, to meet his eyes. 

I don’t even know when I started to search for you in the crowd...   

Chapter Text

At home, just the usual: his mother asking him about his day and Yotasuke trying to keep his annoyance at low while replying to her. Thank goodness Fumi exists. Yotasuke doesn’t know how he could deal with people on a daily basis if the cat wouldn’t help him recharge every time he is at home. 

He sits on his bed, ready to join a gaming server as his last activity for the night when his phone makes a sound.  

Hah... 

He really did it. 

[ Yotasuke ] : Hello to you too. 

[ Yotasuke ] : Where did you see it? 

[ Yaguchi ] : We were walking home from rehearsals 

Yotasuke smirks at his phone. Yatora actually sent him a picture of a cat he saw on the street.  

[ Yaguchi ] : I’m sorry for not texting you all day (-ω-、) 

[ Yaguchi ] : the bus drive was soooooooo loooonggg 

Yotasuke can actually imagine Yatora saying it. He'd throw his hands around, trying to capture how long it was. 

[ Yotasuke ] : You don’t have to excuse yourself, Yaguchi-san 

[ Yotasuke ] : I’m not your mother 

Yaguchi takes a moment to reply. In the meantime, Yotasuke returns to his console.  

Yotasuke lifts his phone to read the new text while focusing on the Switch screen.  

[ Yaguchi ] : how about daddy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄) 

WHAT THE FUCK YAGUCHI  

Yotasuke is ready to type an angry reply about how that was too inappropriate for him to say when Yaguchi returns with another text message. 

[ Yaguchi ] : my roommate  

[ Yaguchi ] : took the phone away from me 

[ Yaguchi ] : why isn’t there an option to unsend messages?!?!?!?!???!!!! 

[ Yaguchi ] : (O_O;) 

[ Yaguchi ] : I’m really sorry Yotasuke-kun 

Yotasuke looks at the thread of messages that come in, one after another. Nope. He isn’t dealing with that tonight. He turns on the do not disturb mode for the night and continues gaming. His mind is blank. No thoughts, just gaming.... 

“Men ain’t shit, Fumi,” he mumbles, putting his hand over the cat’s head, scratching her ears. The cat only purrs, most likely in agreement with her owner’s statement.  

6:45AM. Clothes. Breakfast. Train. School. Just the morning routine of a highschool student. After classes he returns home for a quick meal before leaving for Tobi.  

All of this without even switching the do not disturb mode off. Somehow he forgot about it. But sometimes, through the day, he’d remember about it, thinking he’ll turn it off later, only for memories of Yaguchi’s supposed 'roommate' to fill his brain. 

Yaguchi deserves this. Silent treatment. 

Yotasuke is washing his hands in the Tobi sixth floor bathroom. His under eye is purple. His eye globes look a bit bloodshot too. Maybe he should’ve gone to bed a little earlier. 

Or not. He’s young, staying up late a little from time to time didn’t kill anyone.  

He wipes his hands with a paper towel and looks at himself straight in the eye. 

He gets it…  

“It’s a beautiful drawing, Takahashi-kun,” Matsuo-sensei praises him. It wasn’t an actual praise. That was the teacher’s way of giving review, appreciating every work the students would make and focusing on the positive traits. Does that even help us improve?   

“But you need to work more on the expression of emotion.” 

What does that even mean?  

“Thank you,” Yotasuke gets ready to leave his seat. However, he stops before pressing the doorknob down. “Sensei, what do you think could help?” 

Matsuo-sensei is a middle-aged man. Grey hair shows here and there, it’s his natural hair’s dark color that makes it pop. He wears round glasses, he likes them like that because they are in an Italian style. Back in his days he went to Joshiki and graduated from the oil painting department. Through the years he proved himself an excellent teacher, always ready to welcome his students.  

His interest in Yotasuke was awakened upon the boy’s first session at Tobi. Such a crude and organic essence of art. Doing things differently from anyone else, not with the intent to rebel, but because that’s how he simply… does it. But the boy lacked comprehension. One cannot display to the public something they cannot understand. This was Yotasuke in Matsuo’s eyes. 

“Everyone is different, Takahashi-kun.” 

How specific  

“Try to think about your life and create a map. People map, places map, habits map. Try to understand what is affecting you. How it is affecting you. Why is affecting you, and how is that making you feel.” The teacher ends his sentence, looking at Yotasuke with his usual gentle expression.  

The kid returns to the door, his back towards the teacher, he feels his eyes on him, he can’t face him now. 

“I see… thank you sensei,” he says before picking up the canvas and leaving the studio. The teacher follows shortly after, asking the next student to join him for their personal review.  

Maps … Yotasuke thinks in his train seat.  

Maps.  

Something inside his brain lights up. He fetches his phone from the jacket pocket, ready to note down his idea when he notices the little eclipse on screen. 

Oh right, it’s still on, Yotasuke thinks as he is finally deactivating the do not disturb mode. 

Instead of going directly to the notes app he checks the messages app.  

… 

Is this even allowed? Wouldn’t they cancel his account? 

HOW  ARE THERE SO MANY TEXTS FROM YAGUCHI?! 

[ Yaguchi ] : I 

[ Yaguchi ] : am 

[ Yaguchi ] : really 

[ Yaguchi ] : REALLY 

Did he really have to send messages spelling “really” by individual letters? Spammer. 

[ Yaguchi ] : sorry 

[ Yaguchi ] : please forgive me Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : *sent a video* 

Yotasuke stops the song that’s playing to check what Yaguchi sent him.  

Background laughing. Shaky camera. How the hell are you so skilled with your body when you can’t take a decent video, Yaguchi-san?  Yotasuke wonders, annoyed at the low quality of the video. 

Then Yaguchi starts speaking. English?  

“It’s your fault, apologize,” his voice is exasperated, but not in an angry way. His nervous voice is both shaking and trying not to laugh himself too. 

The camera pans up, and despite being blurry and moving, Yotasuke can decipher another male.  

“I do not understand what you are saying,” he laughs, trying to act innocent. His English is correct but the accent is… funny. 

“Yes you do, pleeeease, apologize,” Yaguchi begs him, shoving the camera in front of his face. The other one tries to cover his face with his hands, more in a theatrical way, trying to pose dramatically, but his smile was too obvious for anyone to take him seriously. 

“Come oonnn, he might never talk to me again!!” Is the last thing Yaguchi says before the video ends.  

What the fuck are you doing there, Yaguchi?  

The next text message is another blurry picture, the background is dark, it looks like Yaguchi took the picture using flash. The boy in the video has his back to the camera, sitting on top of a bed. The blanket on the bed seems to be moving, as if being in the process of covering himself with it when Yaguchi took the picture. 

[ Yaguchi ] : This is my roommate 

[ Yaguchi ] : his name is Sergio Antonio 

[ Yaguchi ] : but he prefers just Sergio 

[ Yaguchi ] : he’s from Italy, he came here just for the summer project 

The next series of messages are a few more excuses, then some morning texts, and more excuses. 

Great, Sergio might not be speaking Japanese, but he knows how to spell 'daddy', Yotasuke ponders. 

The last messages have been sent 20 minutes ago. A cat. It’s the same as the evening before. 

[ Yaguchi ] : look who I found again ~(=^–^) 

[ Yaguchi ] : how was your day Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : if you’ll ever reply to me 

[ Yaguchi ] : Please do 

Yotasuke reads the texts, so focused that he almost misses his stop. He feels his face hot, he looks at his reflection in the front camera. His face is red. Is he getting sick? 

Damn it, I forgot my idea, he realizes after closing the text application, without replying to any of Yaguchi’s messages. 

Stupid Yaguchi. 

Yotasuke goes out of the train station and proceeds on his usual home road.  

Hah, even Sakura trees lose their liveliness in the fall… 

The cat is running towards the door upon hearing it open. She tries to take a turn but ends up slipping on the floor and rolls into the shoes stand.  

“I’m home,” Yotasuke announces after closing the door, hanging his coat on the hallstand. 

His mother appears from the kitchen. Yotasuke has already prepared his answer. 

“Good evening, how was your day, Yotasuke?” 

“Pretty good,” is the only thing he replies before heading to his room to leave his bag.  

He lets his phone on his desk, his parents do not allow him to use it during dinner. The easel next to him is empty, maybe he should paint tonight. Or should he work on what Matsuo sensei told him? What if he can do both at the same time. Multitasking.  

“Good evening, father,” the boy greets his parents in the kitchen. He is helping his mother arranging the table for dinner.  

“Let me take that,” Yotasuke insists, seeing his mother carry the plates. They aren’t heavy, but he’d like to be of good use.  

He puts a rice bowl in front of every seat. Then he returns to the stove to pick up the plates his mother already prepped with the dishes. Fish, the kind that Yotasuke likes, without any small bones that destroy the texture, boiled spinach and bell peppers for extra vitamins, and soup, easy to digest, ideal for a late meal. He takes the rice cooker and puts it in the middle of the table. 

“Itadakimasu” Yotasuke humbly says, waiting for his father to fill his rice bowl before reaching for it himself.  

“How are University preparations?” his father asks. 

“Good. Making progress,” Yotasuke replies, getting ready to pick a side dish and put it over his rice.  

“Is the progress good enough for you to get accepted?”  

Yotasuke stops chewing for a second, spooked by the question. What was that supposed to mean? Why is he asking it that way?  

“I guess,” he says, dumbfounded.  

His father only hums in agreement. 

Does he think Yotasuke won’t get accepted? Why isn’t his mother saying anything? Does she also question his capability to pass the exam?  

The two adults start a conversation of their own, leaving their son fuming alone.  

Hah, of course this would happen  

He thanks his mother for the meal one more time before leaving the kitchen.  

“Your new ID has arrived,” she says. “It’s in the hallway basket.” 

Yotasuke collects the said document on his way to his bedroom, opening the envelope to see it. 

He rises one eyebrow, scoffing at the small headshot. He’ll be 18, soon… 

Adulthood, university. Maybe he’ll live alone at some point. If he can afford it. Living with your parents is free, at the expenses of your mental health. But you get a cooked meal and a clean room. It’s all about compromises. 

Yotasuke picks up his phone from the table. His phone unlocks immediately at the contact with the fingerprint. Text message app. 

[ Yotasuke ] : Is the cat a stray or do its owner allow it to wander like that 

He ignores Yaguchi’s excuses, focusing on the cat. He picks up an empty canvas and props it on the easel. 

Maps… 

Ugh, he cannot remember the idea he had on the train. Annoying, stupid Yaguchi. It’s only his fault. 

Ping . 

Speak of the devil. 

[ Yaguchi ] : I don’t know 

[ Yaguchi ] : The others say they saw her pretty often 

[ Yaguchi ] : She has a collar so I doubt she’s a stray 

Yotasuke goes back to the cat picture, zooming in. She’s a white cat with a few grey spots on the back. One is even covering her right eye. Indeed, she wears a red collar.  

[ Yaguchi ] : I tried to pet her 

[ Yaguchi ] : she’s very gentle 

[ Yaguchi ] : *sent a picture* 

It’s him, kneeling down next to the cat. Yotasuke saves the picture.  

[ Yotasuke ] : cute 

He picks up a pen and starts sketching some compositions in his notebook. His father’s comment still lingers in his mind. He tries to stay focused on the paper in front of him. He sends another text message to Yaguchi. 

[ Yotasuke ] : The cat, not you 

[ Yaguchi ] : you’re right, Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yotasuke ]: Gn 

His phone pings one more time before turning silent. Yotasuke starts sketching on the canvas, his picture gallery open. 

6:53 AM 

“Happy birthday, Yota.” 

12:11 PM 

“Happy birthday, Sekai-kun.” 

18:43 PM 

“Happy birthday, Takahashi-kun.” 

20:32 PM 

[ Yaguchi ] : Haaaappppyyyy birthdaaaayyy to youuu 

[ Yaguchi ] : happy birthday to you 

[ Yaguchi ] : happy birthday to youuu, Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : Hashida-san told me it’s your birthday 

[ Yotasuke ] : thank you, Yaguchi-san 

Saturday morning  

He leaves his house sooner than expected that day. He wants to be early, yet his steps aren’t quicker than usual. He takes the regular train, stopping on his way to his first destination for the day. 

“Black, please,” he says.  

The barista isn’t Utashima anymore. Well, he’s a highschool student, he probably went back to classes, and to be fair, neither did Yotasuke visit the coffee shop since the beginning of September either.  

He takes his paper cup and proceeds on his usual road to Tobi. Despite everything being part of a routine, he is well aware that something is missing. The factor that ties everything about this said routine together. The morning train, the coffee shop, the specific road to Tobi. 

The weather outside is wet. It isn’t raining, but small and incessant water drops are everywhere around him. Mist. One hand is holding the warm coffee and the other the umbrella. He needs to switch them regularly due to his hand getting cold. I should’ve get a pair of gloves if I knew it would be this cold. It is September. 

At Tobi, he seems to be the first one to arrive, even sensei is shocked to see him at that hour. He lets his umbrella dry, hangs his coat and starts to work. And as he’s working, more people join the studio. 

First it’s Sakuraba-san, she’s always early, before anyone else. Okada-san follows quickly, just a few moments later. 20 minutes later Ishii-san shows up. There aren’t that many people that come in during weekends, let alone when it is raining outside.  

Hah, I’m kind of glad he didn’t show up today… Yotasuke contemplates, washing his hands in the bathroom after cleaning the brushes.  

Back in the workroom, Yotasuke collects everything he owns, arranges his easel and chair, puts on his bag and leaves through the front door. He gives one last look that says he won’t be back that day. Arriving earlier allowed him to finish the painting and leave sooner too. 

His feet move on their own. Checking the GPS from time to time, just to be sure he is following the correct path.  

The afternoon proved to be dryer than the morning, warmer too, but Yotasuke keeps his hands inside the open jacket pockets.  

One more corner. He looks around, searching for the correct sign.  

Ah, there it is.  

“Good afternoon…” he says as the door bell rings. 

He looks at his reflection in the mirror, inside his bathroom, tucking his hair behind his ears. They are red, not inflamed, the normal color that shows blood flow to the region. The pain has stopped a while ago, on the train. 

He turns his head and analyzes the other one. A double helix on one side and another helix and one orbital on the other. 

They’re ear piercings so it isn’t that much of a big deal, right? His hair will cover them for most of the time, they’re almost unnoticeable. Besides, he’s 18 now, an adult.  

The cat looks at him. Is she judging him? She holds up one paw, nearing his face.  

One swing and… 

“Fumi, no!” Yotasuke cries, curling on the floor and covering his ears. The damn cat wanted to play with his earrings, the grey sparkles must’ve caught her attention.  

He gets up, pissed, heading to his room, without the cat. Not because he hated the animal - it would take more for Yotasuke to hate his cat, if even possible – he planned to paint, and having animal fur on his canvas wouldn’t look good. Cleaning her fur from all the oil is also a troublesome task. 

Maps…  

Instead of aligning his chair in front of the easel, Yotasuke takes a piece of paper and sits at his desk. He writes his name in the middle and circles it. Then he writes Fumi’s name, close to his, connecting it with a line. He writes the word 'bestfriend' on said line. Then his parents, 'Mother' and 'Father'.  

He tries to brainstorm, just like Matsuo sensei has advised him. These are his parents and his bestfriend. How do they make him feel? And why? 

For Fumi the ideas come in easy. She’s his cat. His bestfriend. Emotional support. Why is that? She doesn’t have the ability to talk or judge him. Besides, she is warm and vibrates when happy. Who does even hate cats?  The cat, somehow, always sensed his uneasiness on the bad days, and, despite not being able to talk, she supported him in her simple, silent way.  

His parents. His father is… busy and absent, and he can be … scary at times… but he gives good advice and he has taught Yotasuke good work ethics and he treats Fumi nicely. His mother… she’s nice… sometimes… She’s very invested in his art skills and supports his goal. Even though… it feels like she’s the brain that makes the decisions and he’s just the member that executes these decisions.  

How does all of this make him feel?  

His front door opens and he goes out of his room to greet his mother.  

“I got these,” he says as he’s picking up the bags. 

“Thank you Yota. You are home early today, how was your day?…” of course she’d ask that. 

“Ara?” Yotasuke doesn’t get a chance to respond to her question. She looks at her son, tucking his hair behind the ear. 

Fuck. He didn’t expect her to notice. What will she say? Will she make some nasty comment about how pierced ears are just for girls and delinquents? 

“Did you get your ears pierced?” she asks, neutral tone. 

“Y-yeah,” Yotasuke stutters, not sure how he could protect himself from the sharp words she might say.  

When it comes from strangers, critiques do not touch him. But that is not the case for his parents. His mother. Through the years she has proven herself to be both the sweetest and harshest person in Yotasuke’s life. Either pampering him too much or neglecting specific areas from his existence. 

“They fit you well, silver is a good color for you,” is all she says. She rubs his head before passing him and going to the kitchen, waiting for her dumbstruck son to join with the grocery bags. 

Back to his room, Yotasuke writes the word 'parents' on the line connecting him to his mother and father. You can’t explain the relationship between a child and his parents in a simple way. It just is the way it is and the way they make each other feel is way more complex. He puts the paper away, in a random notebook, before moving the chair in front of the easel. 

“Sato-san, are you okay?” 

“You have been absent for pretty long, do you want my notes?” 

“Saaatoooo-kuuun I miised youuu~!” 

Ah, Sato-san is back… 

Yotasuke hears his classmates’ voices before entering the class. He sat in Sato’s place every day during her absence. It helped him take his mind off the troublesome relation he has with some aspects of his art. But she’s back now… 

Yotasuke proceeds to his usual place, trying to ignore the view from the window. 

“Hello, Sekai.”  

“Good evening, Hashida-san.” 

“How was you weekend?”  

“Good,” he answers dryly, not bothering with any details. He contemplates a moment before asking “What about yours? You didn’t come in during the weekend.” This is the code, right? Someone asks a question about you and you ask a question about them.   

“A friend had some works exposed, I went to help him,” who is this friend? Nah, Yotasuke doesn’t want to ask about this person and risk being engrossed in a Hashida style monologue. 

“I see…” he replies, absently. The elevator door opens and allows them to walk inside the 6th floor. 

Sensei’s door, the last on the hall, is open, just like the usual. He is always available for the students to come in with whatever thing they have that bugs them about art as long as someone else isn’t already in the office. 

He usually leaves the prompts in a basket next to the workshop door, so the students, that can come in at different hours, can pick it up and work in their rhythm. 

'Environment for the week.'

What is that even supposed to mean? 

Hashida looks over at the piece of paper. His phone vibrates.  

His usual smile changes for a split second to an amused smirk. 

“Sekai-kun, check your phone.” 

“What the…?” 

He picks up the phone. But there is nothing. Why did Hashida tell him to look at his phone if there is nothing. He tries to peek into Hashida’s phone to understand better, but Hashida turns the screen towards him so he can see better. 

Oh. 

It’s a picture from Maki and Yaguchi. He then proceeds quickly to his messages app. A group chat with Hashida, Maki and Yaguchi. He muted it, that’s why he didn't receive the picture. He remembers getting too many notifications that would disturb him from the music and he just muted them, he wasn’t interacting anyway. 

The picture is a selfie, the two are holding up peace signs, tucking their lips and winking at the camera.  

While Yotasuke was focused on understanding the situation, Hashida was zooming in the picture. On Maki. His smile turns bittersweet… 

'Get ready for villager A and B' is the description Maki sent. Yotasuke tries to analyze the image. The two seem to be dressed up in, well, villager clothes. What performance is this? He exits the picture and scrolls up, trying to find the answer. Giselle, well it makes sense. 

Despite all that texting around, Yotasuke didn’t even ask Yaguchi how his performances are going. Congratulations, Yotasuke.   

Scrolling through the conversation, Yotasuke gets to see a picture of Maki, holding her costume skirt in a weird way, random selfies from Yaguchi with obscure angles (like just the corner of his eye or a very low angle, focusing on his nostrils).  

It’s pretty funny to see this duality. The perfect actors on the stage versus the goofy kids behind the curtains.  

More blurry pictures. Sergio. Well in this picture he’s actually looking at the camera and smiling. 

His hair is cut short, making his facial structure stick out. His lips are full, show casting a picture perfect smile. Almond shaped eyes, with a glint of mischief inside of them. Yotasuke was already introduced to that part. The dark skin makes his entire look come together. He is beautiful. Perfect for the dance scene. 

[ Yotasuke ] : Good luck 

“Sekai-kun? did you pierce your ears?” Hashida finally lets go of the phone and looks at Yotasuke. 

“Good job, Takahashi-kun, but you need to do more,” the painting teacher advises him upon his personal review for that day. He painted something vague, related to adulthood, hinting about his 18th birthday. 

Snap.  Sent. 

[ Yaguchi ] : Whoaaaaah 

[ Yaguchi ] : it look just like her 

[ Yaguchi ] : omg omg 

[ Yaguchi ] : how are you so talented Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : I’m genuinely so jealous  

This is not how you compliment a painter, Yaguchi. 

[ Yotasuke ] : thank you 

It is a painting of the cat Yaguchi found on the Osaka streets. The dancer would send him a picture of her every evening after finishing rehearsals and heading back to the dorm. Surprisingly, none of them were blurry. 

He sent the picture in the morning, before leaving the house. He is now sitting in his school seat, not interested enough in the subject that the teacher is presenting.  

[ Yotasuke ] : how was the show? 

[ Yaguchi ] : pretty okay 

[ Yaguchi ] : Sergio got to play Herlion  

[ Yaguchi ] : *sent a picture* 

Yaguchi shouldn’t be allowed to use a camera. The picture is a zoom in on Sergio’s butt. 

Why are the ballet dancers’ ass cheeks so defined? Is it the leggings? 

[ Yotasuke ] : cursed 

[ Yaguchi ] : we went straight to the dorm afterwards (－.－)...zzz 

[ Yaguchi ] : the Osakas wanted to party 

[ Yaguchi ] : it was pretty fun

[ Yaguchi ] : but the day afterwards was… well

[ Yaguchi ] : you get it 

Why can’t he just send everything in one message? Yotasuke wonders, reading the messages Yaguchi is sending him. Feeling the notification vibration is annoying and it makes his music play lower whenever a new message arrives.  

He was wearing headphones, but he could sense something was up. He lifts his eyes from his phone just to see everyone looking at him, including the teacher. He didn’t realize it, but he was also smiling while texting Yaguchi. 

Fuck. 

He knows what’s next. He’ll have to land in the phone and wait for a few hours or even days, depending on the teacher, before he receives it back.  

But seriously, when will he use molecular biology at Geidai?  

“Takahashi-kun, can you answer the question?”  

What question?  

He fumbles for a second before answering “I-I don’t think so…” he tries his luck. Maybe the teacher wasn’t going to take his phone away. 

His classmates eye him one more time. They expected him to know, but not even geniuses know everything. 

“Anyone else?” The sensei turns to the rest of the class, a few hand rise up. 

That was close.  

Yotasuke puts his phone away for the rest of the session. He wouldn’t want to have it taken again. Having to inform his mother, a few days without it, having her lecture him… nothing fun. 

But Yotasuke wasn’t annoyed, he was afraid. Why is he so afraid of a little punishment? He doesn’t use his phone for much. And he has a backup iPod with music on it. So, being without his phone shouldn’t be such a big problem.  

Only that… it is the only way he can communicate with Yaguchi right now. 

[ Yaguchi ] : Look!! 

[ Yaguchi ] : *sent a picture* 

[ Yaguchi ] : she has a friend!! 

[ Yotasuke ] : !!!! 

It’s a picture of the same white and grey cat, sitting on a stone fence, another black cat sleeping next to her. 

[ Yaguchi ] : they’re so adorable 

[ Yaguchi ] : I wanted to show you asap, I’m sorry if you’re busy 

[ Yotasuke ] : Don’t worry, I’m about to head home 

[ Yotasuke ] : how are rehearsals going? 

[ Yaguchi ] : good 

[ Yaguchi ] : *sent a picture* 

It’s a selfie of him from a high angle, sweating in dance attire, holding a towel 

[ Yaguchi ] : we don’t rehearse in the official costumes 

[ Yaguchi ] : so this is my rehearsal costume 

[ Yaguchi ] : pretty creative, right?  

[ Yaguchi ] : the towel is my cape  

[ Yaguchi ] : I’m cool, just like that (￣ω￣) 

Good thing he is not afraid of double texting, he even pentatexts, Yotasuke examines.  

[ Yotasuke ] : Send me a picture of the costume when you get it 

[ Yaguchi ] : Sure thing!! 

“Do you want a ride home, Sekai-kun?” Hashida’s voice distracts him from his text exchange with Yaguchi. 

“A ride home? Are you driving, Hashida-san?” Yotasuke asks. Is a stupid question, Hashida is younger than him. 

“No~, my friend is going to pick me up today.”  

Is this the same friend with the art exposition? Does he want to tag along? Wouldn’t that be weird, being in a stranger’s car? Even dangerous. But Hashida asked him, and Hashida might be a peculiar person but he can be trusted. Maybe a change from the usual train could help him refresh his mind. 

“Sure.” 

He gets in the back seat with Hashida. The driver arranges the his rear-view window. Yotasuke can see his own reflexion in it but not the driver’s face. 

“Is everything good?”  

“Yes,” Hashida answers. 

Despite being small, Yotasuke feels claustrophobic in his seat. He is cramped in the small car, with his – and Hashida’s -  big painting bags. About Hashida, how was he so comfortable? His legs are longer than Yotasuke’s. 

During the entire drive Yotasuke peers outside the window, trying to ignore the conversation between Hashida and his friend. Thankfully neither of them engage him. 

They took a lateral street, one that Hashida’s friend know “it’s not filled with traffic”. Yotasuke thinks they would’ve taken the same amount of time even on the main street from Shinjuku. But he doesn’t complain, it would be rude to Hashida’s friend. 

“You can let me off around here,” Yotasuke says. 

The driver pull off and stops next to the small sakura park, in between his house and school. 

“There you go,” the driver says. 

“Thank you,”  Yotasuke says as he’s trying to exit the vehicle. 

“Have a good day, Sekai, see you tomorrow,” Hashida waves his hand. 

“See you around, Yotasuke,” the driver leaves the parking space, leaving a very confused Yotasuke behind. 

When did I tell him my name?  

Chapter Text

“Have fun, Yakkun,” his mother whishes him, breaking the hug and giving him one last kiss on the cheek before joining his father in the car. 

“Have fun buddy, see you in a week!” His father lowers the driver’s window to wink at him and wish him well. The car pulls back and goes into the driveway, driving back home and leaving Yatora in front of the Dance Academy.  

4 AM. His eyes are droopy and stinging despite wearing glasses instead of lenses. He puts his bag in the luggage space of the bus and joins the girl circle that was formed in front of the gate, next to the bus.  

“Good morning, Yatora,” Maki greets him. 

“Morning, blondie,” Kamiyama says, standing next to the first girl. She and Maki knew each other long before they joined the dancing academy. 

“Good morning, everyone,” Yatora addresses the girls, waiting for the moment they allow them on the bus, where he could sleep. 

“Your hair looks wilder than usual” Maki jokes, hiding her smile behind one hand, chuckling, and ruffling his hair with the other one. 

Yatora’s facial expression changes to something more confused, trying to find an answer for it. “It’s 4 AM, Maki-san, we’re not going up on stage,” he tries to reason. 

“You’re no fun when you are tired, Yaguchi,” Kamiyama complains. Despite having a puffy face herself, she looked decent. Her hair wasn’t tangled, and she even had the time to do some eye makeup. Won’t she sleep on the bus and ruin it?   

“They’re letting us in, let’s go,” Ogihara-san announces the trio. 

Inside, Yatora chooses a seat around the middle of the bus, next to the window. Maki sits next to him, plugging in her headphones and trying to be silent, allowing Yatora to rest. He takes his traveling pillow out of the shoulder bag and gets ready to close his eyes. 

During the ride, he drifts in and out of consciousness. However, seeing the darkness outside lets him know they have not arrived yet and that he can go back to sleep. Inside the bus it was mostly silent too.  

With time, the bustle around him only grew louder, enough for him to stir awake and let him know they had entered the city of Osaka. Yaguchi stands up on his seat, stretching his arms, they have gotten sore from the crossed position he had fallen asleep in. Maki gives him space to get up and stretch his legs too. 

“Can you imagine they are making us dance after sleeping like this?” Maki complains, mainly as a joke. “This place is so cramped up.” 

“Did you get any sleep Maki?” Yatora asks her, since he was unconscious and unaware of his surroundings for most of the ride. 

“Yes, yes, don’t worry,” she assures him. 

Kamiyama, who was sitting in the place in front of them, next to Ogihara, turns and slips her hand between the seats, showing Yatora a picture on her phone. 

“This is what Kuwana was up to while you were sleeping, Yatora,” she sniggers. 

It’s a picture of Maki and Kamiyama, making funny faces next to his sleeping face. She swipes to show another picture of herself, having her middle fingers up and smiling innocently next to his drooling face. Kamiyama continues to show Yatora the pictures the girls took of him sleeping, mocking him. 

Instead of being offended, Yatora picks up the phone and asks “Can you send these to me? They’re funny.” 

The girl is taken aback, eyes widening, but returns to her smug facial expressions quickly. “Sure.”  

The bus is parking but no one is showing any intention of moving, not until Saeki sensei allows them to move. One person after another, they get out of the bus, ready to retrieve the luggage. 

“Listen up everyone,” the teacher gives them the basic instructions. Girls with girls. Boys with boys. They will be staying in the dorm section. The rooms are individual rooms, designated for the international students or students that are not living in Osaka, but during these two weeks, they will have to share them with the Tokyo NNT students – themselves.  

Yatora collects his key and parts ways with his classmates, everyone heading towards their assigned room. He takes the elevator, he doesn’t feel like going up the stairs after being trapped inside that bus seat and having to carry a heavy luggage. 

“Nineteen … nineteen” he repeats while inspecting the numbers on each door. “There it is.” Yatora presses the door handle. Closed. He fishes for the key and unlocks it. 

“Hello…?” He says, alerting his roommate of his presence so he doesn’t get spooked. No one answers. Maybe he is out…  

The place looks neat but it is obvious that someone was living there. One book next to 2 mugs sitting on the nightstand. A few pieces of clothing are drying on the laundry wire.  

Dance classes start in two hours, that means he has enough time to eat and do more stretching. Those bus seats are truly horrible, you’d think they would get something better for dancers.  

Inside the room he sees one bed and one futon on the floor. The teachers said these are rooms for students, so the bed must be this room’s resident.  

“Guess I’ll sleep on the floor for two weeks…”  

Yaguchi props his trolley on the floor and opens it, taking his foam rolling, tennis ball, stretching bands as well as his ballet attire and tossing them on the futon. He turns around and finds a locker. Would that be okay, if he put his clothes there? What if that locker is already in use? He decides he’ll wait for his roommate before he wanders too much. He doesn’t want to break the room’s resident personal space.  

Lastly, he picks up his skincare products and toothbrush and heads towards the bathroom to place them there.  

The door is closed. He didn’t receive a key for it. Yaguchi doesn’t pay it too much attention and goes to change into dance attire before stretching. The dress code at their school requires a white shirt and grey pants for boys and white pantyhose and a grey leotard for girls so they look neat and matching even off stage, during classes.  

While he was preparing to put on his t-shirt, the bathroom door opens.  

Naked. 

Well, not exactly, he was wearing a towel around his waist. His body emanates steam, his skin was still damp. Showering. Why else would the bathroom door be closed if someone wasn’t already using it, Yatora?  

Yatora is quick to react by dragging his t-shirt over his head, hiding his own nakedness. 

“He-llo,” the other one greets him, visibly unaffected by the fact that he was almost naked in front of another boy. His accent is... strong. 

“Hello…” Yatora replies, not sure if he should try to shake hands with someone almost naked. 

“Io sono Sergio Antonio, but you can call me Sergio.” His japanese is a little broken, was that Italian… Spanish…? 

“Uhm...” Yatora tries to not look at his bare chest and come across as a pervert. “Yaguchi Yatora,” he bows, trying to show some Japanese respect. “I will be your room-...” his sentence is interrupted by the other boy, trying to kiss him on the cheek. 

What the...?  Yatora is surprised by the peculiar act, unsure of how to react. 

“Oi, what was that?” He asks in English, visibly disturbed. He figured that using Japanese would make the conversation too slow for the other one and he wants an answer, now. 

“You speak English?” Sergio asks, clearly shocked but pleased that he doesn’t have to continue struggling with Japanese. “This is how we greet people at home. Is it wrong?” Sergio tries to explain to him. 

Damn the cultural boundaries.  

“We don’t greet people like this in Japan…” Yatora says, not sure if it would be too offending if he wiped his cheek. 

At that, Sergio’s eyes widen, scared he did something inappropriate towards Yaguchi.  

“My apologies, please forgive me,” Sergio chaotically bows, trying to copy what he has seen the Japanese do when they apologize. 

“It’s alright,” Yatora assures him, not sure how to change the subject. “I’m your roommate.” 

“Roommate? I live alone,” Sergio says, puzzled.  

“I’m from Tokyo, we’ll be performing together,” Yatora explains.  

“So, you will be staying here, with me?” He asks, doing some mental math.  

“Yes, our schools will be having a joint project, you didn’t know that?” Yatora continues, still trying to maintain eye contact. 

“I have problems trying to understand everything they say,” Sergio gesticulates, trying to explain his lack of Japanese skills. So it is true that Italians speak with their hands, Yatora concludes.  

“So, this is why they brought this to my room?” He asks, pointing to the futon. 

“I guess…” Yatora replies. He remembers his luggage, “Sergio, do you have a place for my stuff?” 

“It’s pronounced SErgio, not SerGIO,” the boy corrects him about his bad pronunciation while lifting his hand – the thumb, index and middle finger held together – swinging it from the wrist. “You can put them inside that” the boy points towards a different locker than the one Yatora saw. 

“Sorry…” Yatora excuses himself while picking up his bag and arranging his clothes inside the attributed space.  

“I need to roll my legs for a bit before class.” 

“We can go grab something to eat afterwards,” Sergio offers. 

“Only if you get dressed…” 

“So, where are you from, Sergio?” Yatora asks on their way home. The dorms were just a few streets away from the dance studios. 

“Da Vinci, Michelangelo, the homeland of Dante and Raphael, Carla Fracci, Roberto Bolle and Carlotta Grisi,” Sergio moves his arms around, enforcing every word he is saying. “Italia.” Well that was a showoff introduction, why couldn’t he just say Italy from the start? 

“Why are you here, in Japan, Sergio-san? Isn’t Italy one of the most important places for ballet?” Yaguchi asks.  

It is said that ballet started as an aristocratic entertainment during the Italian Renaissance, under Catherine de Medici’s reign, and only later it was adopted by the French and the Russians. Even the word ballet comes from italian ballare, which means to dance. 

Why would an italian ballet dancer come here when they have access to all of that history, Japan isn’t even known for ballet…  

“I earned a scholarship for the summer program through a competition,” Sergio replies “I think it was a good opportunity for me to discover a new culture, to visit places… besides, I like anime very much! You have so many exhibitions here, I even collected the Weekly Jump,” Sergio proudly says. 

Yatora only smiles, unsure of how to explain to Sergio that the word otaku isn’t a cool and quirky attribute… 

The two pass a streetlamp. Yatora stops for a moment. Sergio looks at him, wondering why his roommate stopped. 

Yatora fishes his phone out of his jacket and snaps a picture.  

“Sorry, a friend in Tokyo asked me to take pictures of the cats I see, he likes them,” he explains, picking up the pace. 

“Yatoraaaa~,” the boy turns his head at the call of his name. “Wait up, why are you rushing like that?” Kamiyama asks. 

“Good evening, Kamiyama-san, Maki-san,” he greets his friends. “How was class for you?” 

“We only did some introductions and rehearsed for a bit,” Kamiyama answers 

“Did you meet you roommates?” Yatora asks. 

“Yess, I love her. She’s literally the coolest. She has this dark tapestry in her room with skulls and she likes this gore stuff whaa, boom…” Kamiyama enthusiastically explains, throwing her hands around to make it more visual. Her chaotic movements catch Sergio’s attention, he has someone that can talk the same language as him. 

“I’m glad about it, what about you Maki, how is your roommate?” Yatora moves his attention to the other girl. 

Maki has been mostly silent since they arrived. “She’s alright, we’ll get along,” is all she says. 

“Oya? is he your roommate, Yatora?” Kamiyama asks, poking at Sergio. 

“Yes,” Sergio replies in Japanese, showcasing Kamiyama a large smile, she blushes. Does he like her?  

“His name is Sergio. Sergio, this is Kamiyama Fumi, and this is Kuwana Maki, they are from the same school as me,” Yaguchi continues, making the introductions in English. 

“Why are you speaking in English, Yatora?” Kami asks. 

“Because Sergio is from Italy.”  

“ARAAA!? Why are you here!? You should be in Italy studying dance with some teacher that went to the Paris Opera!”  

This is the thing when you are a foreign student. You will always be asked why you chose that place of study, to the point where you’ll end up repeating yourself, explaining to everyone the same thing over and over again. 

“Dinner was very good,” Yatora says while heading towards the elevator.  

“Yeah, the food is very good here in Japan,” Sergio confirms, “but not as good as in Italy.” 

Yatora tries to hold back an eyeroll. 

“Where are you going?” Yatora asks as his roommate takes a different turn than him. 

“We’re not allowed to take the elevator, we will climb the stairs.”  

What?  

“Why?” Yatora asks, dumbstruck about this information. 

“I don’t know, that is the rule,” Sergio replies, not giving away enough information. Because not even him did know it. He came there one day in July and the other students told him that it is not allowed for them to take the elevator. Apparently it has been passed down like this, from student to student, orally, for years, eventually the real reason was forgotten and now no student uses it anymore.  

“Only the teachers can take it.” 

That's weird....  

The two arrive inside their room, ready to relax for a bit before doing the evening stretching routine. Yatora sits on a chair next to the window. Not a very good idea, the darkness outside allows Sergio to see the reflection of whatever he was doing on his phone from his place on the bed. 

He opens the text application and reads the messages his mother left him. He texted her briefly when they arrived, but she’d like more details.  

“Hey mom... Yes, I’m good... I just ate... No, the instructors are pretty good... No, it’s not too cold... No, I won’t get sick... Yes, I’ll make sure of that... Yes, I’ll sleep well... It’s a futon... don’t worry. Yes. Mhm. Okay. Bye mom. Okay. Yes. Ok ok. Bye then, love you.”  

Mothers. 

Then he returns to his phone, he sends Yotasuke the cat picture, then proceeds to his group chat with Sumida, Utashima and Koi. Surprisingly, Yotasuke’s answer comes immediately. 

[ Yotasuke ] : Hello to you too. 

[ Yotasuke ] : Where did you see it? 

He taps a few texts and returns to the group chat with his buddies. 

Yotasuke seems to be in a chatty mood tonight because he doesn’t take as much time to reply as usual. Yatora can’t complain, he likes spending time with Yotasuke at the end of the day and being able to do it even now, at distance, is an enjoyable experience that technology made possible.  

[ Yotasuke ] : You don’t have to excuse yourself, Yaguchi-san 

[ Yotasuke ] : I’m not your mother 

Of course you are not my mother, Yotasuke, I’m just trying to be polite... Yatora contemplates. There is a knock on the door.  

He looks at Sergio, who is sitting on the bed with the computer on his lap and noise cancelling headphones over his head. He doesn’t seem to have heard the knock. 

Yatora puts the phone down on the table without locking it and goes to check who is at the front door. Little did he realize that Sergio’s eyes were following him. 

“Yatoraaaa,” Kami shouts when he opens the door. “Why did it take it this long for you to open the door, lazy ass?” Yaguchi doesn’t answer, he knows Kamiyama will talk over him. 

“Do you have any 10kg stretching bands? I forgot mine,” she asks with a softer voice, knwoing she is the one in need.

Stretching is very important for a ballet dancer, it helps them keep the muscles relaxed and their bodies flexible.  

“Sure, come in,” he assures her.  

“Thank you, Maki and the other girls don’t use the same kind of stretching bands...” she explains why she has chosen to ask him instead of the female dancers.  

Yatora picks it up from the futon, where he had left it earlier, and hands it to her. Sergio is still on the bed, seeing her he partially removes his headphones and greets her. 

“Good evening, Italia,” She answers in English. The nickname makes the two boys snicker. It's Sergio’s fault for using Italian, or bragging about it too much. 

“I’ll bring it back when I’m done so you can use it too,” she returns to Yatora before heading out of the room. 

Yatora himself returns to his seat next to the window.  

[ Yaguchi ] : how about daddy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄) 

Oya?  

… 

Yatora blinks at the screen. He feels his face turning red. On the background Sergio starts chuckling. Yatora turns his head towards him, slight fear fills his eyes. He returns to his phone and starts tapping while nervously laughing. At this point Sergio is howling.  

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Yatora asks, not sure if he should be upset or laugh or be embarrassed. He does it all at once.  

But he doesn’t reply, he can’t form any words, the boy is simply laughing on his bed, holding his tummy and gasping for air.  

“WHY DID YOU SEND THAT?” Yatora continues, slight exasperation can be heard in his voice. 

He continues tapping on the screen, sending text after text. 

[ Yaguchi ] : my roommate  

[ Yaguchi ] : took the phone away from me 

[ Yaguchi ] : why isn’t there an option to unsend messages?!?!?!?!???!!!! 

[ Yaguchi ] : (O_O;) 

[ Yaguchi ] : I’m really sorry Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : I 

[ Yaguchi ] : am 

[ Yaguchi ] : really 

[ Yaguchi ] : REALLY 

[ Yaguchi ] : R 

[ Yaguchi ] : E 

[ Yaguchi ] : A 

[ Yaguchi ] : L 

[ Yaguchi ] : L 

[ Yaguchi ] : Y 

[ Yaguchi ] : sorry 

[ Yaguchi ] : please forgive me Yotasuke-kun 

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Sergio was suffocating. He wanted to pull a little prank on Yaguchi, his reaction is too priceless, and he can’t stop laughing.  

Yatora raises his phone and presses the record button. He can’t film it correctly, he finds his whole body shaking with laughter and adrenaline. 

“It’s your fault, apologize,” he commands his roommate. 

“I do not understand what you are saying,” Yatora gets up and approaches the bed with the intent of showing Yotasuke that there is indeed another person in the room with him and that it is their fault for that message.  

“Yes you do, pleeeease, apologize,” Yatora begs. He tries to control his voice a little, so it comes off more serious than his previous lines.  

Sergio attempts to protect his identity from being exposed by covering his face. If Yatora’s friend doesn’t know his identity that means he can’t be blamed for it. Damn you, Yatora, you are one funny fella when you react like this.   

“Come oonnn, he might never talk to me again!!” Yaguchi tries again to make Sergio admit that he was the author of the text message but the time limit for videos runs out. Instead, he tries to take a picture of his roommate, that should be enough proof, right?  

[ Yaguchi ] : This is my roommate 

[ Yaguchi ] : his name is Sergio Antonio 

[ Yaguchi ] : but he prefers just Sergio 

[ Yaguchi ] : he’s from Italy, he came here just for the summer project 

A knock on the door makes the two turn silent. Sergio was still hiding under his blanket. 

Yaguchi goes to check who it is, he doubts Kamiyama-san has already finished her stretching routine. 

“Good evening Yaguchi-kun.”  

Oh. Saeki sensei.  

“Good evening, sensei.” 

“Please keep the volume down, we did not come here to create a ruckus,” she says, more austere than usual.  

“Y-yes, sensei,” Yatora answers before returning inside. One does not want to upset Saeki. 

He sends Yotasuke a few more apology texts before returning his attention to the other boy inside the room.  

“I’m sorry if I created troubles for you, Yatora,” Sergio removes the blanket from his head.  

“It’s okay,” Yatora assures him. “However, Yotasuke-kun might never talk to me again...” 

A short silence settles between the two before Yatora continues. 

“Let’s roll those muscles.”  

[ Yaguchi ] : Good morning Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : Hope you have a great day 

[ Yaguchi ] : I’m really sorry for yesterday 

[ Yaguchi ] : I hope I can make it up to you when I’m back 

Pas de bourrée, jump, regroup formation, port de bras first position. And again, this time on the other side. Boy, girl, girl, boy.  

The corps de ballet makes their entry, he ends in fourth position .  

The villagers move aside, letting the girls from the corps do their part. Pas de chat. Jump and turn on the other side. Pas de chat and repeat.  

Albrecht and Giselle appear too.  

Okay, it’s the moment for boys to resume their part. Scissone. Scissone. Scissone. Scissone. Port de bras, third position. 

The entire choreography is just a few steps  repeated  in circle.  

The boys move to the back. It's time for Giselle’s pas seul.  

Who is even the girl that plays Giselle? Yaguchi doesn’t recall her talking to anyone. Anyway, she’s good. Those hops on pointe are perfect.  

She seems to have taken the role very seriously. She is playing, not just dancing, Giselle. 

Woooow! those manèges are really fast, I wonder how she does it? Yatora admire her internally, astonished at the performance, rotating from one foot to the other across the stage. 

Reverence. She joins Albrecht while the corps takes the stage.  

Okay, time to prepare. One, two, okay… I can do this.   

Jump. Two spins in the air.  Ballotoné  back, front, side. Spinning jump . Again. Again. Again. À genoux .  

A few more steps with the corps. Yaguchi partners with Maki for the last few spins.  

It’s almost done... The last part of the first act. Herlion – Sergio – exposes Albrecht. Giselle's breakdown, her death... 

“Très bien everyone, très bien,” the teacher is congratulating them, it is obvious that she isn’t French, the pronunciation is very Japanese.  

“Rest for 10 minutes, then we’ll continue with Act II,” she announces.  

“Banana?” Yatora offers Maki at the end of Act II. His part is only related to the first act and is not as demanding as the corps'. He was working on his Espada variations during the second act. 

“No, thank you, I’m good,” she declines, trying to reach for the towel. “We’re returning to the dorm soon, I’ll eat there,” she explains. 

“The whole experience isn’t just as magical as I imagined, it’s just a few steps repeated...” Yaguchi complains, he imagined that dancing such an old and beautiful piece as Giselle would be more… enchanting. 

“She’s really good,” Yatora says while pointing to the girl that’s playing Giselle. 

“Yeah... she is,” Maki absently agrees.  

The two are roommates, and apparently, they do not get along. It’s not like they had a fight, but the vibe between the two girls is … weird. Or maybe it’s just for Maki.  

“Well, I’ll go pack up my stuff,” Yaguchi tells his friend. She seems a bit disconnected.  

They leave the studio in a big group this time. The Tokyo students seem to get along pretty well with the Osaka ones.  

“Oh?” 

 Yaguchi sees another cat, around the same area he saw the one yesterday. But it looks pretty similar. He fishes his phone, takes a picture and goes back to the gallery to check his hypothesis.  

They are the same cat.  

“Hey, do you know this cat?” Yatora asks the group. 

“She’s always here when we leave,” a girl from the Osaka school answers.  

“Is she a stray?” 

“Who knows?” 

“Hey, Sergio, can you take a picture of me with her?” Yatora asks the italian boy.  

He kneels down next to her. The cat does not run away. Snap. Picture taken. Sergio returns his phone. Yatora tries to pet the animal, she doesn’t bite nor scratch. She even has a collar. 

“Yatoraaa, move your ass blondie, I’m starving!” Kamiyama complains. 

“Coming!!” 

[ Yaguchi ] : look who I found again ~(=^–^) 

He sends the picture. Maybe this is enough for Yotasuke to forgive him. 

[ Yaguchi ] : how was your day Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : if you’ll ever reply to me 

[ Yaguchi ] : Please do 

But he doesn’t. And this bugs Yatora. He joins the rest of the group for dinner. 

Ping. 

Yatora checks the phone.  

Oh. Oh. 

Yotasuke decided to answer him.  

[ Yotasuke ] : Is the cat a stray or do its owner allow it to wander like that 

His eyes are not pulling a trick on him, right? it is truly Yotasuke’s name on the screen.  

Yaguchi sends him a few messages with the information he has received and the picture Sergio has taken earlier.  

Aren’t those too many texts in a row? Should he reduce the number of texts? But how can he show Yotasuke that he is really excited to chat with him otherwise?  

[ Yotasuke ] : cute 

Yatora’s heart stops for a moment. D-did Yotasuke just complimen...? 

[ Yotasuke ] : The cat, not you 

...Of course he was talking about the cat... 

[ Yaguchi ] : you’re right, Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yotasuke ]: Gn 

[ Yaguchi ] : Good night, Yotasuke-kun!! 

Yaguchi checks one more time the group chat he had with his 3 friends. 

Maki has added you, Hashida and Yotasuke to a group chat  

Oya? 

Yaguchi takes a random picture and writes “What is this?” over it 

[ Maki ] : this is not snapchat, Yatora 

[ Hashida ] Good evening (=`ω´=) 

[ Yatora ] : hello hello 

[ Maki ] : We can communicate better like this 

[ Maki ] : I already miss you guys 

[ Yatora ] : I’m literally on the floor below you 

[ Maki ] : Shut up 

[ Hashida ] : Don’t you two have rehearsals tomorrow? 

[ Hashida ] : Shouldn’t you sleep? 

Hashida has a point. Yatora sends one more message before heading to sleep. 

Normally, in Tokyo, Thursday would be their day off, but at Osaka, the day off is Saturday. 

The rehearsals are intense. He can’t imagine the pressure Maki must be under as a member of the corps. In the corps you cannot improvise if you mess up, or you’ll be destroying the entire order. It’s not like you can break the routine when performing a character variation alone, you still have to move according to the music, but there’s less pressure to it. 

Not to mention she has both the village and the wili scene and the Mercedes variations to rehearse. That is a lot of dance.  

“Sergio, do you like being Hérlion?” Yatora asks his roommate 

Sergio deadpans instantly. “No.”  

“Hérlion is a little bitch that cannot accept that his feelings are not reciprocated and needs to chill out and move on,” he continues.  

Yatora smirks at the use of vulgar words, huffing out in an amused way.  

“Besides, he barely gets any dancing done, absolute atrocity. How could one be so boring?” he melodramatically poses.  

“I see... I don’t think I’d be happy as Herlion either. He's like Don Quixote’s character...” 

“Only that Don Quixote is based.” 

“Based?” 

“It’s a slang, he isn’t a pussy like Hérlion, the man doesn’t even need a real woman, he created one inside his mind and is living his best life.”  

“True, true... be he doesn’t get a lot of dancing either,” Yatora explains the parallel he imagined between the two characters, trying to ignore the vulgar vocabulary Sergio uses. 

On the walk home he sees the same cat, in the same spot. Maybe he’ll come tomorrow to feed her since it’s his day off.  

Inside his jeans, his phone is vibrating. 

[ Hashida ] : Hello, Yatora 

[ Hashida ] : Today is Sekai’s birthday 

[ Hashida ] : I figured he might have not told you since he doesn’t make a fuss about his birthday 

[ Yatora ] : Whaaaaa 

[ Yatora ] : Thank you so so much Hashida-san 

[ Yatora ] : I owe you  

Yotasuke’s birthday? He must get him a gift too, but what?  

Rehearsals would be unbearable if not for the good food that the Osaka Ballet Academy was serving for dinner. 

The meal was the traditional Japanese family style, where the dishes were spread out on the table, and everyone could serve themselves depending on their liking. 

“Signorita, your dancing is perfecto, ” Sergio compliments Kamiyama, doing a chef kiss, making her squirm and blush. The two seem to be getting along suspiciously well. 

“A future prima,” he continues to spoil her with compliments, taking her hand and kissing it while maintaining eye contact. The Italian accent only adds to his flair. 

On the other side of the table there is Maki, energetically talking with the other girls, including her own roommate. Yaguchi is glad that she seems to be feeling better, for the first week she didn’t seem to be in a great mood. She must be excited for her role as Mercedes.  

Yaguchi fails to notice something, just like everyone else... Talking is just a way to distract the attention. 

His phone gets a notification and he is unconsciously smiling when he sees Yotasuke’s name on the screen, eyes lighting up, looking forward to read his texts. Maybe it’ll be a new painting, Yatora likes his paintings, maybe it’ll be another cat meme or just a random text, anything as long as it is from him. 

If they were not rehearsing, they were in class or at the gym, building up stamina and strength. The kids were working as hard as their bodies allowed them for this performance. 

[ Mom ] : We have arrived, Yakkun 

[ Mom ] : Good luck! Talk to you after  

Yatora is kind of glad that their big performance is just next week, he doesn’t think he could perform as Espada tonight. Even Maki seems to be stressed, she is unconsciously playing with the dress, holding it up around her waist while watching the main character perform her act.  

The view is too funny, he snaps a secret picture for the group chat. 

His time is approaching. Yatora peeks at the crowd through the backstage window. His eyes inspect the horde. Looking for them. His parents. 

Ah. There they are. They are here. Everything is going to be alright. He tries to calm himself, the emotions are catching up. He has trained for this long enough, he knows the steps. But being there, right in front of it, is scarier than he could imagine. 

Yatora takes one big breath and prepares himself mentally.  

This is going to be okay. Everything will be okay. 

“Yatoraaaa, let’s take a picture!” 

Guitar and accordion instrumentals are filling the dining hall. The tables and chairs have been moved closer to the walls, allowing the participants to move around. Everyone is dancing in a circle, holding hands with Sergio in the middle.  

“Una mattina mi sono alzato,  

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao, 

Una mattina mi sono alzato,

E ho trovato l’invasor.” 

“O partigiano,” Sergio sings out loud, “porta mi via.” 

“O bella ciao,” Everyone joins for this part, mainly because it is the only part they can spell, not because Sergio is the only one that can sing, “bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao.” He jerks his hand up in the air, raising it higher with every repetition and tapping it in the air on the 'ciao' parts, making the song more interactive and livelier. 

Then he continues alone again, using higher notes, almost screaming “O partigiano.” He lowers the voice tone, “porta mi via.” followed by lower notes, adding depth to the last verse of the strophe. “Che mi sento di morir,” he grabs his PJ t-shirt close to his heart and bends forward, his face grimacing, trying to act out the song lyrics in his passionate way. 

“E si io muoio,” Kamiyama quits the spinning crowd and joins Sergio inside the circle, “ da partigiano ”. 

“O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao,” she shouts cheerfully along with everyone else for the chorus. Sergio takes the girl’s hand and lifts it over her head, leading her into a spin. 

“E sì io muoio da partigiano, tu mi devi seppellir,”  the instrumental becomes slower, a small break before Sergio continues “E seppellire lassù in montagna,” he spells the lyrics on the tune rhythm.  

“O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao,” instead of lifting his arm in the air, he slowly swings his body left and right, having his left hand on his chest and waving his right arm with a grace only a ballet dancer could have. The group around him follow his movements. 

“E seppellire lassù in montagna,”  he lifts his right hand to his chest, resting it over the left one, “sotto l’ombra di un bel fior,” the music picks up the pace once again nearing the end of the last verse.  

“Eeeeeeey va!” He cheers and throws the two hands into the air as the song returns to its quick and joyous pace, taking Kamiyama’s arm, locking their elbows and spinning around. 

They just finished with the Giselle performance and were already trying to mimic the Mediterranean atmosphere. 

They didn’t go out for drinks that night, instead they rested inside. The instructors allowed them to sing and stay past the curfew hour, with the condition that no one will miss class tomorrow, and that the classes will be just as demanding, without any excuses.  

The song is a protest folk song from Italy, dating back to the 19th century. However, Sergio was requested to sing it just because it was popularized by the Casa del Papel show, nothing close to the song’s historical meaning. 

He finishes the song and everyone claps and laughs. The songs continue, people take turns on the karaoke, keeping up the atmosphere.  

Despite being past midnight and have just finished dancing a two-hour ballet, no one seems to want to return to their room and rest. 

Needless to say, the next morning no one was as lively as they were during the festivity. 

Celebration. Everyone is happy. Or should be happy. Yatora sits in the middle, drinking from the cup. He throws it up in the air. 

Shit, I shouldn’t have thrown it like that. I hope the can fetch it before it falls.  

It’s his variation. Shortly, Basilio and Kitri appear on the stage. The two have been fugitive in a gypsy camp while hiding from Kitri’s father, Lorenzo that does not agree with his daughter relationship. Well, not when the affluent Gamache would be more than happy to marry her. 

And of course Lorenzo would show up at the tavern, followed by the unwanted suitor. Yatora takes Kitri’s – Kamiyama’s – hand and try to take her away from her father, but the last one only insists. Each one pushes and pulls, why can’t her father understand she is in love with Basilio, not Gamache?  Yatora lifts her up and break them apart. 

Basilio appears, trying to understand the situation. His heart is crumpled that his lover’s father does not agree with them. So saddened that he decides he will end it all… the fake suicide scene. 

It is followed by Don Quixote – Sergio (of course  he was give the Don Quixote role) – and Gamache’s battle. Don Quixote is fighting for the sake of his protégée, Kitri, supporting her relationship with Basilio, he is the good character, so it is obvious that he is set up to win, humiliating the foppish Gamache. 

In the end, Lorenzo accepts Basilio as his son in law. Everyone congratulated the happy couple, and Gamache ends up asking another girl’s hand in marriage.  

It’s their pas de deux. Yatora still feel the aftermath from the dance of the matadors in Act I. Unlike him, Maki seems to be as lively as ever while dancing. The Spanish flavors, that this ballet brings, requires them to be as sensual as possible through dance. She is very dedicated into embodying the sultry street dance. Thank goodness this part doesn’t have any lifts, Yatora doesn’t think he has the energy left for any of that. 

Then it’s the big ending. Kitri and Basilio’s wedding. Their pas de deux is long, and very basic. Up until now, the atmosphere was filled with Spanish flamencos and claps, but this part it doesn’t differ from the classical Sugarplum Fairy and the Cavalier pas de deux from The Nutcracker.  

Act III variations : Mercedes, male – Basilio – and female – Kitri. Kamiyama looks like she was made for this role, she can personify Kitri like a pro dancer already. Fierce and bold and vibrant. The simple swing of her fan, the way she is stepping on her pointe, her witty smile, the sass. A real-life Kitri. 

Ballet is not just about the way a dancer is performing their steps. It’s about playing. Showcasing the character, their personality, their story, all of that without saying a word, just body movements.  

One last coda aaand… it’s done. 

Maki goes to the bar to support herself while trying to catch up with her breath. Her part was demanding.  

“Water?” Yatora hands her the bottle. 

She chugs it, she was definitely thirsty. “Thank you, Yatora.”  

Don Quixote is another ballet choreographed by Marius Petipa. The father of classical ballet. The man created endless choreographies for ballets that are known by everyone: Paquita, Le corsaire, La Sylphide, La Bayadère, La Fille Mal Gardée, Swan Lake ,The Nutcracker… if you have ever heard of a classical ballet, the chances are there is a version choreographed by Petipa.  

Petipa originally choreographed Don Quixote to the music of Luwig Minkus and it was first presented by the Ballet of the Imperial Bolshoi Theater in Moscow, Russia, 1869. Two year later he has created another revision, with five acts this time. Multiple other dancers have created their own version of this ballet, including Rudolf Nureyev, considered the best of his generation. However, the director chose a fresh version, one created by Carlos Acosta for The Royal Ballet in London, England. 

Inspired by Cervante’s novel, filled with Spanish influences, the compelling virtuosity, the passionate love story, the gallant knight… the whole ballet dance is a delight.  

I can’t believe I get to dance this…

“Isn’t it funny how you get main roles for both but you barely have any steps, Sergio?” Yatora asks while wiping his sweat with a towel.  

“Funny? No,” he answers the question simply. “But Acosta’s Don Quixote is one of my favorite productions from this year. I’ve watched it live in London when I was a teenager, it was with Akane Takada. Maybe that’s when I truly fell in love with ballet,” he turns his head towards Yatora and continues “I’m a weeb, there aren’t a lot of anime about ballet, but apparently seeing a Japanese ballerina motivated me enough,” he showcases Yatora one of his huge smiles and chuckles at the realisation of how stupid his words came out. You'd be fooled by his smile. He might look calm, maybe innocent from the distance, but the readers have been already exposed to his real, mischievous nature.

However, Yatora is left speechless. Sergio’s sincerity was unexpected, even in his personal way – with silly little remarks here and there – of being genuine. It makes him rethink his dance motivation. 

What was his motivation even? He can’t think of anything. Ever since he was a child he liked to dance around the house, imagining he was a ballet dancer even before he knew what a ballet dancer was. That or figure skating. The two are similar, one is on the stage, the other one is on ice. And Russians, somehow, prove themselves to be the best in both.  

But, returning to his original thought, he didn’t have an external motivation to dance. He just did it. And, thankfully, it was enough for his parents. His mother was not very happy to hear that Yatora can’t attend highschool if he wants to be a professional ballerino (just like Sergio would say), but eventually she accepted and now he is here, dancing Acosta’s Don Quixote with Maki Kuwana, Kamiyama Fumi, Sergio Antonio Russo… 

“You’re coming?” Sergio breaks his disconnection state. He is pointing towards the lockrooms, they should head back to the dorm before it’s getting too late and they have to run to be on time for dinner.  

“Yeah…” 

Snap. Sent. 

Saturday proves herself to be quite lazy and slothful for the dancers. None of them were eager to hit the gym or do anything productive. The past two weeks have been pretty tiring for everyone. 

Monday evening everything will be ending. It is the evening for the Don Quixote performance, and Tuesday they will return to Tokyo and everything will be back to normal.  

He won’t have intensive classes anymore, and he will be able to catch up with his three buddies, he didn’t hang out with them since… his birthday? He will also have more time for himself. Yotasuke too, if he agrees. 

“Hey, Yatora. Do you want to go out?” Sergio offers.  

Yatora is snuggled under his blanket on the futon. He is accepting the extra heat the fabric produces. Is the blanket producing the heat? No, it helps his body converse it. Anyway, all in all, he doesn’t want to go out, where it is cold. It even looks like it might rain soon.  

He doesn’t answer verbally Sergio’s question, he is only looking at him with a tired expression. 

“I get it, then what about a movie?”  

“I don’t want to leave this blanket,” he says, groping the blanket tighter and closer to his body. 

“Come here,” Sergio taps the place next to him on the bed. “Let’s have a sleep over.” 

“Didn’t we do that every evening?” 

“Aaah,” Sergio exasperatedly sights “stop complaining, Yatora. Fumi is right, you’re no fun when you are tired,” Sergio complains about his roommate.  

Unlike Yatora, Sergio is a never-ending pit of energy, he wakes up the first in the morning and goes to sleep the last. What even is he doing at those hours? Right… maybe he’s keeping in touch with friends and family, there is an eight hours difference between Japan and Italy. 

He lifts himself up, with the blanket still wrapped around his body like a cocoon and throws himself on Sergio’s single person bed. 

“Let’s watch this,” Sergio proposes, shifting the laptop so Yatora can see from the point where he was laying down. 

“Billy Elliot? What’s it about?” He squints at the screen, reading the romanji. 

Sergio turns his head towards Yatora. Silently mouthing an O, with eyes wide open in an offended way. He is dismayed that Yatora does not know this movie.  

“Y-you don’t know this?” Sergio asks, still amazed by Yatora’s ignorance. 

“No, what is it?” Yatora asks with pure curiosity. He wants to know what is this important that even Sergio reacted like this. 

“You have to watch this now. It’s the best movie ever, I swear,” Sergio says before making himself cozy and hitting the play button. 

Yatora is left with an unanswered question but he decides to pay attention to whatever movie Sergio chose for him to get an answer. 

Billy Elliot is a story about a British boy from the Durham. The set period is around the miner strike, where political problems affect their daily lives. Billie discovers he enjoys dancing while attending the dancing classes instead of the boxing classes that his father – a miner fighting the system himself – was sending him to.  

Because of his father’s negative view of male ballet dancers – the basic stereotypes – Billie has a harder time to actually dance. As a result he even misses the one audition the Royal Ballet School was holding. However, his teacher does not lose hope and continues to support the boy. 

Over the Christmas, Billie and Michael (Billie’s friend) are caught up dancing in the gym by Billie’s father. On the spur of the moment, Billie decides to truly dance in front of his father, to prove him that he is passionate about this. The father is brought to tears and accepts his son’s wish to dance. In the end, the boy is taken to London to audition for the Royal Ballet School. 

Just like Yatora, Billie didn’t have any solid reasons to dance. He only did it because it made him feel good, free, like a bird in the sky… The last scene is Billie, an adult now, ready for his principal role, proving his success in the dance world. 

“I will never get sick of this movie,” Sergio claims. “It’s a classical, it’s seriously scary that you do know it.” 

Yatora is still contemplating the scenes inside his head, however he speaks up. “The accents were so thick, how do those people pronounce the words like that?”  

Sergio starts laughing. “Europe has a huge variety of accents a third of them are in Great Britain.” He ruffles Yatora’s hair, the bed was warmer than the futon and he let the blanket fell off his head. 

“Tell me, who is your favorite character?” Sergio asks, looking down at the boy that was still dissociating. 

“Hmm… If I say Billie you’re going to call me cringe?” 

“I’m not going to call you that if you know it. There’s no problem with linking the main character, but everybody loves Billie,” he explains. 

“Then I’m saying Miss Wilkinson,” Yatora struggles to pronounce the name. “I like how dedicated she is to teaching Billie and how she is believing in him. Everyone deserves someone like her.” 

Sergio doesn’t say anything. Yatora lifts his eyes to check if he was listening. He sees Sergio faking a tear around the corner of his eye. 

“Show-off,” Yatora throws the pillow at him. 

“Zitti,” Sergio replies through his teeth. Yatora got to learn it means “shut up.” Sergio uses Italian a lot, he even taught Yatora a few words.  

“Va-”  

“Va-”  

“-fan-”  

“-fan-”  

“-cu-”  

“-cu-”  

“No no no no, more like coo, not cue.”  

“cu.”  

“Yes, just like that, now -lo.”  

“-lo.”  

“Vaffanculo.”  

“Vaffanculo?”   

“Exactly.”  

“What does it mean?”  

“It means ‘you look nice today'.”  

“Oooh, okay. Hey, Fuu-chan, vaffanculo.”  

Kamiyama looks at him in a weird way. Sergio starts wheezing. Yatora is confused.  

“What about you, Sergio-san, who is your favorite character?” Yatora asks. He seems a big fan about this movie and Yatora would like to understand his vision. 

“Michael.” 

“The gay kid?” 

“Mhm. I was around his age when I came out to my parents.”  

… 

Came out?  

Yatora swings his head so fast towards Sergio that he is afraid he might break it. 

“Came out?” he repeats, not sure if he heard it correctly, or if he understood it correctly. Maybe Sergio meant something different by that, there are a lot of cultural barriers between them.

“Yeah…?” Sergio replies, not sure why Yatora is acting like that.  

“I’m gay, Yatora.” 

Yaguchi turns his head straight. Not sure how to process this piece of information. 

“But you don’t dress like a girl.”  

“Huh?!” Sergio is the one to be shocked this time. 

“Gay people crossdress, right?” 

“Che cazzo?? What the fuck, Yatora? Who gave you this idea?” 

“I have a friend that crossdresses and he likes men, that makes him gay, right? Michael also wears skirts and women makeup…” Yatora tries to understand.  

This is what happens when you let stereotypes about gender and sexuality spread instead of teaching people about it. 

“Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you, Yatora?” Sergio is conflicted, unsure if Yatora is homophobic or just utterly stupid and ignorant.  

“Show me this friend,” Sergio demands, trying to calm himself down before he screams at Yatora and scares him. If he has a friend that crossdresses maybe he isn’t homophobic… 

Yatora takes his phone and shows Sergio Ryuji Ayukawa’s social media profile.  

Sergio doesn’t need more than a few seconds to spot them. 

“Your friend is fucking trans, you idiot,” Sergio cusses him out for his ignorance. “Do you see that???” He points at the screen “It’s her pronouns, 'she/her'. Female.”  

Ryuji is a girl?  

“I can’t believe it, cretina… Ascoltalo, qualsiasi gay è travestito…” Sergio continues to cuss him out in Italian. He got so worked up because he expected Yatora to be gay too, otherwise why would he be giggling like a little girl whenever he was talking with that Tokyo boy?  

Stupid Yaguchi.  

Yatora doesn’t know what he should do. Is it still allowed of him to sit on Sergio’s bed after infuriating him like this. He is not sure how to understand the information he was given. 

Not all gay people dress like women?   

“Is it because someone has to be the man?” Yatora asks, just as stunned as before. 

Sergio did not believe Yatora could get any dumber. But he was proven wrong. Instead of replying to his question, he picks one pillow and proceeds to asphyxiate him. Silenced forever. 

“Hey, Sergio,” Yatora asks later, from his place on the futon. The rain is pouring on the window. 

He was given a long lecture about the different sexual orientations, on how they don’t have to conform to the conservative style where one is the ‘man’ and the other one is the ‘woman’, and the ideology Sergio had about gender as a cis man.  

Cis… hah, who would’ve thought that there could be such a thing as cis to describe yourself. He explained Yatora how gender is much more than just the sex you are biologically given and how oppressing someone for their preferences is not just bad but trashy and lame. 

“What is it, chicken brain?” Sergio replies, not shifting his eyes towards the other one. He didn’t want to waste his energy on another stupid question.  

“How do you know it?… That you’re gay, I mean…” Yatora asks, genuinely curious.  

“Don’t know, just… know.” 

Yatora stay silent, the answer isn’t elaborate enough for him to understand it. Sergio notices his silence and the way he was looking in the space with a lost expression. 

“Just… think about it. Do you think about men and get disgusted? Hugging, kissing, fucking?”  

Yatora doesn’t move nor look at him but his eyes widen at the last word and his cheeks turn pink. 

“Have you ever had a relationship before, Yatora?” Sergio asks, trying to help the boy understand himself better. 

Yaguchi shakes his head. How could he date anyone when he was dancing six days a week and sometimes hitting the gym on the seventh? 

“Have you ever have a crush on anyone then…?” Sergio continues his questions. 

It takes a moment for Yaguchi to react but eventually he lifts his eyes and nods. 

“Do you want to share it…?” Sergio doesn’t want to pressure the other one. He might be stupid, but he didn’t mean any harm, Yatora is still a human being with feelings and private life. 

“She was a senpai at my school. She graduated and went to the art course in highschool. I still have her on social media, apparently she studies art at University too,” he explains, memories of his younger self being enamored with his upper year filling his brain. It was a child crush, nothing more, she was kind and he liked that. Yatora found himself fancy a girl or another through the years but he didn’t initiate anything, letting the flames burn out. 

“What about the boy you’re chatting with every evening?” Sergio breaks the ice. He is just as straightforward as Yotasuke, it’s scary. 

Yatora swings his head at a concerning speed towards Sergio for a second time that day. 

“I can see everything you do from the table…” Sergio points at the window, hoping Yatora would make the connection. 

“Don’t be funny, there’s nothing between me and Yotasuke-kun…” he says, trying to hide his embarrassment about the broken personal space or the implications of what Sergio just said. 

“Whatever makes you feel better, Yatora…” Sergio says before returning to his computer, taping furiously on the keyboard. 

Despite the presence of another person in the same room, Yatora is left alone with his thoughts. Him and Yotasuke… 

Yotasuke and his passive aggressive energy. The way he doesn’t bother sugar coating anything, his words do hurt sometimes.  

Yotasuke that gets soft when someone mentions cats. The boys that loves his pet more than anything else. 

Yotasuke, the art prodigy that couldn’t fit into his family’s stage world outlook. Maybe it’s better that way, he can focus on painting… 

Yotasuke that doesn’t talk with Yatora, but still saves up the seat next to him on the train. That always finds an excuse to skip social gatherings but still agrees to meet every evening and morning. 

Do I like men?  

…  

Do I like Yotasuke?  

[ Father ] : the traffic at the entry of Osaka is very bad 

[ Father ] : we won’t make it tonight 

[ Father ] : Sorry, buddy 

Haah… 

Yaguchi read the text, exasperated.  

He feels his adrenaline rising. His knees get softer, he needs to sit down otherwise he might fall down and risk destroying the costume. That would be problematic… 

He looks at himself in the mirror. He is almost done with his makeup.  

“Boys, you’re going up on stage in 30.” 

Can he do it?  

His fingers unconsciously tap on the phone screen… 

Chapter Text

Yotasuke enters his house door. It seems to be empty, no one moves. Not even Fumi. 

“Fumi?” Nothing moves. Yotasuke wonders what happened, the cat never misses the chance to make a ruckus every time she is alone. 

Yotasuke shifts his head towards the calendar on the wall. Oh. It’s the 29th of September. It’s her medical check up day. His mother must’ve taken her to the vet. 

Yotasuke leaves his backpack on the ground instead of arranging it in his bedroom. As long as his mother doesn’t know about it, he won’t get lectured about it. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right? Besides, that bag is heavy. 

His phone buzzes inside his back jeans pocket. Yotasuke picks it up. 

[ Yotasuke ] : You have the skills of a worm when it comes to pictures, Yaguchi-san 

Yaguchi has sent him the picture with his costume that he promised. His Espada was dressed up in a white matador costume with golden details and a – real – red cape. The costume is beautiful enough on its own, let alone when Yatora was wearing it.  

Only if Yatora wouldn’t be so unskilled when it comes to photography. The picture is a mirror selfie: he is standing sideways, the phone is around his neck and he is trying to hold it in a weird position, it even looks uncomfortable.  

[ Yotasuke ] : When do you start? 

Yatora doesn’t answer. Yotasuke imagines he is too busy backstage to do it and he understands it. It is not an easy thing to perform in front of the crowd. Besides, there are all those necessary preparations.  

He leaves his phone on the desk and goes to the kitchen to fetch an apple before returning to his room and starting to study. He won’t go to Tobi tonight, he has to prepare for a few tests that are coming at the end of the week.  

He takes a batch of notebooks out of his backpack and arranges them in the order he will study the subjects, making a mental list of priorities, depending on the study volume and the date of the exam. 

However, his phone’s ringing disturbs this mental calculus. 

Yaguchi Yatora is calling…  

Yotasuke swipes the red button before he even realizes what he has done. He was so focused on preparing his study session that he did it out of habit. He picks up the phone quickly and calls Yatora back, it would be rude of him to reject the call like that, especially when he isn’t forced to. The call doesn’t ring for long before Yatora accepts it. 

“Hello…?” Yotasuke starts, he can’t hear anything on the other side. He takes the phone away from his ear and checks if the call is still ongoing. It is. 

“Yaguchi-san, are you there?” 

… 

“G-good evening, Yotasuke-kun.” 

“Good evening, Yaguchi-san. Why were you calling me?” 

“…” Yaguchi needs a few more moments to gather up the energy to speak up. 

“I’m going up on stage soon…” he starts. 

“Yeah, I imagined when you didn’t reply. Why are you calling me then?” Yotasuke pushes, he isn’t annoyed by the call, just curious what would Yaguchi have so urgent to tell him that he has to call him right before the performance. 

“I-I’m g-going to b-be on st-stage… s-soon…” Yaguchi repeats himself, this time he is stuttering. His voice is shaky too. 

“Yaguchi-san, is everything alright?” Yotasuke asks, he can hear the shake in Yaguchi’s voice, unsure how to process it. 

“Yotasuke-kun, my parents won’t b-be here tonight…” Yatora tries to control his voice. It is still shaky but he is trying. 

Yotasuke doesn’t know if he should say anything, he doesn’t want to interrupt Yaguchi and make it harder for him to tell Yotasuke whatever he struggled with. However, Yaguchi’s prolonged silence pushed him into speaking. 

“Yaguchi-san… You can tell me everything…” Yotasuke tries to be comforting. His voice is sincere and doesn’t sound anything close to annoyance. It seem to be enough for Yatora. 

“My parents can’t come tonight, they said it’s the traffic… usually they’re my anchor. Whenever I’m going up on stage I need my anchor to be there in order for me to perform well… but they’re not here now and I really need something to connect myself to the stage… to anchor myself…” Yaguchi takes a break. Yotasuke can hear his breath and him swallowing. “Yotasuke-kun… will you be my anchor? Will you allow me to think of you while performing?” 

Yotasuke did not expect that. Flabbergasted. His mind does not work, he isn’t sure if he even processed everything that Yaguchi said. However, his mouth is moving on its own. Spelling the words he didn’t take the time to think over. 

“Yes, please do your best out there, Yaguchi. For you. For me. For us…” 

Yatora must’ve been as taken aback by Yotasuke’s answer just as much as Yotasuke is. Because none of them says anything. Yotasuke doubts he can even hear Yaguchi’s breath anymore, did he stop breathing or did Yotasuke’s ears surrender?  

“…Thank you, Yotasuke-kun,” Yatora finally speaks up. “I will do my best.”  

Yotasuke doesn’t know how he could continue, he presses on the screen, dismissing the call. 

Stupid Yaguchi.  

Yotasuke needs to study, he can’t waste his time on replaying the interaction inside his brain. 

That’s right. Productivity. 

He returns to his notebooks, acting just like a hollow robot. Mind empty, nothing but the urge to study.  

Studying will help him take his mind off anything that shall not be recalled. Damn, he was never more grateful for a molecular biology class. 

Later that evening, his mother returns with Fumi. She does not like the vet. Are there any pets that like the vet?  

Anyway, this time it is his turn to comfort her. After dinner he makes sure to play with her, to enforce their bond. And afterwards he took the cat to his room and cuddle her nicely, allowing Fumi to sleep next to him 

The two went to sleep early that evening. Yotasuke needs to be in good shape to resume his thorough studying tomorrow. Maybe he will make time to pass by Tobi too. 

At around 3AM his phone keeps buzzing, a lot. He should’ve turned it off, who is even contacting him at that hour. He squints at the screen, his vision is still blurry from the sleep. He looks around, Fumi isn’t sleeping, she is looking outside the glass door, at the distant city lights. 

Yotasuke rubs his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision and understand what is happening. 

Buzz. 

Buzz. 

Buzz. 

Buzz. 

For fuck’s sake.  

It is exasperating to feel the vibration and hear that specific sound when it receives a notification. He doesn’t even need to see the name to understand it is most likely from Yaguchi. 

Stupid Yaguchi.  

People sleep at this hour, why is he spamming Yotasuke like this at that hour?   

Yotasuke decides that he might as well check the messages if he is already awake. 

Moving, blurry pictures. 

Fuck you, Yaguchi, this is the reason I had to wake up?  

There are also a few videos, Yotasuke scrolls up, trying to form the story behind the random photos. Thankfully, the spamming stops too. 

Blurry picture. Moving picture. People dressed up, disco lights, dim light. Yotasuke is familiar with this scenery.  

Another stupid, useless picture that doesn’t explain anything. 

Video. Yotasuke lowers the volume before playing it. He does not want his parents to be awakened the same way he was. 

“Buoooon giornooo, YotaSÙkeee.” 

It’s almost fucking 4 AM, what buon giorno? And my name isn’t pronounced like that. 

“Mi farebbe piacere conoscerti. Voglio sapere perché Yatora piace tu così tanto…” 

The video features Sergio, most likely drunk, speaking Italian in front of the camera. 

“Mwaaaahhh,” he ducks his lips at the camera, sending Yotasuke a wet kiss from the distance. 

In response, Yotasuke rolls his eyes in annoyance. He doesn’t speak Italian, and even if he did, Sergio’s accent is so strong that he couldn’t understand whatever he was saying. At this point he is just another clown, staying awake to watch this masquerade. 

More blurry pictures. Yotasuke can decipher a few people in a circle.  

The more he scrolls down, the better he understands that those people are gathering around Yaguchi.  

Another video. Yaguchi dancing sloppily. If it can be considered a form of dance. His moves are so clumsy that it wouldn’t shock Yotasuke if he were drunk too. He is lacking his jacket and the shirt is half unbuttoned.  

The next pictures are a series of photos where Yatora approaches the camera to the point where Yotasuke can only see his shirt’s buttons. 

This is the second time Yotasuke was caught up in Sergio’s shenanigans. Good thing Yaguchi is returning tomorrow, and Sergio won’t have access to his phone anymore. 

Yaguchi is returning tomorrow…  

Yotasuke puts the phone down and tries to fall back into sleeping for the next 45 minutes. His mind is too busy thinking about tomorrow's possibilities. 

6:45AM. Clothes. Breakfast. Train. School. 

That’s his morning schedule. He repeats it every morning. It’s simple. He wakes up, gets dressed, eats his meal and leaves to take the morning train to school. The weather outside is only getting colder, so walking isn’t a favorable option.  

But why does Yotasuke find himself in front of the closet, mind empty, not knowing what to pick up to dress? It’s easy, buddy. 

You just pick whatever and match that. Just like you do every morning. They don’t have to look good. You don’t have anyone to impress. 

What is that?  

You want it to look good?  

Don’t tell me… you do have someone to impress?   

Who is it?   

Ok ok, sorry, I’m not insisting…  

Yotasuke picks up a brown shirt with a black checkers design and a pair of skinny black, ripped jeans.  

He doesn’t tuck in the shirt. Tucked in looks weird.  

Then he picks up a thick silver chain that he hangs under the shirt collar. 

Should he do something about his hair? Dammit, he doesn’t have the time for that if he doesn’t want to be late to school. 

He goes to eat his breakfast, brush his teeth and leave, picking up the pace so he doesn’t have to wait for the next train. According to his algorithm, this is the perfect train to pick for school. The one before arrives too early. The one after is too filled. But this one has the right balance between time and people volume. 

This particular school day has classes that last long. Why are they so long?  

His eyes keep looking at the wall clock. 13:12 was 20 minutes ago, why is it 13:16? 

He didn’t see Hashida around this week. And no one in his classroom talks with him over anything else besides studying and notes sharing. They didn’t even notice Yotasuke’s earrings, despite getting a haircut that doesn’t cover his ears that well.  

Needless to say, the school day was anything but exciting.  

Back at home, Fumi appears from the living room, welcoming the boy just as she always does. Yotasuke notices her empty bowl and fills it before eating the meal his mother left him. He should study a little too. 

He returns to his room alone, forbidding the cat from infiltrating. He needs to study and having her playing around would only make him lose focus. He chooses two subjects that he needs to focus on and study.  

That should be enough. 

It is more than enough.  

Yotasuke’s internal clock seems to be off today. He does not perceive the time as well as a normal person is supposed to. First, he complains about how the time in class moves too slowly then he gets lost into studying. 

He hears the front door clicking. 

Fuck. 

He looks around, trying to find the clock to find out what time it was. 

Way past 6PM.   

By the time he would arrive at Tobi it would be nearing half past seven PM and that means he would have an hour before the studio is closing.  

Yotasuke ponders the options. Staying home or going out for Tobi for just an hour. But the latter doesn’t seem convincing enough, and he still has studying to do.  

He decides he will stay in. With this conclusion he switches his day clothes to something more comfortable: baggy PJs. And, somehow, he even manages to finish studying before dinner. He has made the right choice staying in, this way he is ahead and can paint tomorrow. 

Ping.  

Yotasuke lifts the phone, checking the notification. 

Oh.  

Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck off. 

He was so worked up on studying that he forgot today was the day Yaguchi returns. You even chose the outfit especially for meeting him that morning, dork.  

[ Yaguchi ] : Hey, Yotasuke-kuuun 

[ Yaguchi ] :  I’m excusing myself once again for Sergio’s texts 

[ Yaguchi ] : I hope he didn’t wake you up ▓▒░(°◡°)░▒▓ 

[ Yotasuke ] : he did 

[ Yaguchi ] : !?! 

[ Yaguchi ] : ( : 0 ‸ 0 : ) 

[ Yaguchi ] : PLEASE FORGIVE ME YOTASUKE-KUN 

[ Yotasuke ] : Please don’t spam me again, Yaguchi 

[ Yotasuke ] : How was the performance? 

[ Yaguchi ] : Good!  

[ Yaguchi ] : Great, actually! 

[ Yaguchi ] : it was very fun 

[ Yaguchi ] : I’ve seen my parents after it ended, they couldn’t get in after they closed the venue T_T 

[ Yaguchi ] : and after that 

[ Yotasuke ] : you’re spamming again, Yaguchi 

[ Yaguchi ] : oops, sorry 

[ Yaguchi ] : we went out and we celebrated but I think that Sergio has already let you know about that from those pictures he sent 

[ Yaguchi ] : Anyway, I’m back in Tokyo now 

[ Yaguchi ] : I didn’t have classes today and starting tomorrow we’re returning to our normal schedule 

[ Yaguchi ] : So I came to pick you up from Tobi, since we won’t be seeing each other on the train that often anymore 

[ Yaguchi ] : we’re going out for drinks! 

[ Yaguchi ] : So, can you hurry up a bit, it’s getting cold haha 

… 

Yotasuke rereads the last four messages Yaguchi left. 

Yaguchi returned to Tokyo. Obviously. 

Yaguchi won’t be taking the same train with him anymore. His schedule changed. 

Yaguchi is waiting for him. Outside of Tobi. 

And Yotasuke is at home. Wearing baggy pants and mismatched shirt.  

The entire situation isn’t even funny. He is the one that chose not to go to Tobi that day to focus on studying. Only to learn that he missed the one chance he had to see Yaguchi after two weeks apart. Who knows when they will even cross roads again? 

It both pains and frustrates him that he has to write this answer: 

[ Yotasuke ] : Sorry. You can go ahead because I didn’t go to Tobi today. 

Later, after dinner, Yotasuke is back inside his room. 

His energy is passive aggressive. He didn’t talk with parents. He even wanted to skip dinner, he couldn’t eat when anger was filling his brain. He had no appetite, but his mother works hard for the meals to be nutritious and healthy and homecooked. 

He sits on his futon, eyes straight ahead towards the desk area, looking blank. His hand is absently patting Fumi.  

Fuck it.

1st October 

[ Yaguchi ] : Hey hey, Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : do you wanna hang out this weekend? (￣ω￣)/ 

[ Yotasuke ] : I have to go to a performance with my family 

6th October 

[ Yaguchi ] : Heyo, Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : you up for something this Thursday? 

[ Yotasuke ] : it’s a school day Yaguchi-san… 

 9th October  

[ Yotasuke ] : good evening, Yaguchi-san. Are you free this weekend? 

[ Yaguchi ] : I have classes, soooryyyyyy 

13th October 

[ Yaguchi ] : Hey, can we catch up this weekend? 

[ Yotasuke ] : I have a few more exams 

It’s been almost two weeks since Yaguchi returned and they haven’t ound any occasion to see each other in person. Every time one would propose anything, the other one would have some responsibilities to fulfill. 

Yotasuke would like to turn the time back around and return to the summer vacation where he had long and annoying painting classes but saw Yaguchi almost every morning and evening. When they were going to the coffee shop. When they were eating lunch together with Hashida and Maki. Yotasuke craves the power he thought he had over that routine. 

But that routine isn’t a routine anymore. Right now, he needs to move on with his life and accept his Yaguchiless daily life. 6:45AM, clothes, breakfast, train, school, home again, Tobi, dinner, sleep. All of these, just like before. Why does it feel so foreign? 

He drags his feet across the floor, heading to his room. He was done with the midterms. He doesn’t have an overwhelming amount of schoolwork to do anymore and that leaves Yotasuke with a lot of time. Time that he does not know how to use.  

Until the end of the year he knows he has to attend two more ballet performances: Swan Lake and The Nutcracker. The basic ballets that everyone is head over heels whenever the winter is nearing.  

And, of course, the annual family reunion. He cannot skip it, no matter how much he’d like to. His mother would drag him there even against his will. And hearing his aunts complain about his childish behavior isn’t exactly his cup of tea… so, instead of making a scene, he conforms and attends it.  

Every year he has to explain himself, how his school is going, that he plans on studying art, that he won’t become a doctor despite being an excellent student – even his distant relatives know he placed high on the national exam… And every year he has to sit there, listening to whatever someone has to brag about.  

Yotasuke picks up one of his favorite books from the shelf.  

The Idiot by Dostoevsky. 

He’d rather reread the story again than paint. His art went into mayhem again recently to both Yotasuke’s and Matsuo’s displeasure. It is never fun to create art when you can’t get it under control. 

The Idiot  is the story of a mentally ill man treated in Switzerland – named Lev Myshkin – that receives a huge inheritance, bringing him back to his homeland, Russia. 

If we could reduce Prince Lev Myshkin to a few words, it would be innocent, an entirely positive and beautiful nature. But because of that he is… naive… 

On the train back home he meets a very important character, Roghozin. Later on you’ll understand why Roghozin is important for the story. 

In Russia, he meets more or less important and influential people, including the family of Ivolgin. Ivolgin has three daughters. For the sake of a short synopsis, we’ll only mention Aglaya. A young and bright girl. The most beautiful daughter of a high-society family. Through the novel, the girl tries to understand her feeling for Myshkin and whether or not she should marry him. 

And, to skip all the complicated parts, Prince Myshkin also meets this infamous woman: Nastasya Filippovna. The definition of femme fatale. A gorgeous woman, intelligent and innocent. An innocence that the society can’t see in her, she’s often called a fallen woman through the novel. 

In the book, the Prince is caught up between his romantic love for Aglaya and his pity love for Nastasya. Another man that is entangled in Nastasya’s charms is Roghozin from the very beginning.  

In the end he chooses the latter woman. Setting up a wedding with her, that she – of course – doesn’t show up to. Instead, she runs away with Roghozin.  

However, in the last part of the book, it is revealed that the woman has been killed by him. The Prince is sent back to the Swiss sanatorium and Roghozin is sentenced for 15 years in Siberia for prison… 

Dostoevsky loves killing women and sending men to prison. Yotasuke recalls at least three different novels by him that have this central idea. Did Dostoevsky kill someone and was sent to prison for it?  

It sounds more like the kind of book Hashida would love: the dark themes, the mental illnesses, the complicated decisions, the sinister, unexpected ending. But Myshkin’s personality is what arouses Yotasuke’s interest in the book. He cannot understand how his mind works, even though the book primarily follows him.  

The cat comes next to his futon and sits on his lap. However, Yotasuke doesn’t allow her to relax like that for too long. He gets up and installs himself in front of the desk. He picks up a piece of paper and a random pen. It’s black.  

The pen runs smoothly on the paper as Yotasuke tries to put down his thoughts. His mind has been too busy to process anything for the past month. But right now he has the time for it. To analyze what he’s feeling. Why he is feeling that. To understand himself better. Just like Matsuo advised him. Maybe his art will improve too. 

Okay, he got this.  

He writes his name down, just like he did for the previous map. In the center. He encircles it.  

First of all, he writes down Tobi. Does he like Tobi? Not really, hate it? Nope. It’s just another place he goes out of obligation, but he has gotten used to the late afternoons spent there after school. What does connects him to Tobi? Geidai entrance, that’s all.  

Hashida.  

Does he hate Hashida? Not at all. Hashida is annoying and a pain in the ass, but he is sincere and wants the best for everyone. And his bizarre interest in art adds to his flair. He is also very skilled in painting. Hashida is… cool.  

What’s his connection with Hashida? School? Art? Tobi? It must be a combination of them all and a little bit of friendship too. Yep, Hashida-san is Yotasuke’s friend. Or the closest thing he could call 'friend'.  

Should Yotasuke analyze his classmate? What could he says about them? He didn’t really create any bonds with any of them in the past three years and now it is too late to even consider it. Why didn’t he create any bonds with them though?  

Does he hate them? Yotasuke can’t think of anyone in particular that he hates. Yet he didn’t create any relationship with anyone – besides Hashida that has somehow insisted on following him around last year.  

Oh right. His people repelling personality.  

Yaguchi.  

... 

His mind is blank. He cannot think of anything.  

Fuck you, Yaguchi. What do I think of you?  

… 

Nothing?  

I can’t be nothing. Come on brain, work.  

Yaguchi is good at dancing, like, really good at dancing. Is this even the reason why I got interested in him? Maki is also a good dancer. Aiko-san is a great dancer. Damn it, I have like three other family members that are dance gods. But they don’t have the same impact on me as Yaguchi does.  

I find myself craving his presence. Wanting to spend time with him. To hear his voice. To see his eyes. I want it. But why?  

You said you wanted to spend time together more after you return, why aren’t you keeping your promise, Yaguchi?   

Yotasuke picks up the phone, tapping on Yaguchi’s name. 

[ Yotasuke ] : Hey, you up to do something this Thursday? 

Yaguchi’s answer comes almost instantly, as if he was expecting Yotasuke’s text. 

[ Yaguchi ] : we have auditions that day… 

Yotasuke throws the phone on the futon, followed by his own body. He buries his head into the pillow, screaming with frustration. Fumi sees it and decides to sit on his head. 

… 

I hate him.   

Is what Yotasuke puts down on this relationships map. 

It is late, but Yotasuke tries his luck by calling Yaguchi. May he will answer. 

And he does. 

“Fuck you,” Yotasuke huffs in a passive aggressive way before closing the phone call, not giving the other boy any chance to say anything.  

After a few minutes of fuming, being worked up due to the rising anger, his phone alarm starts ringing. He would like to continue loathing but the damn alarm was too annoying. Yotasuke looks up and fetches the phone to see what’s the problem. 

Yatora Yaguchi is calling …  

He looks at the phone. His mind is just as empty as before when he sees Yaguchi’s name. Without a second thought he presses on the red button, doing it voluntarily this time.  

He goes back to his futon, dragging the blanket over his head and launching Pokémon on his Switch console. 

14th October  

Yatora Yaguchi is calling …  

Declined. 

15th October  

Yatora Yaguchi is calling …  

Declined. 

19th October  

[ Yaguchi ] : hey Yotasuke-kun 

[ Yaguchi ] : is everything okay? 

[ Yaguchi ] : can we talk?  

21st October 

[ Yaguchi ] : why are you ignoring me Yotasuke-kun? 

23rd October  

Yatora Yaguchi is calling…  

This is the last time Yaguchi called Yotasuke.  

He has either ignored or declined all of his previous calls. He has left all his text messages without an answer too. 

Yotasuke couldn’t stand the emptiness of his mind whenever something related to Yaguchi popped up in his mind. He couldn’t figure out what he was feeling towards Yaguchi so he settled with hate.  

But Yotasuke’s attitude towards Yaguchi was wrong, and shortly after he understood it himself too, a sense of remorse filled his body. Now he couldn’t talk with Yaguchi, not because of his confusion induced anger but because he felt too guilty. 

He came to the conclusion that he does not deserve to talk with Yaguchi anymore, for the sake of the two. His personality is nasty, and Yaguchi doesn’t deserve to be put through it. 

However, Yotasuke might not want to admit it, but his brain knows the truth all too well, buried deep down into his unconsciousness. 

He doesn’t hate Yaguchi. 

[ Hashida ] : hello Sekai :3 

[ Hashida ] : do you have plans for Halloween?  

Chapter Text

If something, Yotasuke is glad for his dark wardrobe. He can just pick up something random and match it to get a halloween costume out of it. Black hoodie, black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots. He goes to the bathroom and picks up the black eyeliner. It is Halloween, no one is going to judge him for it tonight. 

It is almost 11PM when he leaves his home, the party was supposed to start at 10 but who is even going there at 10? 

He and Hashida decided they will meet at the house party. Why did Yotasuke agree to this? He doesn’t even know, but he agreed to it and now he has to go and socialize. This is the curse of upgrading Hashida to a friend. 

Or not, he can leave early if the mood is not right. 

The party is at one of Hashida’s friends in Shibuya. At least it is not far from his own home and he doesn’t need to stay in the train for too long.  

People with actual costumes and makeup are everywhere, the train, the street, why do people even put this much effort into it for just a few hours? 

He checks the gps application on his phone and looks around for the correct address, maybe he’ll spot Hashida too. He finds it, but no sign of Hashida. 

Yotasuke assumes he is late – just like the usual – but Yotasuke doesn’t know whether or not he should join the party without Hashida. Who is even there? He doesn’t know anyone, what is he supposed to do? Socialize? Small talk? With a stranger? 

Yotasuke keeps waiting for Hashida for another 10 minutes. His anger starts to rise up and his motivation to attend whatever party starts to dissipate when he hears his name. 

“Oi! Yotasuke!” It isn’t Hashida’s voice. Or any voice he can easily recognize. 

What the…?  

He looks around, trying to find its source. Nothing in front of him. Nothing to the left. Nothing to the right. 

“Up here!” 

Yotasuke lifts his eyes, looking over him at someone bending over the railing. The person is waving their hand around, trying to catch Yotasuke’s attention. 

“Whatcha doing there? Come up here!”  

Yotasuke tries to reconsider the options. Does he know this person?  

…He recognizes the voice, somehow. 

“Yotasuuuukeeeeee~” the other one is shouting once again, insisting that Yotasuke joins them. 

Of course  he was waiting there for 15 minutes for nothing. Hashida is already inside. 

He goes inside the building and finds Hashida holding the door open for him. 

“Good evening, Sekai, I’m glad you could make it,” Hashida welcomes him. The same sly smile. But there’s a hint of mystery into it. What are you up to, Hashida?  

His costume is the classy ol’ vampire thing. Black and red cape, the white gothic blouse, the black trousers and the shiny shoes. He seems to be very much into it, he even got an excessive amount of powder and red lipstick, no teeth however. Teeth are uncomfortable and unnecessary.  

“It is too loud, even if you rang no one would hear and let you inside,” he explains his chivalrous act to have the door open for Yotasuke.  

People are already inside?   

“Good evening…” Yotasuke greets him back, not sure what to say or if he should start a small chat. “Thank you,” he says while passing on the other side of the locking door. 

They take the elevator to the eight floor. And just like Hashida said, it is loud, the noise is unbearable from the hallway. How comes the neighbors don’t get mad with this chaos?  

Inside the apartment he is welcomed with even more chaos. He looks around, as if trying to decipher someone he knew. 

His peace is disturbed when someone bumps into him from behind. The said bumper even puts his hand around his shoulder, as if they were already long-life buddies. 

“Yo, Yotasuke,” he screams, trying to make himself heard over the mixture of voices and loud music. 

Yotasuke tries not to get overwhelmed by anger, however it’s not like someone would notice if he was to scream, not with all that loud noise around them.  

“Do you mind?” Yotasuke takes his hand off, removing himself from the man’s embrace.  

Yotasuke looks at him, he lacks a top, something resembling a face mask sits over his eyes, hiding his identity. His own outfit is black too, he has a cape too, purely black, unlike Hashida’s.  

“Who are you?” Yotasuke asks, frowning at the broken personal space. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” the man answers. However, Yotasuke’s deadpan gives him the cue that it isn’t obvious. “I’m Zorro, man… I put so much effort into it…” he continues, disappointed by Yotasuke’s reaction. 

“I’m sure Zorro wears a shirt,” Yotasuke cuts him, he didn’t ask who was his costume. 

“Yeah, that’s just because he doesn’t have this” He turns his back and lifts his cape, showcasing an incomplete tattoo. “It’ll look really cool when it’s done,” he says, knowing the tattoo still needs work. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Hashida offers, pointing at the drinking stand, trying to save Yotasuke from Zorro. Or Zorro from Yotasuke.  

Yotasuke removes himself from the conversation and heads towards there, hoping there won’t be any surprises in any of the drinks. Someone bumps into him. 

“Sorry, my bad,” he says. Yotasuke lifts his head, but the stranger is too tall for him to see his face without making it obvious he was trying to look at him. 

 He lets it go, at least the guy was polite enough to excuse himself. He returns to the bar and fills his cup with a cocktail of red wine and fruits. 

“Good evening, Yotasuke.”  

Yotasuke turns his head. Why are there so many people that know his name? When did he become the popular kid? 

Oh. It’s Maki. 

“Good evening, Kuwana-san,” Yotasuke replies. Maki opens her arms, silently asking Yotasuke if he wants a hug. And for the first time ever, he accepts. 

He didn’t realize it, but he missed Maki. They aren’t the closest of friends, but her company is nice and she knows how to tame Hashida. 

“Long time no see, huh?” She asks, the two haven’t see each other since Geisai. 

Her costume is a pirate one. She has a hair band around her forehead, a classic white blouse that can’t be missed under any circumstances from a pirate look, that is, of course, tucked under a corset. She wears a red skirt down to the mid-thighs and knee high flat boots. She is beautiful and the style fits her perfectly. 

“Yeah… how have you been?” Yotasuke asks, a little bit louder so the girl can hear him through all of the noise. “How were Giselle and Don Quixote?” Yotasuke continues. The questions come in easily, he isn’t forcing himself or trying to be fake just for the sake of not being an ass. 

“Oh boy…” she heaves, recalling the hard work they had to put in. “Where do I even start?” She closes the distance between them so she doesn’t have to scream. 

“Normally with the beginning,” Yotasuke says. He doesn’t realize it, be he can be funny sometimes.  

This rips a laugh from Maki. “Of course, of course. It was fun, we learnt a lot,” she continues.  

“I wish I could’ve seen you.”  

“Maybe in the future, I doubt this is the last time we will perform it,” Maki replies, smiling at the idea of doing Don Quixote again. Maybe she can score Kitri the next time. However, Giselle left her with a bitter taste.  

“How about you, Yotasuke-kun? How is the Geidai preparation?” she asks, switching the subject toward him. 

Yotasuke did not plan on reacting like that, but he did. He lifts his hands to his head, groping it and his face grimacing into a look of desperation. Maki laughs at his movements. 

“I remember my Nee-san when she was taking the exam. It’s really tough,” she puts her hand on his shoulder, “you are a real warrior, Yotasuke-kun,” she says while looking at him right in the eyes. 

Yotasuke didn’t know how to react. The eye contact was weird for him. He breaks it and says “Thank you… do you want something to drink?”  

Maki fills her cup with a little bit of soda, but instead of drinking, she dips he fingertips into the liquid. They come out sticky. She throws the juice into the sink and says “I’ll get some water.” 

“What are you two talking about?” Hashida appears from… nowhere? Where was he even? Is his lipstick fading? 

“Making apocalypse predictions,” Yotasuke replies, turning his back to Hashida and crossing his arms in an attempt to block him out of the conversation. 

“If there’s a zombie invasion, you’re the first to die, Hashida,” Maki copies his body language, contributing to Yotasuke’s idea.  

He notices what she’s doing and eyes her side ways, smirking. 

“I guess you did not take into account my ability to transform into a bat and run away,” Hashida replies in a playful way, covering half of his face with the cape, trying to impersonate a real vampire. 

“You know the actual Dracula had nothing to do with bats, right?” Maki counters him, not allowing him to win the argument that easily. 

“The story of Dracula is based of a real historical figure named Vlad Dracul that ruled in Walachia, a little country in the Middle Age in Europe…”  

Neither did Maki nor Yotasuke want to hear Hashida talk when he was in his encyclopedia mode. 

“Come,” Maki urges Yotasuke to follow her, taking his hand. He leaves his drink behind, on the counter while she leads him to another room.  

The walls are tapped with soundproof foam. Piano notes can be heard.  

There is, indeed, a piano inside the room. A grand piano. Black and sleek and huge. It is so big that is doesn’t look fitting for the small room, occupying half of the space.  

A big library fills one wall, the floor in front of it is covered with a big, fluffy carpet. There is also a coach and a TV on the other side. And, straight in front of them, a glass wall is showcasing the Shibuya night lights. 

Four persons. Someone playing the piano, obviously. One is sitting on the coach, another one is sitting on the floor. And the last one if sitting next to the piano. Blindfolded and wearing earplugs. 

“What are they doing?” Yotasuke asks, not understanding why would someone be blindfolded. Is this some sort of ritual? 

“Shh,” Maki lifts her index finger to her mouth, telling Yotasuke to keep down. 

The piano player continues the song. Maki and Yotasuke remove their shoes and go and sit on the carpet, next to the other person and join the rest into listening to the performance. 

This soundproof foam must be expensive as hell because it blocks all that noise from outside. 

The sweet sound creates a romantic Parisian atmosphere around the room. The piece that the girl is playing is… familiar. The kind of song you know you’ve heard before. However, Yotasuke can’t recall the name. The song continues with the same rhythm for another minute, before the girl lifts her fingers off the keyboard. 

The blindfolded person speak up. 

“Try something harder, Fumi-chan.”  

Fumi?    

“Well?” the piano player asks, expecting something more.  

The blindfolded person removes the earplugs and the blindfold, turning their head towards the so called Fumi. 

“Chopin, Nocturne, opus nine, number two.” 

“Bingo!” Fumi replies, holding her hands finger-gun style. 

Yotasuke gets closer to Maki’s ear, whispering. “What are they doing?” 

“They’re testing Yuka. But she can’t see nor hear, she has to guess based on the piano vibrations.”  

“That’s sick!” Yotasuke speaks up, he did not expect anything like that. What kind of skill level does this Yuka have to be so accurate? 

Because of his volume, he caught up the attention of the other people in the room. He turns around, trying to make out the silhouettes he ignored until now for the sake of the piano.  

There’s a girl sitting next to him and Maki on the floor. The piano player is also a girl. Yuka is a girl too… he feels someone’s eyes on him. He turns his head towards the coach. 

Oh. 

Fuck. 

Yaguchi was staring back at him from the other side of the room. The two maintain the eye contact, without any reaction, until Maki speaks up. 

“This is Yotasuke, everyone,” she introduces him to the crowd.  

“He is a friend from Tobi. Yotasuke, this is Ogihara-san,” she moves her hand towards the girl next to them, Ogihara holds her hand up and smiles at him, “Fumi Kamiyama,” the girl that was playing the piano, “and Yuka Ayukawa,” pointing at the girl that was trying to do the guesses. “I guess you already know Yaguchi,” she chuckles, knowing very well that the two boys already met before. But she doesn’t know their current situation. 

Yotasuke doesn’t look at Yaguchi, ignoring him on purpose. 

Fuck you, Hashida, so that was your intention to bring me here tonight.  

Speak of the devil, the door opens and Hashida joins the group.  

“Did I miss anything?” he asks. Because he was wearing shoes he goes to sit on the sofa instead of the carpet.  

“Where did you let him?” Maki asks, chuckling at something only she knows. 

“He’s asleep in the next room,” Hashida replies, putting his arm around Yaguchi’s shoulders, cuddling next to him. The latter didn’t stop looking at Yotasuke. 

“Tch, baby,” Kamiyama comments.  

“Leave him alone, he has a job to go to tomorrow,” Hashida takes this person’s part, being a little protective over them. His grip on Yatora’s shoulder is visibly stronger as he speaks, he might not realise it.

Yotasuke is left outside of this circle, however, he assumes they are talking about the Zorro dude. 

“So, what are we doing?” Hashida asks, no one replied his initial question. 

“Yuka-chan, play something for us!!” Kamiyama asks enthusiastically.  

“Ooh, if you ask,” Yuka swings her hair and takes the place next to her friend, on the piano chair. She lifts her hands, stretching the fingers before lowering them and pressing the keys. 

The song is beautiful. It has a dark side to it, is it another song dedicated to the moon? But the song takes a different turn, awakening a deep, forgotten memory inside Yotasuke. The lyrics of the song start to fill his mind. He knows this song.  

He shifts his eyes from Yuka to Yaguchi. The other one is quick to follow, he has been silent the entire time since Yotasuke entered the room. Hashida turns his eyes towards Yotasuke too, but he shifts his attention back to Yuka and her music when he understands Yotasuke wasn’t looking at him. 

Yaguchi looks like he has a lot to say. Yotasuke deadpans and then frowns. And Yuka’s song has reached the end. 

“Was that Rammstein?” Yotasuke asks, trying to check his hypothesis. 

Rammstein is a rock band from Germany, he was introduces to it thanks to his aunt that plays Opera, one of the only persons in his family that Yotasuke is cool with.  

“Mhm” Yuka hums. She turns in her seat to face Yotasuke. “You like them?” Everyone turns their eyes on him. Why can’t you all just mind your business?    

“I used to listen more to them when I was in middle school,” he explains, “the song was Sonne, right?” 

“Maki, didn’t you say the guy’s from Tobi?” she jokes. “You have good ears Yotasuke-kun, unexpectedly from a craftsman.”  

Geh. 

“Yuka is going to study piano at Geidai,” Kamiyama turns her body on the seat so she can join the conversation too. Her maid costumes looks very adorable on her. 

In the background, Yaguchi and Hashida were talking something on their own too. There is a very small gap between the two, their heads almost touch. 

“You’ll be studying at Geidai too, isn’t it right?” Ogihara asks, she is wearing an Egyptian style costume, the makeup makes her eyes stand out.  

“Ogihara’s girlfriend is also doing cram classes at Tobi,” Maki explains.  

Yotasuke lifts his eyebrows then nods. “Mhm, Fine arts,” he replies. I wonder if I know her girlfriend… “ You’re aiming for the music department?” Yotasuke turns towards Yuka. 

She stands up, walking around the piano and leaning on it. 

“Yep, Instrumental music, Piano,” she replies while tapping her fingers on the black wood.  

She wears a red latex shot dress. She has long, blonde hair, adorned with devil horns on top of the head. Mid-thigh high red boots, there is a trigon resting on the side of the piano, next to her.  

Yotasuke remembers it. He saw her at Geisai, talking with Yaguchi. 

Ah fuck, his mind wanders back to Yaguchi. Yotasuke sees him nodding to something Hashida was whispering to him. Yotasuke looks at his costume. What even is his costume?  

He has a pair of fluffy years on top of his head, a pair of flippers that look like animal paws, a chocker… is that a tail? Yaguchi, are you a furry?  

…  

Earlier that evening  

“W-what are you you wearing, Yatora?” Yuka asks, being taken aback by Yaguchi’s clothing.  

“I’m a wolf” he replies, not understanding Yuka’s reaction towards his costume.  

“You’re an embarrassment, that’s what you are…”  

…  

“Good luck on the exam,” Yotasuke returns his attention to Yuka. 

“You too,” she smirks and winks at him as she is picking up her devil trigon and turns towards the crowd. “Does anyone want snacks?” she asks. 

Kamiyama and Ogihara are quick to cheer on it, however Maki declines. 

“I think I’m good,” she excuses herself. 

Hashida stands up and takes her hand, taking her outside of the room. Yuka, Kamiyama and Ogihara are quick to follow, leaving Yotasuke and Yaguchi alone in the piano room. 

Hearing the door click, Yaguchi turns his head towards Yotasuke, unsure if he should speak, but if he doesn’t he might lose Yotasuke, forever. 

“Yotasuke-kun…” he starts, he doesn’t speak loudly. Is he afraid he might break the isolation foam?  

Yotasuke doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even turn his head towards Yaguchi. 

“Please, can we talk?” Yaguchi continues, his voice is softer, as if trying not to break the other one. 

“About what?” Yotasuke forces himself to talk. He is angry at himself for giving in. He did not want to see Yaguchi again. Seeing him did exactly what he was afraid of: unnecessary feelings. 

“I’ve missed you.”  

Yotasuke swings his head towards Yaguchi. His face expression is conflicted. 

Why do you have to make it difficult, Yaguchi-san?  

“We haven’t spoke in a really long time…” Yaguchi continues. He wasn’t sure himself what or where he wanted to go with this conversation, but all that matters is that he was given another chance to talk with Yotasuke in real life.  

“I’m sorry, training has been… hectic,” he excuses himself for the lack of time he had for Yotasuke. 

“You have nothing to excuse yourself over, Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke says, looking at the piano instead of the other boy. “You cannot control everything in life.” 

“How have you been?” Yaguchi asks.  

Yotasuke takes a moment to answer. “Busy.” 

Really good answer right there, isn’t it, Yotasuke?   

“I was in the middle of mid-terms exams when you returned, and… I was so busy studying that I… forgot…” he continues, realizing the first answer can’t lead to a fruitful conversation. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re busy with school. Studying hard is admirable, and on top of that you have to prepare the Art school exam,” Yaguchi comforts him. 

There is a small silence between them. Yaguchi sees the door knob going down, the group is going to return to this room. He gets up and goes to the glass wall, opening a door to the balcony. 

“Come,” he asks Yotasuke to join him. 

The two boys sit on the straw chairs that face one another. Outside, the noise was almost just as loud as it was in the hallway and the kitchen. And on top of that, the voices of the people in the streets are filling in the already inexistent gaps. 

It is the last day of October, and Tokyo isn’t renowned for being a warm place in winter. Why did Yotasuke accept this? He stuffs his hands into his hoodie so they don’t get cold. 

“This is Yuka’s home,” Yaguchi explains. Yotasuke figured it out, more or less, either Yuka’s or Kamiyama’s.  

What Yaguchi doesn’t reveal is that he asked Hashida to invite Yotasuke to the party. There were 25 to 75 chances percent that he will say yes. But Yotasuke agreed, and he is now sitting in front of him. Once again. 

“So, what’s the plan now?” Yotasuke asks, looking at Yaguchi. 

“Huh?” Yaguchi asks, confused about what Yotasuke meant. 

“Performances wise, what performances do you still have left?” He clears the confusion. 

“Ah…” Yaguchi replies, turning his head towards the city lights. “The girls have been selected for the Swan Lake, they will do the Pas de Quatre in an official performance…” 

“Dance of the little Swans?” Yotasuke asks, making sure he didn’t misunderstand which pas de quatre Yaguchi was talking about. 

He clicks his tongue, in an latent way, not out of annoyance. “Yep,” he elongates the e and ends it abruptly with the p. 

“And what about you?” You said you had auditions. But he doesn’t voice the last part, he doesn’t want to be intrusive. 

“New year ballet,” he says, still looking at the Shibuya landscape.“Still life at the Penguin café.”  

“I’ve never heard of it before, what’s it about?” Yotasuke asks. 

“It’s a piece created in 1988, it is about how humans negatively affect the endangered species. Ecology.”  

“Interesting, which species?” Yotasuke asks. Somehow, he finds himself carrying the conversation. 

“Well… penguins, zebras, rain forest people… I got the Texan Kangaroo Rat,” Yaguchi continues to look at the city in front of him. 

Yotasuke takes out the phone from his pocket and looks up the animal’s name. 

“Cute…” he whispers, loud enough for Yaguchi to hear him. 

He turns his head towards Yotasuke, unsure if he heard correctly. Yotasuke turns his phone and shows Yaguchi a picture of the little kangaroo rat. 

There’s a hit on the glass wall behind them, making both Yotasuke and Yaguchi to turn around. Yuka is sticking her face to the to the glass. She breathes out and creates an opaque zone where she draws a penis and before starting to laugh.  

Yaguchi gets up and opens the door inside, going straight to her, ready to fight. 

“Oi, Ryu-…Yuka!” He approaches her in an aggressive way, shoving his middle fingers in front of her face.  

After his return to Tokyo, he spoke with Yuka face to face, asking her if she is indeed trans and if she wants to be addressed as a woman. Yaguchi didn’t mean any harm whenever he addressed Yuka as Ryuji before, he simply didn’t know and neither did Yuka correct him. But now he does, and he is trying his best to make Yuka feel comfortable. 

She looks at it with a neutral facial expression for a second before smiling deviously, sticking her tongue out, ready to lick the fingers. Yaguchi retires his hands quickly, disgusted by the idea of Yuka’s tongue on them. 

How do you always attract this kind of people, Yaguchi-san? Yotasuke wonders inside his head. Yuka reminds him of Sergio. 

“Let’s play a game,” Hashida proposes. “Never have I ever.” 

Everyone else returned to this room. It looks like the VIP section of a party, where the commoners don’t have access. How did Yotasuke arrive there? 

“Sounds good!” Yuka agrees. 

Everyone removes their shoes so they can form a circle on the carpet. Yotasuke takes a seat between Yaguchi and Maki. Next to Maki is Hashida, then Ogihara, Yuka, Kamiyama and Yaguchi again. 

“Okay, I start,” Yuka takes the lead. “Never have I ever broke the law.” She raises her hand. However, no one else follows her. “Pussies” she adds before allowing Kamiyama to continue. 

“Hmmmmm… Never have I ever… drunk-dialed my ex,” she raises her hand. Yuka too. As well as Hashida. 

Yotasuke eyes his classmate weirdly, as if asking “When did you do that?” Hashida shrugs, brushing it off as “I have a past.” 

Yaguchi’s turn. “Never have I ever worn someone else’s underwear,” Yaguchi raises his hand. No one else does, everyone is looking at him in a weird way, as if he is a freak.  

“What?” he blushes. He didn’t consider it as a weird thing. Sometimes it just happens… and dancers share a lot of stuff. Heck , average people share weirder things. 

Yotasuke comes to save his pride by taking the turn and changing the subject. “Never have I ever been to a strip club,” Maki starts laughing, hitting Hashida’s shoulder. An inside joke only the two of them understand. He doesn’t raise his hand, but Yuka does. How much stuff did this girl do?  

“Never have I ever ghosted someone,” Maki raises her hand, Yuka too, Ogihara and Kamiyama follow. “I see…” Maki chuckles when she realizes the girls have their hand up and the boys don’t. 

“Never have I ever lied about my age,” Hashida asks. At first no one raised their arm, but shyly Ogihara does. Huh, who would’ve thought? She seems innocent.  

And now it’s her turn. “Never have I ever… kissed someone of the same gender.” Okay, didn’t see that one coming, she said she has a girlfriend, however. 

A crowd of hands spike up in the air. Yaguchi looks around. Ogihara. Kamiyama. Yuka. Hashida. Maki? He turns his head towards Yotasuke. 

Oh. 

He has his hand up too. That means he is the only one that didn’t go through a homoerotic experience. 

Yotasuke turns his deadpan expression towards Yaguchi after he felt the latter’s eyes on him.  

Yaguchi didn’t expect it to be this common for people to kiss someone of the same gender. He blushes, feeling marginalized.  

He’d like to know more about Yotasuke’s kiss… but he doubts the current circumstance is appropriate for him to ask about it.  

The group continues to play the game for a few more rounds. And with every question, Yotasuke is convinced that Yuka is actually Sergio in disguise, sent to haunt him. He can’t imagine that fact that he will see this person at Geidai too… how far are the Fine Arts and Music campuses from each other?  

Eventually he falls asleep there, being grateful for the fact that it is a weekend day and he doesn’t have to hurry for school, unlike the four dance students, that can’t afford to stay after waking up, not even for breakfast. Yuka sent them away with a on-the-go-snack.  

Yotasuke even stays to help Yuka with the cleaning. Apparently, the guests didn’t made such a huge mess out of her family’s apartment as he expected, the music was loud but the people were…tame.  

“Ayukawa-san…” 

“Yuka is fine enough, Yotasuke,” she corrects him. 

“Yuka… for how long have you been playing the piano?”  

“Hm… 14 years?” She tries to do the math inside her head.  

“I started when I was 4,” she says, in case Yotasuke wanted to do the math in her stead. 

“Wow, that’s very young…” 

Yuka doesn’t reply. Instead she goes to her phone and plugs it into the music system. 

“Hey, Yotasuke.”  

Du Hast starts playing. They don’t share any words but somehow understand one another and start headbanging.  

Hashida peeks at them at the from the door frame, holding a broom and smirking. He never thought he’d see Yotasuke bond with someone over German metal.  

He returns at home. He removed the makeup at Yuka’s but was still in need of a shower. Not gonna lie, he was feeling pretty content with the last night’s experience. Especially Yuka, she’s a cool person. 

“Good morning, Yotasuke,” his mother welcomes him.  

“Good morning,” he replies, removing his shoes. 

“How was the party? You slept over, was it fun?” the mother asks while the cat runs towards the boy, bumping her head into his shin due to the uncontrolled speed. 

“Yep,” he replies shortly, without much details, it’s not like his mother even cares. “It was fun.” 

He picks up the cat and turns towards his room to get some clothes he could change into after showering. He doesn’t see his mother smile at his answer.  

After finishing the shower he looks around his room. It was neat. There wasn’t anything that needed cleaning, or something to be placed to its righteous place. 

He didn’t have any homework neither. No assignment nor responsibility. 

Might as well have some fun and paint. Who knows, maybe this time it’ll be a good piece. 

“Great job, Takahashi-kun! These looks amazing!” Matsuo-sensei approves enthusiastically his paintings, looking at the real life canvas and the phone picture the boy was showcasing.  

A wolf and a kangaroo rat.  

Chapter Text

“For you.” 

“What’s this?” Yotasuke asks, not understanding why he was receiving a gift. 

“For your birthday,” Yaguchi replies.  

Yotasuke eyes him weirdly, normally he’d say my birthday was over a month ago but then he remembers it’s better to shut up in this situation. 

“Open it,” Yaguchi urges him, his eyes are sparkling.  

Yotasuke buries his hand into the bag and fishes out a CD box. Don Quixote – Tokyo New National Ballet x Osaka Ballet Academy. He eyes the gift, not sure how he should react. 

“Hashida told me you’d like it,” Yaguchi explains since Yotasuke still didn’t reply. 

Damn you Hashida and your perceptive personality, I shouldn’t have gone anywhere with you.  

“I hope he didn’t just make fun of me, I don’t want to come off as egocentric giving you something like this…” 

“Yaguchi-san, I like it, very much,” Yotasuke cuts him. He lifts his eyes from the box and showcases Yaguchi a small but sincere smile. Yaguchi closes his mouth and replies to Yotasuke’s smile, blushing a little. 

“Are those… piercings?” Yaguchi asks, seeing something sparkle between Yotasuke’s hair strands. 

Yotasuke got so used to the earrings that he forgot about their existence.  

“Yeah...?” 

“May I?” Yaguchi asks, lifting his hand. Yotasuke doesn’t understand the question but doesn’t push Yaguchi away neither. 

Yaguchi takes it as an approval and tugs his bangs behind the ear, revealing the silver rings. The act leaves Yotasuke stupefied. Partly because his personal space was broken, and his body was being touched without a clear warning, partly because it was Yaguchi that was touching him. 

“What the...” he whispers but doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence because Yaguchi chuckles. 

“Haah, I got the same!” He says excitedly. 

“What do you mean?” Yotasuke asks confused. Despite his personal space being broken, he doesn’t get any hint of anger this time.  

Yaguchi removes his hair and bends, revealing his ear in front of Yotasuke.  

“I don’t wear them right now, but I also wear helixes,” he explains while rubbing the place where the ear hole is supposed to be. Yotasuke sees another gem on his earlobe. 

“Is that a tragus?”  

Every day I get to learn something about you, Yaguchi-san...  

“Exactly!” Yaguchi acknowledges, while checking the time on his phone. “I’d love to spend more time with you, Yotasuke-kun, but my next class is about to start, and I really don’t want to be on Saeki-sensei's blacklist...” he says, rubbing the back of his nape. 

Yotasuke hums. “Go on Yaguchi-san, thank you for the gift.” 

Yaguchi turns on his heels but turns his head one more time to tell Yotasuke goodbye. “See you at the performance!” only then he picks up the pace, moving away in a speed walk pace.  

If you don’t want to be late on your class maybe you should run, Yaguchi-san...  

Yotasuke looks at Yaguchi’s figure dissipate between the sea of people before he returns to Tobi’s sixth floor, resuming his work.  

The two boys are still unable to see each other as often as they would like due to their schedules, but at least they were talking now, back to the cat memes and small chat over the texts.  

[ Yaguchi ] : if you could have any superpower, what would it be? 

[ Yotasuke ] : invisibility 

[ Yaguchi ] : damn that’s a good one 

[ Yaguchi ] : I think I want to fly 

[ Yotasuke ] : why 

[ Yaguchi ] : idk birds r cool 

[ Yaguchi ] : what’s your favorite ice cream flavor? 

[ Yotasuke ] : Yaguchi-san, it’s 9 pm 

[ Yaguchi ] : sorry, I was just curious 

[ Yaguchi ] : it came to me in the shower 

[ Yotasuke ] : wtf 

[ Yotasuke ] : vanilla 

[ Yaguchi ] : Yotasuke-kun, what are you thinking about when painting? 

[ Yotasuke ] : composition, colors, contrast, theme 

[ Yaguchi ] : wow you’re so technical 

[ Yotasuke ] : what are you thinking about when dancing? 

[ Yaguchi ] : hmm, 

[ Yaguchi ] : do I look good in these leggings? ( 〃▽〃) 

[ Yotasuke ] : bruh 

“It looks very good, Takahashi-kun,” Matsuo sensei says from behind, looking at the canvas in front of Yotasuke. A dark and grotesque scene, filled with little sparkles. Yotasuke named it “Hope.”

That evening, Yotasuke finds himself in front of his computer way past midnight, eyes glued to the screen. The Carlos Acosta choreography is something truly beautiful. Mind racing as he looks at the main toreador…

“Sekai-kun, you don’t seem to be very excited about watching this with us,” Hashida notices while entering the theater lobby.  

“That’s because I’ve seen it 2 days ago, and every year for the past 13 years,” Yotasuke replies in a passive aggressive way. 

“I also watch Swan Lake every year,” Yaguchi joins the conversation, oblivious to Yotasuke’s hostility towards his family’s tradition, “I like it very much.” 

He tagged along Yotasuke and Hashida, ready to support Maki from the crowd. This year the director has allowed the girl students to do the Little Swans Dance, which is a huge opportunity. It is one of the most important dances in the entire play, seconded only by the Swan Queen herself.  

Well, the dance is called the Dance of the Little Swans for a reason... 

The boys leave their jackets at the entrance and find their seats. They are located in the middle of the crowd, apparently Yaguchi has access to really good tickets. Hashida, Yaguchi, in the middle and Yotasuke.  

“This is the first time I see it live,” Hashida says, contrasting to what the other two said, “I’ve watched it on YouTube though, but I’m ready for the real experience.” 

“Swan Lake is a magical ballet,” Yaguchi replies, “a real classic.”  

Then the abrupt silence appears. The orchestra starts playing and the curtain is drawn, revealing the first scene.  

The story starts with Prince Siegfried that, upon a hunting trip, finds a flock of swans, falling in love with the Swan Princess, Odette. Sadly, Odette is under the curse of an evil sorcerer that allows the girl to take human form only between midnight and daybreak. However, there is hope, because the curse can be broken by faithful, true love. The love between the Prince and Odette.  

To prevent his spell from being broken, the evil sorcerer puts a spell on his own daughter, Odile, making her look identical to Odette.  

At his birthday party, the Prince is enchanted to see his loved one, however, little did he know the actual woman wasn’t the real Odette. 

What's enchanting about this ballet is the contrast between Odette and Odile. The White Swan, Odette, variation and her pas de deux is timid, gentle and delicate. While Odile, well, she’s fiery, she’s the Black Swan, her entire variation is meant to seduce the Prince and steal him away from Odette.  

The distinction between the two roles, that need to be played by the same ballerina, is what makes this role so hard. Especially the Black Swan one, considered one of the hardest variations in ballet.  

Yotasuke can’t see this, he knows it’s hard because his mother told him, but he can’t understand its true complexity. Aiko made it look way too easy two days ago. That's why she’s a prima ballerina, Yotasuke.  

The story doesn’t have a happy ending. Mistaking Odile for Odette, the prince swears eternal love for the Black Swan, dooming both his and Odette’s ending. Depending on the version, either the Prince or the Swan Princess commits suicide, leaving the other one wounded and mourning. 

Swan Lake is the first of the three ballets that Pyotr Tchaikovsky composed, along with Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker. The premiere wasn’t as warmly welcomed as you’d think, the first choreography was something that can only be described as… mediocre. However, the piece was revived 18 years later by... you guessed it, Marius Petipa.  

Today it is a global tradition to watch this piece whenever the year was coming to a close, including Yotasuke’s family, forcing him to sit down and watch the dancers since the age of 5. And that is because they didn’t allow children younger than 5 in the theater. His mother already envisioning his future as a ballet dancer himself. 

“It’s happening...” Yaguchi whispers, seeing the four girls interlacing their hands, preparing for the dance.  

The three of them glue their eyes to the scene, silently cheering for Maki and Kamiyama. The other two girls were from the upper year, and neither did Hashida nor Yotasuke knew them.  

Change coupé to the right, 1-8, 1-2 pace, small grand jeté, look down, pas de bourée and land in fifth position. Relevé passé, the head position changes, look at the left, make it look elegant. Roll through, and repeat this set three more times, left, right left. Four sets, moving according to the music rhythm.   

Entrechat right, entrechat left, followed by four echappés. Do this  four times. Chassé relevé, first arabesque, four times, make sure you end up with the right leg in a croisé after the last arabesque.   

Move backwards diagonally, jété à la seconde onto diagonal, four times.   

Then it’s one of funniest parts, 15 pas de chat to the right, head down, finish with attitude croisé devant.   

Embôité attitude devant, head up. Embôité attitude derrière, head down. Four times. Tombé to the right, tilt your head with every step. End with 15 more emboités, slowly breaking apart the formation and spread across the stage.   

First arabesque, raise your hands, mimic a real swan, and finish the dance with a reverence.  

People start clapping. Yotasuke finds himself engrossed in the same, old choreography. His legs standing up and his hands hitting each other powerfully, he doesn’t feel the pain. Yaguchi and Hashida are quick to follow his example, themselves captivated by the beautiful dance. 

Something about this specific execution stimulates his excitement.   

“Bravo!!” people cheer in the background. Even when the crowd noises start to calm down, the three boys are still standing, looking at the four girls in the middle of the scene, accepting the praises from the crowd. They deserve it, the choreography isn’t an easy one, but they managed to sparkle, even when professional ballerinas fill the stage.  

The four girls disappear backstage, leaving the podium to the three professional ballerinas of the New National Ballet Tokyo company, Dance of the Big Swans, Act II Odette variation, and Coda, before the curtain is drawn on the second act, ending with the Prince and Odette parting ways as the dawn brings her back to the swan form.  

“Let’s go,” Yaguchi says while putting each of his hand on both Hashida and Yotasuke’s thigh to catch their attention. 

“Where?” Hashida asks, Yotasuke is caught up by Yaguchi’s act, cringing at the unexpected touch.  

“Backstage, to congratulate the girls,” Yaguchi says, getting ready to stand up, “don’t worry, we'll be back before the Act III starts,” he adds when he sees Hashida’s slight fear in his eyes, afraid he’ll miss the rest of the experience.  

Yotasuke stands up and the three make their way to the hallway, going through a lateral door, unseen by most of the people. 

“Wait here, the girls are used to me seeing them naked-”  

He is interrupted by Hashida’s snicker and Yotasuke’s confused scowl. 

“Just wait here...” Yaguchi gives in when he realizes what he has said. Some loud squirming is heard behind the door before it opens revealing both Maki and Kamiyama – which is still attached to Yaguchi’s arm in an embrace.   

“Thank you for coming guys,” Maki says, facing Yotasuke and Hashida, “I am so overwhelmed that I barely can support myself, my knees are shaking so bad...”  

Hashida goes next to her and puts his hand on her shoulder, “You were amazing.” 

“Hey, it’s the craftsman!” Kamiyama points her index at Yotasuke. “Didn’t expected someone like you to be interested in ballet!” she laughs. 

You’re not wrong Kamiyama-san, Yotasuke’s inner voice replies.  

“Yotasuke’s cousin is a principal for The Tokyo Ballet, Fumi-san” Yaguchi adds. 

“WHAT?!” Kamiyama shouts, completely bewildered by the piece of information. 

“You,” Yotasuke lifts his hand, addressing both Maki and Kamiyama, “were extraordinary, completely astonishing. I’ve seen this piece multiple times, but you left me mystified,” he breaks his silence to compliment the girls. He doesn’t do it because they are his friends, but because he really felt it. 

Kamiyama’s usual confident face breaks, her lower lip starts shaking while her eyebrows shoot up and her eyes widen. She lets go of Yaguchi’s arm and throws herself into Yotasuke, making the boy take a few steps backwards to keep his balance. 

“Uueeeee...” she cries out, “thank youuu!” is she wailing? “You’re way nicer than I have imagined!!” Her voice is strong, she could be an Opera singer with that force.  

Maki appears next to him and hugs him as a form of  thank you . Yotasuke stays right there, tightening his lips so he doesn’t say anything rude to the girls. He trades his personal space for politeness, Yotasuke are you okay? You’re not yourself when you’re hungry.  

“Guys, we need to return,” Yaguchi says while checking his phone. 

“Wait a little,” Maki says while ripping herself away from Yotasuke and disappearing behind the dressing room, only to reappear seconds later. 

“For you,” she hands the boys three marzipan bars.  

Dancers usually receive gifts after a performance, and apparently Maki is giving away hers. 

“I’m not a big fan of the marzipan,” she adds when no one attempts to pick the sugary treat. After this the boys accept it. If Maki says she doesn’t like it, it would be rude to refuse her, however, Hashida eyes her weirdly, squinting his eyes. 

“Let’s hurry!!” Yaguchi says while picking up the pace so they’re not late for the Act III. 

“What are you doing afterwards?” Hashida asks Maki, while turning his body but keeping eye contact with the girl. 

“Celebration with my family,” she says before Hashida nods and turns his head ahead, trying to catch up with the other two.  

“I enjoyed the piece very much,” Hashida says while outside. “Thank you for introducing me to this marvelous experience.” 

“I’m glad you liked it, Hashida-san,” Yaguchi replies.  

“He liked it because he’s a freak,” Yotasuke intervenes.  

“Excuse-me, Sekai-kun?” Hashida says, unaffected by the word use. 

“It’s a sad love story and that’s why you like it, you enjoy the pain, freak,” Yotasuke says while looking ahead, his facial expression is neutral, as if used to calling Hashida like that. 

“Hey guys, no need to fight,” Yaguchi throws himself between the two, creating a wall. 

“We’re not fighting,” Hashida says in a pacifistic way. “That’s how Sekai-kun tells me he loves me.”  

The love word sends Yotasuke a cold shiver down his spine. “Freak.” 

“Are you taking the train with us, Hashida-san?” Yaguchi asks, changing the subject. 

“My friend is picking me up, do you want a ride?” Hashida offers. 

“Man, his car is so cramped, I needed 30 minutes extra of stretching after riding with him,” Yaguchi complains. This makes Yotasuke chuckle, remembering he went through the same experience.  

“As you wish,” Hashida says, holding his arms up as a surrender action.  

The three boys part ways, Hashida heads towards a bench to wait for his friend’s car while Yotasuke and Yaguchi cross the road, heading to the Hatsudai station. On the other side of the road a call pulls down, making Hashida disappear. 

Inside the train, they sit down on seats next to each other. Yotasuke was fetching his headphones, ready to start listening to music to occupy himself during the ride when the other one decided to speak up. 

“Let’s play a game!” 

“A Hashida style game?” Yotasuke asks, ceasing his movements. Somewhere else in Tokyo, Hashida sneezes. 

“Mhm” Yaguchi hums in agreement. “Let’s switch phones!” 

What?  

Yotasuke looks up at him, skeptical he heard the correct thing. “Switch phones?” He repeats, just to be sure. 

“Yep, I will listen to the usual music you listen, and you will listen to mine.” Yaguchi explains the rule. 

“Why?” Yotasuke asks, creeped out by the idea of allowing Yaguchi to discover his music 

“I just want to know you better,” Yaguchi explains, feeling a bit embarrassed that he has to say this out loud. “You can learn a lot about someone from the music they like.” 

Yotasuke is doubtful for a moment. His music can be… aggressive. Too aggressive for Yaguchi. But in the end, he agrees to his proposal. 

They exchange phones, each one connecting their headphones to the other’s device. Yaguchi doesn’t have his usual big headset, instead he takes out a small case with Bluetooth pods. 

They start the playlists and listen. 

Yaguchi’s first song is kind of… sad? It’s a slow song about a love that wasn’t acted upon at the right time, the lover losing his chances with the other partner forever. Water Fountain. 

The next one is pretty similar. “Shadow fill an empty heart, as love is fading…” Damn, Yaguchi, I didn’t expect you to be this emo.  

Oh, forget it, the next song contradicts the first two. It has a lively and fast pace, and lyrics that fits. SexyBack. This one fits the Yaguchi Yotasuke knows a little better. 

Yotasuke snickers when the next song plays. Avril Lavigne. He remembers the time when Yaguchi suggested his music style was pop punk. Sk8ter boy is still a bop though, very catchy. 

Yaguchi turns his head towards him when he hears him snicker, trying to understand why. But returns to listening to other one’s music. Yotasuke notices Yaguchi’s fingers tapping his thigh, most likely on the par with the tune. Yotasuke would like to have Yuka’s skills, maybe she could decipher which song he is playing. 

The next one is an idol song. Is this BTS? 

Yaguchi’s movements catch Yotasuke’s attention. He lifts the phone and presses some buttons. 

What is he doing? Skipping a song?  

Seeing Yaguchi play with his phone gives Yotasuke anxiety. However, he forgets it when the next song starts playing. 

It’s a rock song. Is it Italian? Yotasuke lifts the phone and lights up the home screen, trying to find out the song’s name. La Paura del Buio.   

“What’s this?” Yotasuke taps Yaguchi’s shoulder to catch his attention.  

“It’s from Sergio,” Yaguchi replies, removing one pod to talk with Yotasuke. “He has good music taste.” 

Somewhere in September  

“Sergio-san, can you recommend me a song?” Yaguchi asks while skipping almost every song he has in his playlist, curious about what Sergio was listening.  

“Darude Sandstorm,” Sergio replies from his bed, eyes glued to the computer screen.  

The next songs are even more confusing, switching between slow, emotional songs, to techno music, even a piano piece. Yaguchi’s playlist is a variety of different genres. Yotasuke’s playlist is only anger. 

They were nearing Yaguchi’s station. He removes the pods from his ears and hands Yotasuke his phone back.  

“I made some screenshots, send them to me later, please,” Yaguchi says, preparing himself to exit. “I like your style, Yotasuke-kun.” 

Yotasuke lifts his hand up and spreads his fingers as a goodbye. He looks at Yaguchi’s silhouette leaving the wagon before he can check what songs Yaguchi saved. 

Morning light by Palaye Royale. The song is from the band’s earlier days, way before all the actual angst, having a soft flow and emotional lyrics, it fits Yaguchi’s style. 

Built to Fall from Trivium and BMTH’s House of Wolves are a bit more aggressive, but apparently Yaguchi listens to anything. 

… 

Yotasuke looks at the screen, doubting his eyesight. Maybe he should get his eyes checked. Why is this song still in his playlist anyway?  

Mindless Self Indulgence – Sex for homework  

“What the fuck, Yaguchi...” Yotasuke whispers under his breath. 

The people are shouting, applauding the dancers. Yotasuke claps from his seated place next to his mother. He is wearing a black tuxedo, ready to join the Christmas family party.  

These are the only family reunions he attends to and he isn’t even sure why, it’s just a bunch of adults bragging about their achievements. They do that every time they meet during the year anyway... it becomes repetitive. 

His father drives them to the dinner hall where they are supposed to meet with everyone. It's a new place, they like to switch things up every time, booking an even more sophisticated restaurant each year.  

His father pulls down into the Shibuya City. Yotasuke goes out of the car and holds the door open for his mother, before his father departing to park the car in the underground parking. The two go ahead, heading to the elevator and pressing the button for the last floor.  

Inside the restaurant, there is a quite large group of people already present through the room, including his mother’s sisters, waiting for them.  

“Good evening,” Yotasuke greets them in a formal way, holding his back straight and his hands behind. 

One of his aunts, Aiko’s mother, comes up to him and squeezes his cheek. “Look at you, Yota, you’re still so short, you haven’t grown a lot this year.”  

Wow, what a great conversation starter.  

“Good evening, Yotasuke,” his other aunt stands up to hug him. How much Yotasuke would like to push her away.  

His mother starts chatting with her sister while Yotasuke looks around. The sky was dark, making the city lights pop. Big glass wall gave access to one of the most beautiful views in Tokyo.  

Shortly after, his father joins them, followed by Aiko 30 minutes, alone. Her husband is away in The States, busy with Christmas concerts. The life of an artist isn’t easy...  

“Good evening, Nee-san,” Yotasuke welcomes his cousin. “Congratulations on the performance, you amazed everyone, just like the usual,” he compliments her, forcing himself to smile while bowing. 

“Thank you, Yotasuke,” she smiles at him before joining the other three women.  

In fact, there aren’t many males in his family, his mother has two older sisters, Aiko’s mother, and the other one has indeed a son, but he works outside of Japan, and their husbands, most likely coming out of obligation, like him.  

Then his father, he has a younger sister, just a few years older than Aiko – Yotasuke's family is weird just like that – she’s not married, and because she is living abroad too she doesn’t join them too often.  

Yotasuke gazes at the city panorama for a few more minutes before joining the men on the other side of the room.  

“Good evening,” he says, not sure if he was interrupting anything.  

“Good evening Yotasuke,” Aiko’s father welcomes him, “how are you, boy?” 

Yotasuke takes a moment to think about the answer, what’s to mention about him? 

“I’m good, thank you, healthy, what about you uncle?”  

“It’s been an amazing year, I was telling your father about the new structure I have for the finances,” bragging, of course. Yotasuke looks at his uncle talking but doesn’t process anything, he isn’t interested by any of that. 

“So, how is it going with the girls?” he stops talking about finances and asks Yotasuke a personal question. 

“Uhmm...” Yotasuke fumbles for a minute, not knowing how to formulate it so he doesn’t embarrass himself. Damn it brain, since when did we care about looking cool?  

“Yotasuke is busy with his studies and entrance exam,” his father comes to his help, putting his arm around him protectively. 

His father’s phone starts ringing and he removes himself from the group to answer the call. Yotasuke looks at him, he gets work calls even on Christmas Eve...  

“You have to live while you’re young,” his uncle winks at him, “before you get married and have to settle down,” he looks at Aiko’s mother, as if regretting marrying her.  

Yotasuke removes the thought from his head, not willing to have these ideas about Aiko’s family.  

They were about to sit down and dine when the elevator door opens, and another participant joins the room. The women eye her suspiciously, however, his father stands up to welcome her in an embrace.  

“Good evening brother,” she says while paring the hug.  

“How was the flight?” He asks, smiling down at the woman. She is of an average height, with long black hair falling on her shoulders, wearing a deep blue dress. 

“Austria is so far away,” she replies before taking a seat next to Yotasuke.  

“Good evening, Yotasuke,” she greets the boy. 

“Good evening, aunt,” Yotasuke replies. 

“You’ve grown so big since the last time I’ve seen you,” she notices while pinching his cheek. She lives overseas but returns to Japan from time to time. “Good evening, Aiko-chan!” she turns towards Aiko, standing right in front of her.  

Aiko smiles at her. “Good evening.”  

The food is brought up. Why are the portions so small if the price is so high? Anyway, Yotasuke isn’t the one to pay, so he doesn’t voice his complaints.  

“What have you been up to this year, Yotasuke?” his aunt turns towards him. “Art school, is that right?”  

Yotasuke nods, glad that at least someone in his family remembers about it. “Yes, I have the exams in February.” 

“You still got plenty of time,” she slaps his back, “when I was in University I was working on my exams on the last minute,” she laughs. 

Hah, aunt, it’s not that easy.  

Instead of saying that, Yotasuke only smirks and nods in a polite way.  

“You know, I’m moving back to Japan,” she says while putting the fork away from her plate. 

“Seriously?” She has left the country for three years after receiving a contract for Austria. 

“Mhm, I scored a contract with the Fujiwara Opera,” she smiles, “I’ll be the Queen of the Night.” 

Yotasuke’s mother side is all about ballet. His father side is about Opera. His parents met at a theater when they were in their late twenties. His father, well, he didn’t think singing could be a good career choice to make a living out of it. 

“Congratulations,” Yotasuke bows in his place.  

The celebration continues for a few more hours during which Yotasuke doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t feel comfortable around all of those pretentious adults. If only his grandmother was still around…  

He is looking at his aunt chatting with Aiko, his mother and her sisters around one side of the room and his father and his uncles in front of the glass wall. He tries to ignore the other participants, as he doesn't feel any connection to them, even if their blood is related.

Yotasuke sits at the table and fetches out of phone under the table. If his mother would saw it she’d lecture him. Troublesome. 

17:36 PM  

[ Yotasuke ] : *sent a picture* 

[ Yaguchi ] : looking good!! 

[ Yotasuke ] : this is how you take a picture, Yaguchi-san 

[ Yotasuke ] : watch and learn 

[ Yaguchi ] : |･ω･) 

[ Yaguchi ] : never 

He looks at the conversation he had with Yaguchi earlier, before his family left for the performance. He sent him a mirror selfie of him wearing the black tuxedo. Unlike Yaguchi, Yotasuke knows how to take pictures, it comes with the art skills. 

23:45 PM  

[ Yotasuke ] : Save me 

[ Yotasuke ] : *sent a picture*  

He sent another selfie, taken from under the table. His face resting on his fist, one strand of hair covering his left eye.  

[ Yaguchi ] : I didn’t think you’d want to be the damsel in distress 

[ Yaguchi ] : wait for me, your knight ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ 

[ Yotasuke ] : that’s very heteronormative of you Yaguchi-san 

Yotasuke has heard a lot of terms like that coming from Yaguchi for the past weeks, since he returned from Osaka.  

[ Yaguchi ] : (ಠ_ಠ) 

[ Yaguchi ] : *sent a picture* 

Yotasuke taps on the file. It's a selfie of Yaguchi and three more boys, out of which Yotasuke recognizes one as Utashima, the barista.  

[ Yaguchi ] : these are my friends o(^^o)(o^^o)(o^^o)(o^^)o 

[ Yaguchi ] : maybe I'll introduce you sometime  

[ Yaguchi ] : We’re heading home 

[ Yaguchi ] : it’s pretty late, I need my beauty sleep (￣o￣) zzZZzzZZ 

[ Yotasuke ] : you need to hibernate if it’s like that 

Yotasuke and Yaguchi become pretty close recently, allowing Yotasuke to tease Yaguchi from time to time.  

[ Yaguchi ] : (°ロ°) ! 

[ Yaguchi ] : Yotasuke-kun, you’re so mean 

[ Yotasuke ] : it’s the truth 

[ Yaguchi ] : Anyway, I’m going home 

[ Yaguchi ] : btw are you doing anything tomorrow? 

Yotasuke collects his art supplies inside his shoulder bag and leaves Tobi.  The restaurant is around 10 minutes away from the cram school. In fact it is right next to the Shinjuku train station where he embarks at every time he goes to the art studio. 

The place has two levels and occupies a small portion in the Keio Mall. However, no matter how small it was, the number of people inside made Yotasuke reconsider his agreement to meet the others at a KFC during Christmas. The Japanese tradition of eating fried chicken on Christmas day was ridiculously spread. 

He gets inside and goes right to the second floor, the group is already inside, keeping a chair for him.  

“Hello,” Yotasuke greets them. 

The group turns their heads towards him and reply in a synchronous way. Yotasuke goes to the place that they saved for him, next to Yaguchi. He looks at the people present. Maki, Yuka, Kamiyama, Ogihara and another girl he doesn’t recognize.  

“Where’s your Christmas spirit, Yotasuke?” Yuka asks revolted, while removing her Christmas hat and putting on his head.  

Now that he thinks about it, everyone around the table was dressed up in Christmas attire, Kamiyama was also wearing a hat, Maki has a red and white scarf, Yaguchi has one of those horrible Christmas sweaters, and Ogihara and the last girl were wearing matching deer ears. And Yuka, well, she went all out in a full Mrs. Christmas costume. 

“Thank you,” Yotasuke replies shortly. He wasn’t a big fan of these accessories, but there’s no need to break the mood. 

He looks around, “Isn’t Hashida-san coming?” he asks.  

He saw Hashida at Tobi that morning, but he lost sight of him, thinking he went ahead to meet with his friends here. 

“He’s... busy,” Yuka replies while the rest of the girls chuckle.  

“Like, really busy,” Maki adds, making Ogihara and Kamiyama burst into laughter.  

Does Yotasuke want to know the reason behind their amusement? No, not really. Might be something gross or weird, it’s Hashida we’re talking. 

“How was your morning?” Yaguchi asks while munching on a chicken piece.  

“The teacher brought us cake,” Yotasuke replies. 

“You’re also studying at Tobi, right?” the girl whose name he doesn’t know speaks up. Yotasuke nods. 

“I’m also at Tobi, Japanese painting,” she explains, she silently asks with a head swing Yotasuke about his own department. 

“Oil painting,” he replies. 

“We also received cake this morning, but our teacher made us draw with charcoal and it was ruined,” she puts her hands on her cheeks, silently crying about the wasted dessert.  

Suddenly Yotasuke is glad that Matsuo-sensei isn’t this sadistic.  

“This is my girlfriend, Kudou,” Ogihara makes the introductions, “This is Takahashi-kun.” 

The two do a little nod, acknowledging each other’s name. 

“I have something for you all,” Yuka speaks up, putting a red bad on the table.  

She really went full on the Christmas, huh....  

“They’re homemade,” she hands everyone a bag of cookies.  

Yaguchi eyes the gift for a moment, “Did you put something in mine?” he asks, not trusting the girl.  

“Try them and find out,” she replies in a mischievous way. Yaguchi takes one biscuit out and bites into it. 

“Mmm!! They're incredible, Yuka!” Kamiyama compliments her before Yaguchi. Everyone agrees loudly while chewing. 

“Yotasuke-kun,” Yaguchi lifts a cookie in front of him. Yotasuke eyes him weirdly before picking it and throwing it inside his mouth. Yaguchi hoped Yotasuke would’ve bitten it out of his hand.  

Maki taps her screen phone before her eyebrows shoot up and her eyes widen.  

“Be right back,” she says while heading towards the bathroom. 

“Thank you, Yuka,” Yotasuke says while putting the bag of biscuits into his art bag.  

“What did you do yesterday, guys?” she asks. 

“Date,” Ogihara and Kudou reply synchronously.  

Yuka fakes a tear around the corner of her eye, “Young love, so beautiful…” 

“I watched The Grinch,” Kamiyama says while huffing and crossing her arms over her chest. Yuka puts her arm over her shoulders, bringing the smaller girl closer into a hug. 

“I went out for drinks in Shibuya with the boys,” Yaguchi continues.  

“Uhm.. we have family reunions on Christmas Eves,” Yotasuke replies, trying to make it sound unimportant. 

“Oooh, that sounds fancy,” Yuka comments.  

Please don’t say it like that, Yuka...  

Yotasuke shrugs while Maki returns. Are her eyes red?  

“Let me put it otherwise then,” Yuka continues, “What are your plans for the New Year?” She starts, pointing her index finger at people, demanding them to answer.  

“Sleep,” Ogihara says while resting her head on Kudou’s shoulder.  

“Sleep,” Kamiyama seconds. 

“Sleep,” Maki and Yaguchi repeat.  

“We have the performance on the second day of January, we don’t really get the chance to party this year,” Ogihara explains. 

“Art assignments,” Kudou says. “Same,” Yotasuke adds, taking another piece of chicken. 

“You’re no fun, guys,” Yuka says beaten.  

“Well, then, let’s have a toast, the last for this year,” Yuka says while lifting her champagne glass.  

On Christmas day in Japan, when you order fried chicken, it often comes with a glass of champagne. Maki takes a water glass.  

“Cheers,” everyone says while knocking their glasses together. “Let’s hope for a better year,” Yuka adds before taking a sip.  

Yotasuke sits in front of his canvas, adding the final touches to one of the homework pieces Matsuo requested them to do. The house is dead silent, his parents are away at a New Year’s party, even Fumi seems to be asleep on her bed in the living room.  

Yotasuke’s phone starts vibrating on the desk. 

“Hello...?” he answers the call. 

“Are you available right now?”  

Chapter Text

Yotasuke gets out of the Shibuya train station, making his way through the sea of people that were heading towards the Meiji Shinto shrine.  

It was nearing midnight, but the amount of neon lights made it look like daylight. He plants his hands into the warm pockets and buries his head into the scarf sitting around his neck. He doesn’t need the gps application this time, he memorized the address.  

Inside the building he presses the interphone button, waiting for the door to open. But there’s no reply. He presses the button one more time. Still nothing. He fishes his phone out and dials her phone number. She refuses the call, but the door opens.  

Yotasuke takes the elevator to the eight floor and knocks on the door. Nothing. He knocks again. The door opens but there’s no one behind it to welcome him. 

“Hello...?” he says while entering the house. No sign of movement. He doesn’t want to wander too much, he sits in the dark hallway, thinking about his next move. 

Oh right...  

Yotasuke knows where Yuka is. He removes his shoes and proceeds inside the soundproof room without any hesitation.

Inside, Yuka was playing a slow paced work. Dark but yet filled with such a pure emotion that makes Yotasuke relieve the feeling of ‘I’ve heard this before, what’s its name?’ But that’s not possible, he’s not a knowledgeable musician.

He doesn’t say anything however, he continues watching the girl perform while moving towards the sofa. The song is slow, there is a calming feeling that comes from it. But at the same time, Yotasuke feels his heart pang a little, as if the artist contented themselves with a loss. She lifts her hand, touching four keys at a time while the other hand’s fingers moves slowly over the keyboard, trying to capture what the composer wanted to express.  

The song is simple and touching. It keeps a slow rhythm in the beginning, with a few notes that are louder. Stronger. As if it was an angry cry. But then it moves on... it returns to it's simple and quiet nature. Accepting that the fate can't be changed. She hits the last four keys, two on each hand and letting the sound vibrate before lifting her hands off the keyboard.  

“It’s beautiful,” Yotasuke breaks the silence, “what is it called?”  

“Marche Funèbre,” Yuka replies while keeping her eyes glues to the keyboard. “or Funeral Parade translated. The third piece Tchaikovsky's 40th Opus, a series of 12 pieces for piano, of moderate difficulty,” she adds while lifting her head to look at Yotasuke with an empty expression.  

“He wrote them while in Florence. In a letter to his patroness, Tchaikovsky said that he wished to write a new piece each morning,” she monologues while lowering her head back on the piano.   

“I have decided that each morning I shall write something new. Yesterday I wrote a romance, and today a piano piece,” she quotes the said letter while picking up the score and setting it on the bookcase and taking another one out, analyzing it.

"It is said Tchaikovsky wrote this for Eduard Zak, a 19 year old boy who Tchaikovsky loved with his soul. Sadly, his life ended in the most tragic way..."

There's no need to mention the reason, as Yotasuke can guess it based on the sudden sorrowful atmosphere that arose around them. 

“Born in Russia, when he was just 5 years old, Tchaikovsky began taking piano lessons. Although he displayed an early passion for music, his parents hoped that he would grow up to work in the civil service. But when he was 21, he decided to take music lessons at the Russian Musical Society. A few months later, he enrolled at the newly founded Saint Petersburg Conservatory, becoming one of the school’s first composition students,” she says while reading the score she has taken out. “However, his music wasn't well received until later in his life,” she lifts her eyes from the paper to look at Yotasuke.   

"He composed an incredible amount of pieces... over 100 for piano, 11 Opera, the most well known ballets are written by him too... He was the first Russian writer to make a lasting impression internationally despite being underapreciated in his homeland." 

"Now that I think of it... his last piece was a Piano Concerto that he never got the chance to finish due to his sudden death..." 

“Mozart used to be my grandmother's favorite, but I think I prefer Tchaikosky better...”  

“Used to...?” Yotasuke repeats, “Is she...?” 

“No, she’s not dead,” Yuka replies while setting the score in its right place on the piano. “But she can’t play anymore...” she says while standing up.  

Yuka takes a few steps, setting herself in front of the glass wall, admiring city light. Yotasuke would like to know more but he doesn’t know how to ask her about a subject that seems so delicate. He keeps his mouth shut, for the sake of not saying something rude without wanting. 

“First it was Parkinson’s,” she replies to his silent questions with her back turned at him, “then it came the Alzheimer.”  

“Parkinson’s ripped away her ability to play the piano and Alzheimer ripper her away from anyone she knew and loved,” her voice breaks a little.  

Yotasuke doesn’t know how to process this information. He stands up from the sofa and goes next to her, putting his hand on her back. Comforting.  

She looks at him with a pained look on her face.  

“She barely knows who I am anymore. She's doesn’t… remember, she’s always saying ‘How are the piano classes, Ryuji? I’m sorry that I can’t teach you anymore’...” Yuka turns her head back to the window.  

“I went to see her today,” she makes a break to swallow, “and she did, she remembered... she called me Yuka.” 

‘Yuka, is that you? You grew up so beautiful, my little Yuka'  

Yotasuke’s eyes widen for a second.  

“I am so happy,” a tear falls out of her eye, she lifts her hands to rub it.  

Yotasuke rubs her back before taking her head into his arm and hugging her.  

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for bringing down the mood on the New Year’s Eve,” Yuka says while keeping the embrace.  

“Don’t worry,” Yotasuke replies, not sure what else he could say, he didn’t want to be a dick around Yuka, if something, he is glad that she trusted him enough to share this piece of herself.  

The two break the hug and head out on the balcony, for the countdown.  

10   

a lot has happened this year  

9   

I met Maki and Yuka  

8   

and Hashida somehow became  

7   

my friend  

6   

and I also met  

5   

Yaguchi  

4   

I wonder if he is  

3   

asleep right now  

2   

…  

1   

I’m grateful for this year  

0  

Happy New Year!  

Yuka and Yotasuke hug one more time, this time doing it for the sake of celebration. 

“Do you want something to drink?” she asks while closing the balcony door.  

“Actually... I came with my art supplies...” Yotasuke points at the bag next to the sofa.  

Yuka laughs, “Study it is,” she adds before returning to her piano seat and starting to play another piece Yotasuke doesn’t know. 

They sit like that, each one engrossed in their activity until Yotasuke’s ears catch attention of something.  

‘drops of water shooting from a fountain’  

“...Is that the Sugar Plum Fairy dance?” Yotasuke asks, driven by curiosity.  

“Tchaikovsky wrote it for a celesta, but it seems it is recognizable even if played by a piano,” Yuka jokes. “How do you know it?”  

“My family is... into ballet,” he replies, “my cousins – she’s a ballerina – she plays the Sugar Plum Fairy every year, they don’t even hold auditions anymore, they just give the role to her...” he explains with a little bit more of details.  

“She loves it so much that the company agreed to her changes: they do the entire Ivanov choreography – the classical one – but not the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, she insisted on the Grigorovich...” 

“Your cousin must be very talented,” Yuka says, “the Dance of The Sugar Plum is every ballerina’s dream-” she stops her sentence after seeing Yotasuke’s conflicted expression, “-but you don’t seem to care.” She ends up chuckling. 

“It’s not that, it’s just... ugh, I don’t know how to use words,” Yotasuke grunts, frustrated with his incapability to express what he’s thinking.  

“It’s okay Yotasuke, you don’t have to explain yourself,” Yuka says while going to sit next to Yotasuke.  

He was sitting on the floor, afraid not to make Yuka’s white coach dirty with charcoal.  

“It’s funny though.” 

“What’s funny?” Yotasuke asks, confused about what Yuka meant. 

“You don’t like ballet, yet you are friends with Yaguchi,” she explains. 

“Ah... yeah...” Yotasuke speaks, stopping his hand midair and looking at the canvas but not seeing the artwork.  

“How did you two become friends anyway?” Yuka asks, making herself comfortable on the coach.  

“I don’t know... it just... happened?” Yotasuke replies.  

His mind went blank, when did he even become friends with Yaguchi? He saw him once during one performance and then at the Geidai exposition and then he just... he returned for every performance of his.  

“Mhm,” Yuka says while curling up, “you like him, don’t you?”  

… 

Yotasuke stops for a moment to process the question.  

Yes…  

He doesn’t answer Yuka’s question. 

“You should tell him,” she says while turning on the sofa, looking at the ceiling. "Tchaikovsky once said that the muse doesn't come without being called."

“It would be... troublesome...” Yotasuke finds an excuse. 

“Why are you saying that?” she asks, standing up on her elbows to look at him. 

“Accepting your feelings and expressing them in front of someone else, is... I don’t know...” Yotasuke gets frustrated again with his lack of vocabulary. “Like, do I even want to invest myself in a relationship? And what if, after accepting my feelings and I get my hopes high, he just doesn’t reciprocate? I don’t even know if he’s gay or straight. It would make things awkward, and it’s just too much work.”  

Yuka falls back on the coach, remembering a scene from the early October. 

“Ryuji, can we talk?”  

“What is it Yatora?”   

“As in, talk in private...” Kamiyama puts her hand over the mouth, smiling suggestively.   

“Thank you,” Yaguchi says after finding a secluded spot. “I-uhm, I don’t know how to address this.”  

“Address what?” Yuka asks, waiting to hear Yatora out.  

“Pronouns... ehm, you use she/her, right?” Yaguchi asks.  

“Yes,” she replies quickly, still waiting to see where Yaguchi was heading with this.   

“But you’re not gay ...?”  Yaguchi continues.   

“I’m bisexual, Yatora ,”  Yuka says.  

“That means you can like both men and women, right?”   

“Yes.”  

“And your name is... Yuka, right?”  

“Yatora, what is the meaning of all of this?” Yuka asks, confused by Yaguchi’s change of perspective.  

“I just- I want to understand everything better, and I’m sorry if I was disrespecting you, I’m new to this ...”   

“I understand what you’re saying Yotasuke, but try to think about the bright side, what if he likes you? And what if it’s good?” Yuka asks, forcing Yotasuke to consider the option.  

What if it’s good?  

Yotasuke is left alone with his thoughts. He lifts his head and sees that Yuka has fallen asleep.  

He goes out of the room and searches for a blanket for the girl, it was winter after all. He checks one room that he assumes is the girl’s due to the girlish décor. Yotasuke enters it and stumbles upon an old picture of a seven years old Yuka with an elderly woman, most likely her grandmother. 

He returns to the piano room with the blanket and lays it over her body before resuming his sketch. 

“You can go ahead,” Maki says, while resting on the bench. 

“You’re sure? Maki-san, you don’t seem too well,” Yaguchi notices, getting alarmed. He puts his arm over her forehead, she’s not hot… instead she seems normal, maybe a bit cold to the touch. 

“I’m just tired, the Flea variation was a little rough…” she explains. 

The Still Life at the Penguin Café ballet presents characters that are endangered by the anthropological activities such as the Longhorn Ram, the Kangaroo Rat, the Skunk Flea, the Zebra or the Wooly Monkey. The contemporary piece variations are energetic and require a lot of stamina, it’s only normal that the girl got a little tired after jumping around. 

“Do you want me to call your sister?” Kamiyama asks, they didn’t want to leave her alone. 

“Please,” she replies, resting her head into her arms. 

“Do you want my gloves, Maki?” Yotasuke offers, alarmed by the girl’s blue nails and shivering. 

The new year was advancing quickly, and with it, the exams were approaching. For the past few days, neither Yotasuke nor Yaguchi contacted each other, out of a silent mutual consent, unlike the last time they didn’t talk.  

“It’s over…” Utashima says, morally broken after two days of language and science testing. 

“Yes, I’m finally able to focus on dancing only!!” Yaguchi happily says, contrasting his friend. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Utashima complains about his oblivious friend. 

“Oya?” Utashima says, confused, “Hey, it’s Yotasuke-kun,” he points out at the small figure between the people. “Yotasuke-kuuun!!” He shouts and waves his hand up, trying to get his attention. 

Yotasuke turns his head towards the noise source, wondering who has calling him. He sees Utashima and… Yaguchi? 

“Hello, Utashima-san.” 

“Yo, Yotasuke, long time no see, how have thing been?” Utashima asks, happy to see Yotasuke again. They didn’t see each other since Utashima stopped working for the coffee shop. 

“Good… how was the exam?” Yotasuke asks, not sure why he was making small chat. 

“Geh, what about you?” Utashima replies, trying to switch the focus to something else. 

“Yotasuke-kun is very smart,” Yaguchi adds from behind Utashima. 

“You’re also taking the exam, Yaguchi-san?” Yotasuke asks, he didn’t expect Yaguchi to show interest in this, he has already an assured future in dance. 

“Yep, I finished highschool classes,” he explains. He was doing online classes which aren’t necessarily recognized in Japan, but highschool isn’t mandatory and anyone can take the Center Exam. “Who knows, maybe I’ll take some University classes later in life, it’s better to be prepared.” 

Yotasuke listens to Yaguchi’s talking. He has plans for the future, his ambition is high. It’s motivating to see someone like him.  

What if it’s good…  

Could those future plans include Yotasuke?  

The piano room is filled with high-pitched notes. The song starts slow, or as slow as we can define for this piece. It imitates the lush of a rain. But the bell-like sounds only become more powerful, the little water droplets become a compelling downpour. The pianist’s hands are moving to a speed that seems impossible for a commoner. 

“Ah fuck,” she breathes out while missing a few notes, breaking the harmony. 

“La Campanella!” Yaguchi exclaims, guessing the song’s name. 

“Mhm,” Yuka hums, too focused on the keys to form an actual sentence. 

“How do you know that?” Yotasuke asks, he wasn’t familiar to any of the pieces Yuka was playing. 

“I’m a ballet student, Yotasuke-kun,” Yaguchi replies, “it’s only normal I know some of the most known pieces ever written, it’s impossible to miss the bell-like sounds only Liszt could create.”  

Bruh, no need to make me feel stupid…  

“He also has music classes for that, Yotasuke,” Yuka intervenes, missing too many notes and hitting the keys, giving up on the piece. “This is too hard for me,” she complains, lifting her arms off the piano. 

“How are the exam preparations going?” Hashida asks. He was busy looking at Yuka’s record library.  

“Ughh…” she starts, “there are two examinations, everyone must perform a Beethoven Sonata and Chopin for the first, then we get to choose for the second. I'd like to do Tchaikovsky, but he's not among the options, so I'll use Liszt.” 

“If it helps you, art isn’t going well either,” Yotasuke jokes to bring up the mood. 

“Says the prodigy,” Yuka complains. If you want to be self deprecating at least do it about something you really aren’t good at.  

Yotasuke doesn’t reply to that. 

“What about you, Yatora?” Hashida shifts the conversation.  

“Uhm, there’s the graduation performance for the upper years, but we’re off season for now until later in spring…” Yaguchi explains. He didn’t have much to do right now, but he wasn’t complaining, they were finally allowed two rest days per week. 

“Do you want to join me and Sekai on an art museum visit?” Hashida asks, addressing both Yuka and Yatora. 

“What?” Yotasuke asks confused. “When did I agree to that?” 

“Right now,” Hashida replies slyly, abandoning the library and moving towards the sofa, where his friends were sitting. 

“Can’t do,” Yuka stands up from the piano seat and goes to place the record in its right place, “piano classes.” 

“What about you, Yaguchi?”  

“Is Kuwana-san doing better?” Hashida asks. They didn’t see Maki as often in the past days, she didn’t join the group after their New Years performance, and ever since she was very rarely seen outside of the dance studio. 

“I don’t know to be honest,” Yaguchi answers while stepping inside the Morzon. “She’s very dedicated to her dancing... She’s desperate they might put her back into the  corps ” 

Hashida falls silent upon hearing this, analyzing the information Yaguchi just shared. 

“Do you go often to art museums, Yotasuke-kun?” Yaguchi asks. 

“No, not really,” Yotasuke replies while looking at a copy of Steen’s The Feast of Saint Nicholas.  

The painting is from the Dutch Golden Era, where the painters were obsessed with their artworks to be as detailed and close to reality as possible, mastering the depiction of light, resulting in glorious paintings, incomparable to anything else. And in Steen’s chase, the chaos was never absent. He made the conscious choice to portray the imperfections that dominate the domestic life. The painting swallows you in, forcing your eyes to pay attention to every feature. 

“What about you, Yaguchi-san?” Yotasuke shifts his head towards Yaguchi. His eyes wander around, no sign of Hashida. 

“Maki’s sister is a painter, sometimes I join her on exhibitions, but I’m no expert when it comes to it,” Yaguchi says while walking around. “Like, what am I supposed to understand from this?” He points his finger at The Son of a Man by Rene Magritte. 

Yotasuke chuckles, art isn’t always an obvious thing.  

“Magritte drew that painting as a self-portrait, the artist himself said that covering the face partially awakes an intense feeling of conflicted interest in the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.” Hashida appears out of nowhere.  

“No need to flex this hard,” Yotasuke says while stepping away to continue with the exposition. 

“What about you, Hashida-san, are you visiting museums often?”  

“You don’t want to hear the answer,” Yotasuke tells Yaguchi, preventing him about the long reply. 

“Let me see, last month: Mori Museum, Kawamura Museum, Bambinart Gallery, Kanazawa Contemporary Art Museum …” 

“Told you!” Yotasuke cuts Hashida from a few feet away. 

“My friend does expositions sometimes,” Hashida ends his monologue. 

“Can you show me some of his paintings?” Yaguchi asks Hashida while Yotasuke continues his walk alone. 

He loses himself in Helen Kröller’s Vincent van Gogh painting collection. It was exposed for the Japanese public for a limited amount of time, and it would be a shame for him to miss it, especially when most of the original paintings are overseas, in Europe or The States. 

It’s interesting to see the painter’s works going from a smooth outlook to his most known style with little brushstrokes in vibrant colors. Was it the mental illness or his pure genius the one that induced this change? 

Unlike Steen, van Gogh’s artworks do not contain as many details, they look grotesque and rough. In fact, he didn’t even paint anything until the age of 27. Then he joined the Académie Royale des Beaux-Arts in Brussels where he studied for… one year. For these reasons, and his bad marketing, he wasn’t given a lot of attention when he was alive. He ended up broke, depressed and dead.  

But he is one of the most known artists today. Huh, the irony, what’s even the point of it if you don’t get supported when you’re alive? Corpses can’t feel anything when they die…  

Yotasuke looks around, neither did Hashida nor Yaguchi follow him. He goes out of the little white room to search for them. 

The first he finds is Yaguchi. He seems to be absorbed into a painting. He doesn’t even shift his weight from leg to leg, he’s just there… petrified… Yotasuke looks at the piece that captivated him… 

Of course  

“You like it?” Yotasuke comes next to him. 

Yaguchi doesn’t verbally reply. Instead, he nods while looking at the painting. 

“Edgar de Gas, or just Degas as he’s better known, is one of the main Impressionism representatives, along with Monet, Manet, Cézanne or Renoir. However, he hated the association with the Impressionism, instead he preferred the word realist.”  

“Stop it, Hashida, you’re scaring him,” Yotasuke complains. Is it even fun to hear such details? Who even cares? 

“Degas painted dancers a lot,” Hashida continues, shifting towards something Yaguchi might be more familiar with. 

“Degas was obsessed by the art of classical ballet, not because he found it as a way to escape the real life, but because it could explain the actual life better,” Hashida continues, lifting his hand to his chin. Yaguchi turns his head to look at him, absorbing every word he shares. 

“He was often visiting the Garnier Opera, studying and sketching the girls’ movements. He even invited numerous of them to his studio.To pose, of course. He enjoyed their presence, but in a complete paternal way.” Hashida takes a moment to look at the piece Yaguchi was engrossed into. 

“This piece is the companion of The Ballet Class, commissioned by Jean-Baptiste Faure. It took Degas over three years to complete the original, temporarily abandoning it and submitting this one to Faure instead. It depicts a dance class under the ballet master Jules Perrot from-” Hashida is interrupted by Yaguchi’s loud grasp. 

“What is it, Yaguchi-san?” 

“I GET IT!” he shouts while fishing out his phone, jumping in place, overly excited about something that he was yet to reveal. 

“What do you mean Yatora?” 

Yaguchi furiously taps the screen while walking in place, trying to express his enthusiasm.  

“Look!!” He lifts his phone, on the screen it’s a CD cover. 

Adolphe Adam – Giselle  

“The cover! it’s a painting by this guy, right?! right?!!” He asks, he can’t contain his smile, he continues his series of little hops. 

“Yes,” Hashida replies, still confused why Yaguchi was so excited about this. 

“I get it!! Oh my god! I finally understand why they put this illustration, I thought it was because it’s a ballerinas painting but his guy, Degus-” 

“-gas” Hashida corrects Yaguchi, Yotasuke glares behind his back.

“Degas, he painted sir Jules Perrot and Sir Jules Perrot created Giselle on Adolphe Adam’s music!! It all makes sense now!” Yaguchi explains. His face is getting red because of the ardent way he was talking. 

Yotasuke looks at him, at Yaguchi, being all smitten over these details. He looks so childish jumping around, the way his eyes were sparkling, his reddening cheeks, even his lips are turning pinker due to the blood flow. 

He looks kind of… cute like that…  

Yotasuke is immersed into analyzing Yaguchi. Would those eyes sparkle too when talking with Yotasuke? Would his cheeks turn pink at the thought of him? Would those lips be soft? 

…what if it’s good?  

“I’m afraid I need to leave,” Hashida looks at his phone, "but I bet Sekai knows more about Degas and his ballerina paintings, there must be more mysteries to unveil,” he winks at the two of them while turning on his heels and leaving the boys alone. 

“Oh my god!!” Yaguchi continues, “the guy that requested this painting was a singer and he played roles in Sir Adolphe Adam’s Operas!! It’s all connected!” Yaguchi puts his hand over Yotasuke’s arm, still jumping around, looking straight into Yotasuke’s eyes. 

Instead of telling him to keep quiet before they are kicked out, Yotasuke says: 

“Tell me more.” 

“Thank you for listening to my blabbering today, Yotasuke-kun…” Yaguchi says later, in the train home. “I got really into it… it’s just everything is… connected and that’s so cool…” 

“No need to excuse yourself Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke replies, he looks at Yaguchi’s eyes, memorizing the hues. They’re golden… 

“I like to listen to you talking about something that interests you,” he smiles, still looking at Yaguchi.  

Isn’t this the reason why the two of you are sitting next to each other on a train? Because Yaguchi was passionate about dancing and this is what caught your attention, Yotasuke…  

Yaguchi stays speechless like that for a moment, not sure how to deal with Yotasuke. It was kind of intimidating to see him like that. Was Yotasuke affectionate? Or is Yaguchi imagining things? He’s probably just friendly …  

“Your stop is next,” Yotasuke says while tapping Yaguchi’s shoulder, bringing the boy back to reality. 

Yaguchi stands up. He is a ballet dancer and ballet dancers have amazing equilibrium, but tonight he needs to hold onto the bar. 

The two parts ways for the night. Yotasuke looks at Yaguchi leaving the train and disappearing into the sea of people present in the station before he can lift his hand to his face, checking if his face is as warm as he felt. 

He covers his face with his hand, hiding his wide smile from the eyes of the strangers. 

“I’m home,” Yotasuke announced, hanging his coat but not the scarf. 

“Good evening, Yota,” his mother appears from the kitchen. “The dinner is ready,” she lets him know. 

“I’ll come right up,” he says before heading to his room. 

He goes to the desk and looks for the notebook. It must be somewhere in the drawer. He moves a few things away, picking it up. 

He picks a pen and opens the notebook to where he left it last time. 

Yaguchi  

I hate him.

He scribbles the previous statement, choosing a different approach. Something real and true this time

I like Yaguchi Yatora. Romantically.  

He closes it. And with this, Yotasuke completes the assignment Matsuo-sensei gave him months ago. 

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Yotasuke-kun.” 

“Good morning, Yaguchi-san.” 

Coming to terms with his feelings for Yaguchi really did wonders for his art. Yotasuke’s personality didn’t change, he was still not-much-of-a-talker, and his attitude was still cold and repellent. But the motifs were varied, the compositions were on point, the themes were interesting and well addressed. Matsuo-sensei was glad to see this change in Yotasuke.  

Yaguchi removes his headset and fishes out pair of string headphones. How many sets of headphones does this guy have? He plugs one in and offers Yotasuke the other. 

“What?” Yotasuke asks, not understanding what Yaguchi was trying to do. 

“Try it,” he ushers him. Yotasuke doesn’t ask anything anymore and compels. 

The tune inside Yaguchi’s headphone was slow and abstract, is this Opera? But he can’t distinguish the lyrics. Or can he?  

“Meow?” Yotasuke asks, a bit shocked. He keeps his voice low, enough for Yaguchi to hear but not the other passengers. The lyrics can’t be just miau. Right? 

“Meeeeoooooww,” instead, Yaguchi copies the singer. 

“The fuck is this?” Yotasuke asks, still not believing what his mind was telling him. 

It can’t be. This kind of music is supposed to be somber, serious. It's one of the highest forms of art. Who would even write a song like this, with just  miau   miau  as lyrics? And who would even perform this in front of someone else? Don't Opera singers keep their voices for actual performances? This is a joke, right?  

Yaguchi taps his screen, putting the song on pause so the conversation doesn’t break the experience. 

“Duetto buffo di due gatti. I’m sure Sergio would kill me for this bad pronunciation,” Yaguchi replies and laughs at the implications of his last sentence. “It means Humorous duet for two cats, and the lyrics are just meow,” Yaguchi explains, shaking his head, trying to curb his smile.  

Yotasuke looks at him dumbfounded. His eyes are wide while his face tries to contain his huge smirk, making his eye look half open. He puts his hand over his mouth, and turns his head away, chortling. And his chortle turns into laughter. 

“I knew you’d like it,” Yaguchi says, content with Yotasuke’s reaction. 

“I love it,” Yotasuke says between chuckles. He wipes the corner of his eyes, he was tearing from the laughter.  

“Play it, I want to hear the entire piece,” Yotasuke says, trying to calm down but he burst into giggles once again when he hears the next high miau being executed perfectly. Someone was seriously singing this. 

“Yuka, did you know there’s a Cat duet?”  

“You mean the one from Mozart’s Der Stein der Weisen?”  

“THERE’S A CAT DUET IN A MOZART OPERA?!” 

Yuka looks at him, confused about his reaction. 

“The man was crazy. He would often mimic cats when he was bored, so of course he wrote a cat duet...”  

… 

“He would...  WHAT?” Yotasuke can’t believe his ears.  

Maybe Opera isn’t as sober as he thought.  

“Hey, Yuka, do you want to watch The Magic Flute with me? My aunt is performing...” 

“Tomorrow is the exam, Yotasuke-kun,” Matsuo says. “I advise you to head home early today and rest, just like everyone else,” he adds before leaving the room.  

Yotasuke lifts his head to looks around. It was only around 5PM but he was the only one inside the art studio. 

He nods to what the teacher has said, thinking he was right. He collects his affairs, looking around the art studio one more time. 

For over one year he has come here almost every day. Two more weeks and we won’t ever return here. It’s kind of nostalgic if you think about it.  

“Good evening, sensei…” Yotasuke says before heading down the hall. 

The walk to the train station has an eerie feeling to it. What if he fails? What if this is the last time he shows up here?  He tries to clear his mind away. These thoughts are not the ones he needs right now. 

Yotasuke embarks on the train and takes a seat next to the door, looking at the ground, lost in thought.  

Over one year of preparations. Having to deal with school and cram school was hard. But he did it. And he’s going to pass. Everything is going to be alright... 

The train stops for the Hatsudai station, some people leave the train, other people enter. Yotasuke lifts his head, looking around. He was alone between all those strangers. 

Only that his eyes catch attention of someone. Tall, wearing a long coat, messy hair. 

And suddenly he isn’t as lonely anymore.  

He lifts his hand up and waves it, hoping he would catch Yaguchi’s attention. But the other one is too oblivious, caught up in his own world. Yotasuke stands up and goes across the wagon, taping his shoulder. 

Yaguchi turns and his eyes widen at the sight of Yotasuke. 

“Yotasuke-kun!” 

“Good evening, Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke greets the other boy. “Let’s sit,” he points the two empty seats next to the door. 

“How was your day?” Yaguchi asks. Yotasuke can’t explain this in words, be he knows he’s happy to hear Yaguchi ask about his day. 

“I-.. hm, I don’t even know how to put it, haa...” he exhales. Yotasuke didn’t realize the amount of tension he was holding in his body. Yaguchi puts his hand on his back, rubbing. 

“Tomorrow is the first exam, right?”  

Yotasuke nods, looking at the ground. 

“Let’s talk about something else then,” Yaguchi proposes. “Did you know that sharks have eye lids?” 

“Why do you know that?” Yotasuke asks. What would even be Yaguchi’s benefit to know about marine animals.  

“Mrs. Ooba tells us something like this every day, she likes marine animals.”  

Yotasuke turns his head to look ahead, trying to imagine this Ooba teacher. She must be quite the peculiar character.  

“Tell me a story about Fumi,” Yaguchi asks. 

Yotasuke didn’t expect this. He looks at Yaguchi. His face expression is gentle, looking back at Yotasuke. They smile at each other before Yotasuke starts talking.  

“Fumi is an appartement cat, that means she doesn’t go out, you know, hunting,  pigeons, mice...  none of that,” Yotasuke starts, “but she figured out there’s food in the kitchen. And she’d go there, climb the cupboards, literally climb them, pick up anything she saw on the counter – like tea bags or paper tissues – and she’d bring them to my room as an offering.” He smirks at the memory. He loves that cat, and the feeling is mutual. 

Yaguchi listens to him, smirking wider than before hearing the story. 

“It’s nice to hear you talk about her, Fumi,” Yaguchi says, keeping his eye contact with Yotasuke. “She seems to be a big part of your life.” 

Yotasuke doesn’t reply, instead he looks at the ground and nods.  

I bet she’d like you too...  

He ponders but doesn’t voice it. 

“Do your best tomorrow, Yotasuke-kun,” Yaguchi puts his hand over Yotasuke’s shoulder before standing up and leaving the train.  

I will... I will try.  

On the eighth floor of the fine arts faculty, Yotasuke receives the first envelope: Self Portrait. 

On the other side of the campus, another character silently waits for her name to be called up front. Ready to perform the Number 21 Piano Sonata. Waldstein.  

“Seeekaaai-kuuun,” Hashida catches up to him.  

“Hello, Hashida-san.” Yotasuke replies. 

“Yo, Yotasuke,” a third person joins them. “How was it?” 

“Do I know you?” Yotasuke ignore the question, uninterested to share any of his personal details with a complete stranger. 

The person looks at him, then at Hashida, confused.  

“You said he’s smart.” 

“Don’t doubt Sekai-kun's intellectual capabilities,” Hashida smiles at the other one.  

“You really don’t recognize  me ?” the person turns towards Yotasuke, trying one more time.  

Yotasuke holds back an eyeroll, instead he deadpans and says “No,” before moving forwards towards the train station. 

If not for the cold winter, our mysterious character would’ve undressed himself in a desperate attempt to prove his identity. 

“I’m not driving you home anymore!!” he shouts instead. 

Yotasuke turns around, frowning. And then... he remembers.  

“It’s okay because your car is the tightest place I’ve ever been,” he replies, “and I’m 163cm!!” Yotasuke adds, emphasizing on the actual size. 

Hashida laughs, being caught between their fight. The stranger becomes defeated, he looks at Hashida for help, but Hashida knows when Yotasuke wins an argument it’s game over. 

“Let’s go, Hashida,” he takes the taller boy’s hand and heads to the opposite direction than Yotasuke. Most likely towards his cramped car. 

“I’m home,” Yotasuke announces before removing his shoes. His mother comes to welcome him.  

“Hello, Yota, how was the exam?” she asks, not making any steps towards the boy.  

“It was okay,” he replies, he doesn’t bother with the details. He has peeked around the room at the other participants’ works.  

“Will you pass?”  

… 

Yotasuke ceases his movements.  

How do you expect me to know?   

“Yeah...” 

He ignores her and heads inside his room, closing the door and isolating himself from anyone outside.  

“Am I the only one, sensei?” Yotasuke asks, arriving at Tobi. 

“Two more,” the teacher says while watching the door, waiting for it to open. 

“Hola~,” Hashida appears. 

Followed by the silent Hanako Sakuraba. 

[ Yaguchi ] : congrats on your exam, Yotasuke-kun! 

[ Yaguchi ] : (ﾉ´ з `)ノ 

[ Yotasuke ] : Thank you, Yaguchi-san 

[ Yaguchi ] : Yuka also passed hers 

[ Yaguchi ] : when is the next one 

[ Yotasuke ] : in a week 

[ Yaguchi ] : that sounds stressful 

Yotasuke picks up the phone, not sure what he has going to say either... 

“Can we meet up?”  

“Thank you for agreeing to meet up on such short notice,” Yotasuke says.  

“Don’t worry, Yotasuke-kun, we’re friends, you can ask me anything,” Yaguchi replies. “Do you need more supplies?” he asks, looking at the art store in front of him.  

“Kind of,” Yotasuke didn’t necessarily need new supplies. He just wanted to go out of his room. To breath. And to see Yaguchi. 

“This place is huge...” Yaguchi absently notices.  

“Mhm. Let’s go upstairs, they have more oil painting stuff there,” Yotasuke offers.  

Opening its doors for the first time in 1940, the Sekaido art store is the biggest one around the Shinjuku area. It is five stories high, and you can stumble on both pros and amateurs there. Stocking over 100,000 products, the place always has sales. You name it, they have it.  

Yotasuke heads towards the oil paint tubes area with Yaguchi behind him. The latter was looking around, mesmerized by the huge variety of tools. 

“I didn’t even know there are so many things you need for painting,” Yaguchi says, looking at a horsehead statue, meant to be used as a reference for artists. 

“You don’t, actually,” Yotasuke replies, analyzing one shade closer. “You only need something to spread and something to paint on,” he continues.  

“People started with charcoal, decorating the caves-” 

“Oh, I know that one.” 

“You do?” 

“From cartoons,” Yaguchi jokes.  

Yotasuke looks at him, raising one eyebrow and smirking at his attempted joke.  

“It is said it started off as a form of religious spiritual, to evoke hunting success,” Yotasuke explains, putting the paint tube down to its right place. 

“A prayer...” 

“Excuse me?” Yotasuke asks, he didn’t hear what Yaguchi said. 

“It’s like a prayer, right? This is what my senpai used to say, art is a form of prayer,” Yaguchi explains.  

“Yes,” Yotasuke confirms smiling, he liked the way Yaguchi’s eyes spark every time someone validates him. 

“Around the same time frame people also started creating sculptures. Something called Venus Sculptures, depicting feminine bodies with overly exaggerated breasts.” Yotasuke chuckles, thinking about how these small statues look like. On the other hand, Yaguchi needs to look away at the word breasts. “Most likely for fertility reasons...” 

“In Japan, the first artistic period was the Jomon Period, with pottery and human sculptures.” Yotasuke moves to the next aisle, looking at the brushes. “There were slight paint decorations on these objects, but paintings as we know them today came hundreds of years later. First it was religious painting on temples, then paintings on handscrolls and only in the late Heian Period, the classical Japanese Painting Style, Yamato-e, was developed...”  

Yotasuke makes a break, picking up one brush and feeling the soft bristles. He gets an idea.  

He moves towards Yaguchi that was silent, listening to his Hashida style monologue about the history of the first art. He lifts the brush and runs it over the bridge of his nose, making the other one scrunch his nose.  

“Have you ever posed for someone, Yaguchi-san?” Yotasuke asks, putting the brush back to its place.  

“School photography,” Yaguchi replies, rubbing the place where the bristles tickled him.  

“Painting?”  

“Not really...” 

“Would you like to?” Yotasuke asks, moving forward towards the watercolor section.  

“Uhm...”  

“You’re really pretty so drawing you wouldn’t be too hard,” Yotasuke chuckles before picking up an artbook and flipping through it. 

Yaguchi doesn’t reply, stunned at Yotasuke’s directiveness.  

“Like this,” Yotasuke points at a nude anatomy study in the book. 

Yaguchi’s face turns red faster than he could process Yotasuke’s words.  

“Yotasukeee-kuun, stop teasing me,” Yaguchi whines, covering his face with his hands like a child, making Yotasuke laugh at his reaction.  

“I would though,” Yotasuke says, turning on his heels to face Yaguchi. “Figure painting is very useful for us, art students, we get to learn a lot. Da Vinci used to sketch a lot of bodies, and those drawings revolutionized the medicine.” 

Yaguchi removes his index fingers from his eyes to look at Yotasuke. He was heading towards another brush section.  

“I’m getting these,” he says, returning with two big and wide brushes.  

“I’ll think about it,” Yaguchi replies to Yotasuke’s question from earlier. 

“Don’t laugh,” Yaguchi says while removing his shirt. 

“There’s nothing funny about this, Yaguchi-san. Thank you for accepting it, I’m really grateful." Yotasuke replies while setting up his canvas.  

Yotasuke doesn’t want to stare around Yaguchi’s room for too long, afraid not to break any personal boundaries. However, one piece of paper sticked to the wall catches his attention. He keeps quiet about it, not sure if he was allowed to bring it up.  

“Okay, now choose a pose that’s comfortable for you,” Yotasuke tells Yaguchi.  

The latter didn’t remove his pants, as it would be too inappropriate for both of them, but he was wearing a pair of dance pants, the kind that covers your body like a second layer of skin. 

“Like this?” Yaguchi asks, only sitting on his floor, legs crossed and resting his hands in his lap.  

“Wait,” Yotasuke moves around Yaguchi, trying to find an angle he could work from. “Yep, that’s good.” 

He takes out the pencil case, searching for the appropriate pen to start sketching with. 

“How did you start dancing, Yaguchi-san?” Yotasuke asks, trying to create a comfortable environment for Yaguchi. He said he was used to people seeing his body but being in front of someone that was analyzing every detail, expressing it on the paper... it could be frightening even for the most confident people. 

“I don’t really know... I was always ‘performing’ for my family,” Yaguchi chuckles, thinking about the comparison he did. “It was more like an instinct, an inner wish that can’t be explained...” 

“I understand how it is,” Yotasuke says while staring at Yaguchi’s figure, trying to get an idea of where the anatomical structures lay. How the bones and muscles connect under the skin.  

“Yuka, we went to the same school, was taking piano classes in a ballet studio. And she was sharing the moves she saw the dancer do with the other girls at school. And... I don’t know... it evolved from there...” Yaguchi continues, trying to replay the memories inside his brain and make some sense out of them.   

“I started to get better and enroll for competitions, and eventually I got contacted by this school,” Yatora swallows, “and then middle school ended, and I had to convince mom to allow me to continue with it, because doing both – highschool and ballet – at the same time wasn’t a realistic option.” 

“Mhm,” Yotasuke hums, letting Yaguchi know he was still listening to him.  

“And, yeah... that’s it,” Yaguchi says, there wasn’t a lot to say about his dance journey.  

Yotasuke shifts his gaze to Yaguchi’s arms. There's the clavicle bone at the top of his shoulder, then some very light striations on the deltoid, and even a vein popping. His forearms and... the hands... 

“Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke lifts his eyes to look at Yaguchi’s face, “may I?” He lifts his hand, asking Yaguchi to allow him to analyze his.  

Yaguchi lifts it from his lap and lays into Yotasuke’s. The contact feels electrifying. Complete silence falls between them. 

Yotasuke picks at Yaguchi’s fingers. They aren’t as long as Yuka’s, he wouldn’t make a good pianist. He turns it, looking at the palmar side. The way the three lines were curving, too bad he doesn’t know how to read them. He moves his thumb over it, not feeling any prominent callouses. His hands are softer than Yotasuke has imagined. He continues to move his thumb over Yaguchi’s knuckles, observing the contrast between the bones and the space between his fingers.  

Would his fingers fit between Yatora’s?   

Instead of testing this theory he lets go of the other boy’s hand, resuming his sketch. 

“Thank you,” Yotasuke says, without looking at Yaguchi.  

“What about you, Yotasuke-kun? When did you start to draw?” Yaguchi asks, retracting his hand back to his lap.  

He feels slight tingles all over his hand. Yotasuke’s would fit perfectly between his.

But he is not sure what to do with that information. Yatora is not yet certain about how he sees Yotasuke. Does he like men or is only Yotasuke? There are still a few questions he should reflect upon on his own.

“Uhh...” if Yaguchi thought his dancing story was boring just wait for Yotasuke. “I really don’t know. I picked up pencils and copied what I’ve seen, really, there isn’t anything more to say.” 

“I see...” Yaguchi says, more like a whisper. The two sit in silence for a few moments, only scratched sailcloth filling the big gap. Yotasuke finishes with the hands before climbing to Yaguchi’s face. 

“Is everything alright?” Yotasuke asks, he didn’t want to make Yaguchi feel uncomfortable. If drawing him was an unpleasant experience for him then he was more than happy to give it up.   

“Yep,” Yaguchi pops his mouth. “I was just thinking...” 

“I’m here and I have two ears if you need to speak.”  

Yaguchi needs a moment before he gathers the energy to speak up.  

“I’m glad I met you...” 

Yotasuke stops drawing, lifting his eyes to check on Yaguchi. He was not looking back at him, busy with his floor design, but he was smiling.  

“I’m glad I met you too, Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke says before returning to the canvas. 

Geidai Second exam subject: Figure Painting. 

Yotasuke can’t contain his smile at the sight of the exam prompt.  

This exam is already as good as passed.  

In the end, Yotasuke has gifted the drawing to Yaguchi, he’d probably be more comfortable with it at his home than at Yotasuke’s anyway. It ended up being a waist up charcoal piece, Yaguchi himself being pleased with the final product. His eyes sparked when Yotasuke revealed the result.  

Those golden eyes really sparked for Yotasuke...  

“When are you getting the results?” his mother asks.  

“Tomorrow should be up,” Yotasuke replies, playing with Fumi’s fur to destress.  

“It’ll be alright, dear,” his mother tells him, noticing his distress.  

I hope so...  

He retreats to his room with the cat following him. He looks out of the window. The people across the street have their lights on. What’s their lives like? Do they also wait for important news?  

Yotasuke is forced to live his own life. 

But I bet those people don’t have Yaguchi in their lives...  

And so, our beloved Yotasuke finds himself in a train towards Ueno. 

He knows he can’t silence the thoughts inside his mind. Instead, he tries to ignore them. Loud music inside his headphone. Hands busy with the Switch console. Using multiple medias at the same time so no thought can catch his attention. 

But despite all of that he was still very aware of his surroundings. He was aware where he was heading to and why he was going there.  

Outside of the train station he sees the Tokyo Bunka Kaikan... the first he and Hashida visited together...  

That time, Yotasuke ended up disappointed he couldn’t see Yaguchi. Would Yotasuke end up disappointed today too? 

Hah...  

How the tables have turned around. Yotasuke wasn’t even aware of Yaguchi’s existence one year ago. And then he saw him, but he was just a stranger. A stranger for whom Yotasuke felt and indescribable feeling of attraction, a feeling of I’ll like this person a lot.  

A feeling he didn’t want to accept, out of convenience, thinking it was easier like that.  

Only to learn it was the opposite. He was silently struggling, without an apparent reason. Until Yaguchi had to leave for Osaka and then Yotasuke understood. He wanted to be around Yaguchi. To see him. To hear his voice.  

Accepting his feeling liberated himself from his imaginary chains. 

What if he likes you?...  

Yotasuke walks inside the University campus, preparing himself to see his hard work’s verdict.  

With every step he feels his knees softer. What if he trips down? What if he trips down and someone he knows sees it?  

Fuck you brain, seriously when did we start to care about being cool?  

He sees it. The big panel. The panel that contains his future. Despite being cold, Yotasuke removes his hands from his pockets, rubbing them together to keep his conscious mind busy.  

He lifts his eyes. Looking at the numbers. 55. 1000 people cut down to 300. And out of those 300 only 55 are on the panel in front of him. Is he one of them? Yotasuke knows he should focus and search for his own, but his anxiety doesn’t allow him to. 

He forces himself to do it, otherwise he’d just sit there, in the cold, for no reason. He looks at the right side. From the top to the bottom. It's not... there...  

His eyes move to the other side of the panel. If it’s not on the right, then it’s on the left. It should be on the left. Why isn’t it there?   

Panic starts to fill his body. What if he actually failed? How foolish of him to believe he’d get accepted right out of highschool... 

Yotasuke rubs his eyes, trying one more time to find his number. It's not on the left. Not on the right. Neither on top nor at bottom. 

Then it hits him...  

“Haaa...” he exhales, letting go of the tension inside him body. 

His number is there. Right in the middle. 

He's accepted.  

[ Yotasuke ] : I passed 

After completing the formalities, Yotasuke finally receives his ‘Geidai Passer’ bag. He owns a Geidai Passer bag. He is a Geidai Passer. He is an art student. At Geidai.  

Yotasuke was heading back to the train station, ready to return to Shinjuku and thank Matsuo-sensei for everything. For every time the teacher encouraged him when Yotasuke was yelling at him inside his mind. For everytime he considered the cram school to be a waste of time. For everything that lead him to be there today. At Ueno. With a Geidai Passer bag. 

He was so caught up in his mind that je didn’t realize how sloppy he was walking. He almost stumbled into someone. He was ready to excuse himself, it was most likely his fault... 

“...Yuka?”  

“Yotasuke?”  

The two stare at each other for a moment. They didn’t plan to meet with anyone that day. Because what if someone fails? Wouldn't that be embarrassing?  

But then their eyes fall on their hands. Geidai Passer. Geidai Passers. 

“AAAAHH!!”   

The two almost let go of their bags, too excited to learn that they have passed. 

“You did it!” Yuka exclaims, lifting her hands to her mouth, partially covering the huge smile over her face. 

“We did it!” Yotasuke corrects her. They hug, swinging from left to right before jumping around, ecstatic about the amazing news.  

“We’re Geidai students!” the two interlace arms, spinning around and attracting the attention of people around them. People that only came to the park for a little bit of silence. People that didn’t care about Geidai. However, the two were oblivious to any of this, squirming and screaming their happiness. 

“Party. At my place!” Yuka says, inviting Yotasuke over. 

“I need to visit my cram school first,” Yotasuke explains, “but I’ll join you as soon as possible!” he continues, before crossing the road, back to the train station. 

“Smile a little, Yotasuke-kun,” Matsuo asks Yotasuke. “This is for a banner.” 

“You look like you’re planing sensei’s murder,” Kudou adds, making fun of him.  

“Let’s go, Yotasuke,” she adds, ready to head towards Shibuya, for Yuka’s celebration.  

“Thank you, again, sensei,” Yotasuke says, before leaving the building. He won’t have to return to that place ever again. It's over. He’s a University student.  

There’s only two people accepted right out of highschool for painting at Geidai this year...  

Yotasuke pushes the door open, welcomed by the tune of a Korean idol song. The two step inside the living room, looking at the scene.  

Yuka, Kamiyama, Ogihara, Maki and Yatora dancing, copying the choreography on the TV screen.  

“They’re here,” someone screams behind Yotasuke, making him jump and everyone else ceases to dance and instead, the dancing group throw themselves at Yotasuke and Kudou in an attempted group hug. 

“You did it!!”  

“Congratulations!”  

“I’m going to cry!!”   

Seriously, how aren’t Yuka’s neighbors annoyed by the noise? 

Yotasuke feels his body crushed in the middle, next to Kudou. But he doesn’t complain, he’d like to have a place where he can let go of the bag though, it’s uncomfortable. Eventually they part, allowing the two future artists to breath freely. 

“Congratulations, baby!” Ogihara jumps on her girlfriend. She catches her and carries her to the coach. 

Someone puts his forearm around Yotasuke’s neck. 

“Congrats, Yotasuke!” he smirks, closing his eyes and showing his teeth.  

“Thanks...” Yotasuke says, contemplating this guy’s murder. “Who are you?” 

“Hashida, he’s DUMB!” the unknown looks at Hashida, done with Yotasuke’s ignorance.  

“I know who you are, cramped car, WHAT’S YOUR NAME FOR FUCK’S SAKE?! ” Yotasuke shouts, annoyed but the long-term confusion. This guy simply showed himself one day and expected Yotasuke to know his name.  

Kamiyama grasps and starts to wheeze, finally having a nickname for Hashida’s friend. Nicknames are funnier than real names. 

“Sekai, this is Murai Yakumo, you’re going to be classmates,” Hashida finally makes the introductions.  

‘You're going to’ not ‘we’re going to’?  

Yotasuke escapes Murai’s embrace and looks at Hashida, demanding him to explain. 

“Don’t worry Sekai, I’ll come to play from time to time.” 

“You better do!” Murai slaps Hashida’s ass, before going past Yotasuke and joining the other ones dancing. 

The fuck was that?  

Hashida goes to the kitchen, leaving Yotasuke behind. He looks around, there was still one more person looking at him expectedly.  

“Congratulations, Yotasuke-kun!” Yaguchi approaches Yotasuke, hugging him. Instead of pushing back, Yotasuke whispers a ‘thank you’ before griping Yaguchi’s back.  

“Let’s celebrate!” Yaguchi says upon breaking the hug.  

Yaguchi resumes his dancing. Damn, when was the last time Yotasuke saw him dance? It must be months ago... 

Yotasuke looks around the room. Ogihara and Kudou are making out on the armchair. Murai and Yuka are dancing, Yaguchi and Kamiyama. Maki sits on the coach, looking at them, and Hashida didn’t return from the kitchen yet. 

Yotasuke’s attention switches back to Kamiyama. Did she dye her hair blue? Normally she’s blonde... 

“Everything good, Maki?” Yotasuke sits next to her.  

“Mhm, congratulations, Yotasuke!” she reaches for him with her arm, giving him another hug.  

“Do you want something to drink?” Yotasuke offers. 

“I’m good, don’t worry,” she smiles, suddenly standing up when she hears the next song starting.  

And it seems like she and Hashida were mentally connected. He appears inside the room, going straight to her for the next dance, making weird steps while approaching her.  

Everyone was having a great time. Moving around and laughing. Yotasuke can’t even recognize the song, but he leaves his coach seat to join Yuka and Yaguchi for the dance. Despite being a dance student, Yaguchi doesn’t move like one, he’s messing around with his hands, spinning them, while wiggling his body. What even is this? It doesn’t matter, it looks like he has fun.  

And he really looks beautiful when he has fun. Yotasuke allows himself to get lost and party.  

The next song has a quick pace to it and weird instrumentals.  

“Hello everybody, my name is !@$#@$”   

What was that?  

“Me English nicht verstecht, let’s speak dance!”  

What??  

Yuka and Yaguchi seem to lose their mind when this song starts. The two make an ecstatic face at each other, turning towards the TV and lifting their hands in the air. Yotasuke looks at the TV too, trying to understand this song. 

“What the hell is she wearing?!” Yotasuke asks, completely stunned at the sight.  

Seiben seiben, ai lyu-lyu  

On the screen there is a woman dressed in a peculiar sparkly costume, with a huge star on top of her head.  

Seiben seiben  

“Eins Zwei!!” Yuka and Yatora scream at the same time as the singer, having synchronized movements. 

Seiben seiben, ai lyu-lyu  

Now that Yotasuke looks at the screen, it’s not just the woman that is dressed weirdly. 

“Eins Zwei Drei!” Yuka and Yaguchi continue the sing along, doing the only part they can pronounce.  

Danzig!  

The whole scene is weird as fuck. Yotasuke is lost between what is happening on the screen and what is in front of him. 

Why the sparkly costumes? Why the weird choreography? What is happening? 

Seiben seiben, ai lyu-lyu   

Seiben seiben  

“Eins Zwei!” Yaguchi and Yuka jump at the same time, hitting their thighs in the process. 

Seiben seiben, ai lyu-lyu   

“Come on Yotasuke!” Yaguchi says, grabbing his hands and forcing him to move them just like the dancers on the screen.  

“Eins Zwei Drei! ” 

Danzig!  

Okay, Yotasuke thinks he understood what’s happening.  

I want to see: ahaa  

What? The lyrics changed?  

Yotasuke continues to stare at the screen. Thankfully the dance is easy and doesn’t require a lot of complicated moves he couldn’t do. 

That woman has a 69 printed on her back?! How more chaotic can this performance become?  

Needless to say, Yotasuke is overly confused by this song, but also completely amused, moving his body to the tune.  

Nay lay lay lay lalalalalala  

Nay lay lay lay lalalalalala  

Okay, hit the end  

The song ends, with a pose just as peculiar as the entire... thing... 

The dance was quite exhausting, he needs a moment to rest, and understand what the hell just happened. Yotasuke’s face is distorted in a confused smirk. His eyebrows are raised and his eyes wide. He looks at the others, dancing on the next song, completely unaffected by the previous song. 

What a crowd of weirdos, Yotasuke laughs alone. 

Yuka comes to sit next to him, while Yaguchi plays the next song. 

Yo, listen up here's a story about a little guy that lives in a blue world, and all day, and all night, and everything he sees is just blue, like him inside and outside. Blue his house, with a blue little window, and a blue corvette and everything is blue for him, and himself and everybody around cause he ain't got nobody to listen to …  

Why would Yaguchi even listen to this? It's just some guy’s depressing monologue... 

The song makes a break, where the instrumental starts to play and then the tune bursts, making Yotasuke understand why Yaguchi chose it. His movements are really sloppy when he’s off stage...  

I'm blue 
Da ba dee da ba di 
Da ba dee da ba di 

“Where are Hashida and Murai?” Yotasuke asks, noticing their absence. 

“Making out somewhere,” Yuka replies while Kamiyama comes to take her hand to resume dancing. 

Yotasuke looks at Yaguchi, engrossed into his funny dancing, then he processes the information... 

“THEY WHAT?!”  

I thought he was dating Maki...  

Later, Yaguchi finally runs out of energy and falls into the couch next to Yotasuke. The disco music didn’t cease, and the others were still moving.  

“Can you believe it, Yotasuke-kun? You’re an art student!” Yaguchi says while resting his head on top of the back pillows, looking at the ceiling while breathing. The periodic movements of his chest, inhaling and exhaling, hypnotize Yotasuke. 

“About that, I found out there’s a ballet piece about a Degas sculpture,” Yaguchi stands up, smiling at Yotasuke, ready to provide details.  

Yotasuke stretches his arms, resting the left one on the top of the back pillows, behind Yaguchi. 

“Mhm? Tell me more...” Yotasuke demands, looking back at Yaguchi with a lazy smile.  

“It’s about the life of the little girl, she was a dancer for the Paris Opera!”  

Yotasuke listen intently to Yaguchi’s monologue about what he could find out on the internet about the little girl and any other detail concerning Degas. Like how he sculpted her, he was very interested in expressing facial characteristics to mimic the personality ones, or when he first exposed the sculpture, receiving lots of bad reviews and choosing to never show it ever again...  

His cheeks are flushed red from the dancing and the speed he was spewing the words. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes were sparkling, having someone to listen to him. Yotasuke looks at his eyes, then his lips and back at his eyes, not missing any word Yaguchi was saying.  

What if it’s good?   

It must be good.  

Yaguchi makes the mistake to look at Yotasuke’s lips for a split second. He lifts his eyes, looking around the room for something to focus on instead. However, he returns to Yotasuke’s face. 

“God, you’re so adorable...” Yotasuke huffs, resting his head on top of his stretched arm and staring at Yaguchi through hooded eyes. 

What...?  Yaguchi doesn’t have the chance to ask.  

“Yatora, can I kiss you?” 

Did he hear it correctly? 

Yatora’s face freezes. He tries to process the question. He looks at Yotasuke, trying to understand the meaning of this, then at the floor. He doesn’t even blink anymore. 

Yatora doesn’t say anything, instead he finds himself slowly nodding, lifting his eyes off the ground, towards Yotasuke.

His uncertainty about everything he was questioning for the past month suddenly vanish. But not completely, he knows there are still questions deep inside his brain, but somehow, in this moment, they seem less significant, almost muted. So, he ignores them, and acts as his body guides itself.

Yotasuke lifts his right hand, sweeping it over Yaguchi’s jaw and tilting the dancer’s head. He lowers his eyes, focusing on the other one’s mouth, lifting his head.  

Yatora doesn’t realize it, but his body also moves, lowering his head to meet Yotasuke’s lips. His hands move to cup Yotasuke’s cheeks, caressing his face. 

The kiss is gentle and slow. Too afraid to break anything they have built for the past months. Was this kiss even the right idea? Their lips press against each other, trying to convey what they couldn’t verbally share, all the hidden feelings that weren’t addressed earlier. 

Then the two pull away, slowly keeping eye contact.  

“No no no no no, NO, NO SEX IN MY ROOM!” Yuka screams from the hallway, running towards her room.  

The two turn their heads to see who Yuka was yelling at, laughing then they see Murai and Hashida trying to sneak into her room.  

“Come on, he’s 18 now! How about your parents’ room?” Yotasuke hears Murai before bursting into laughter, holding onto Yaguchi for support. 

The two look at each other once again, going in for a second round. 

A ballet dancer and an art student. How pretentious.  

But maybe pretentious isn’t that bad.  

Chapter Text

“What does this make us?”

…  

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”  

…  

“Yes... I do...”  

With the news of the passed exam came the key to his own place.  

“What?” Yotasuke asks, not believing his ears. 

“It’s in Taito, close to the Ueno Park, more precisely,” his father explains.  

Yotasuke looks at the key on the table. He's... moving out? All alone? 

He stands up, ready to hug his parents. 

The place isn’t exactly an apartment, it’s more like a student room. But it’s not like Yotasuke would need more space.  

As soon as you enter you can see the kitchen area on the left side of the hallway. A few steps later you enter in the main room. A big square where a folding sofa sits next to a brick wall. On the same wall you can see empty shelves, waiting to be filled with Yotasuke’s belongings, and on each side of the sofa there is a nightstand. 

On the wall facing the sofa, there is a big TV screen and a desk – he’s a University student, of course he needs one. At least he can play video games.  

The wall in between, facing the hallway, has a big window, covered by burgundy curtains. They look like the stage curtains somehow. And the last wall, the one next to the kitchen area, has a door that leads to a personal bathroom.  

Yaguchi whistles, looking around. “This place is huge if you consider how students live alone.”  

“Mhm,” Yotasuke agrees, drawing the curtain to look outside. The view isn’t anything special, just the average Tokyo scenery, but it’s big enough to give lots of sunlight. Fumi likes sunlight.   

“It’ll take forever to bring here everything I own,” Yotasuke says, sitting on the sofa. “My father is too busy with work to drive me here.” 

“I could help you,” Yaguchi says, sitting next to Yotasuke and stretching his arm behind his boyfriend’s shoulders, bringing him close. 

“How so?” Yotasuke asks, resting his head on Yaguchi’s chest.  

“I recently passed my driver’s license-” 

Yotasuke stands up, eyes wide open starring at Yaguchi.  

“Why didn’t you mention it? Congratulations!” Yotasuke hugs him. 

“I didn’t want it to crash with your University admission news,” Yaguchi reasons, trying to act humble. He was working on his driving license for a few months already. That, the Center exam, the dancing, the social life, Yaguchi must be a god of time management. 

“You silly,” Yotasuke says while covering Yatora’s jaw in kisses, trying to contain his smile.  

He moves for Yaguchi’s lips, giving him a long peck. Just a light brush of their lips. It's still pretty intimate without being too sensual, and Yotasuke isn’t rushing, he tries to keep the pace adequate for Yatora.  

A few days since Yuka’s party have passed, the two would see each other in the morning and the evening. Yotasuke would wake up at the same time as usual, 6:45AM, get dressed, eat breakfast and leave. He doesn’t have any more classes. Neither at school nor Tobi. Yet he was leaving his house as if he was going to school. In reality this was his chance to see Yaguchi, that didn’t have the luxury of not going to school, even if it was supposed to be spring break for average students. And just like that, Yotasuke would return every evening, to pick Yaguchi up from his dance classes.  

Their official relationship didn’t change a lot. Maybe just the kissing. And hanging out more often. And texting a lot more. Ok, it did change a lot. They weren’t acting as distant anymore, and this is a big thing. Especially for Yotasuke. Who would’ve thought Yotasuke can be so clingy? 

“By the way, what does your father work to afford this place?”  

“Finances for the Fujiwara.” 

… 

“WHAT?!” Yaguchi almost chokes.  

“Good evening, Yotasuke,” Yaguchi says upon seeing his boyfriend’s silhouette crunched forward, busy with his hands. 

“Good evening, Yatora,” Yotasuke replies, closing his Switch console and standing up from his seat in the lobby. “How was practice?” he asks while hugging the taller boy.  

Yaguchi exhales. “Long, tiring,” he says while rubbing his face with his hands, dragging his lower eyelids, making his face look funny. “But it’s okay, I get to improve a lot too. We have a performance at the end of April, so I need to work hard.” 

 “I see,” Yotasuke says, looking at Yaguchi. “You smell nice by the way,” he adds. Yaguchi’s shower gel scent isn’t the kind of one that makes his nose sting with the strong spice, instead it’s soft, almost like a girl’s.  

“Do you mind?” Yaguchi asks while taking out a pack of cigarettes.  

“You won’t smell nice anymore, but go on,” Yotasuke shrugs. He isn’t a smoker himself, but he isn’t necessarily against it either. Everyone can choose for themselves.  

“What about you, Yotasuke, how was your day?” Yaguchi asks, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. He tries to interlace his pinky with Yotasuke’s. But Yotasuke simply grabs his hand, without any fear, interlacing their hands.  

“I leveled up on Pokémon,” Yotasuke replies, crossing the street towards the Hatsudai station.  

“You play Pokémon a lot,” Yaguchi notices. 

“Mhm, I also spent time with Fumi and then I come to pick you up,” Yotasuke explains further. Now that he was accepted into Geidai, he didn’t want to continue painting every day with no end. A break is a good thing. And he deserves it.  

Unlike him, Yaguchi was constantly busy with practice. He finished his school year too, no more nutrition or music classes, at least for the time being. But that doesn’t mean he can just not show up for three weeks to the dance studio, he still needs to keep his body flexible. 

“Tomorrow is my day off, do you want to do something?” Yaguchi asks, waiting in front of the train station to finish his cigarette before entering.  

Yotasuke sits on a road pillar, waiting for Yaguchi. What could he and Yaguchi do?  

“Yatora, have you ever been to the Ueno Zoo?” he stands up, ready to head down, inside the station, after Yaguchi throws his stump in the trash bin.  

“Uhm...,” Yaguchi tries to recall, “yeah, like a few years ago.” 

“How about ‘have you ever been to the Ueno Zoo with me?’ then,” Yotasuke asks, trying to be more obvious since Yaguchi is completely blind. 

Yaguchi chuckles. “No.” 

“Of course not,” Yotasuke says, it was a rhetoric question. “Then it’s set.” Yaguchi doesn’t object to the proposition, silently agreeing on Yotasuke’s decision.  

The two step inside the train, trying to find an empty place. Damn the rush hour, there is barely any space left inside the wagon, let alone seats.   

Because of his height, Yotasuke can’t really hold into the straphanger without standing in an uncomfortable position. Good thing he has a tall boyfriend now. Around whom he can encircle his arms for support. The contact is intimate, but the train is too busy for anyone to notice.  

He tries to lower his hands around Yaguchi’s waist, but his body contracts.  Okay, not yet.  Yotasuke replaces his hands higher, allowing Yatora his personal space. It's only fair, Yotasuke wouldn’t like someone to break his personal space so why would he force Yaguchi into something he isn’t comfortable with yet? 

Yotasuke leans his head onto Yaguchi’s chest. Why is acting like he is the tired one? You only gamed and played with your cat, Yotasuke.   

Yaguchi lifts his hand and supports Yotasuke’s head from behind, keeping him close. The two do not share any words, a mutual feeling of calmness installs itself between the two. 

“My stop is next,” Yaguchi whispers in  Yotasuke’s ear, himself disappointed that they can’t spend more time together.  

“Mhm,” Yotasuke lifts his head to look at Yaguchi, “see you tomorrow, then. Take care.” 

Yotasuke looks around, a few seats have been vacated. He looks at Yaguchi one more time, lifting his arm and tapping his cheek before Yatora could leave. Yatora scrunches his nose while smiling before turning and leaving the wagon.  

Yotasuke goes to sit in one of the empty chairs. Yatora is his boyfriend. As in, Yatora really reciprocated. And it wasn’t as troublesome as he thought it would be. He can just send Yatora a text message telling him they’re boyfriends and Yatora would confirm. Crazy.  

Stupid Yaguchi.  

More like stupid Yotasuke.   

“Good morning, Yotasuke.” 

“Good morning, Yatora.”  

“Slept well?” Yaguchi asks, sitting on the place Yotasuke saved up for him.  

“The server was filled with hackers,” Yotasuke starts, resting his head on Yaguchi’s shoulder. “Why can’t people be honest, it’s so annoying.”  

“I don’t know, maybe it’s easier this way,” Yaguchi replies. He isn’t a gamer himself, so he doesn’t understand the frustration that comes with losing to a cheater.  

“It is, that’s the problem, it’s unfair.” 

Yaguchi takes Yotasuke’s hand in an attempted way to comfort his boyfriend.  

“What about you, Yatora?”  

“Mhm, went to sleep early,” and I was also thinking about you and smiling and I’m so glad you’re my boyfriend, but I won’t say this because it’s embarrassing.   

“Old hag,” Yotasuke jokes before lifting his head to caress Yatora’s face. “Classical music, early bedtime, what else?” 

“Hmm, let me think... Sometimes I like my food soft.”  

Yotasuke looks askance at Yaguchi. “We’ll need to buy you a life assurance, grandma.” 

Yaguchi huffs and looks away, rising one eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you treat your elders with respect?” 

“Sorry ma’am.” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Yaguchi says, turning his head back towards Yotasuke. “You’re a baby.” 

“Are we already jumping to pet names?” Yotasuke asks, knowing very well this is not what Yaguchi meant. And the other one’s reaction is worth it.  

Yaguchi’s eyes widen for a moment, before looking at the floor. Yotasuke laughs and ruffles his hair. He tucks Yaguchi’s hair after his ear, revealing his earrings.  

“Gold fits you,” Yotasuke says upon analyzing Yaguchi’s helix. “When did you get them?” 

“I don’t know, a few years ago, I guess...”  

“Damn, and here I was, thinking you need to be 18...” 

“You still need parental approval,” Yaguchi says. Yotasuke takes a moment to imagine the possibility of asking his mother for a piercing as an underage child. Maybe she didn’t react as bad as he thought she would when he got his earrings, but you never know. Parents are confusing.  

“No.”  

“Ok,” whatever I knew you wouldn’t allow me to do what I want as if it’s your body, but I know it’s useless to tell you this because this won’t change your mind.  

“You must be really comfortable with your parents,” Yotasuke concludes, trying to shift his attention back to the boy whose hand he was holding than his mother. “I don’t think mine would’ve accepted, that’s why I waited until I was 18.” 

“Parents can be... complicated,” Yaguchi agrees. Yotasuke rests his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, analyzing his profile. Too bad Yatora isn’t comfortable with public kissing, he would like to do that now. But Yatora’s boundaries are more important.  

“We have to change here,” Yaguchi says, looking at the station’s name from the window across his seat. The Akihabara is only two stations away from Ueno, but the walking distance is too significant for them to consider it. It was a day off for Yaguchi after all, and Yotasuke isn’t very keen on being a walker.  

Yaguchi shyly tries to catch Yotasuke’s hand while walking through the train station, the other one simply goes for it. He isn’t as shy about it as Yaguchi. 

“Good thing you don’t have to take this route every day,” Yaguchi notices, “it would be very tiring.” 

“Yes, I’m really glad about it.” 

“When are you moving in?” 

“I don’t know, when University starts, I guess,” Yotasuke thinks about the possibility to move out of his family home earlier but that would mean he has to cook and do groceries and take care of the entire place himself. Not yet. “Besides, I still need to bring my stuff.” 

“About that, when do you want me to come and help?”  Yaguchi asks as they step into the next train for Ueno. 

“Whenever you want and have the time,” Yotasuke says, holding onto a bar.  

“The day after tomorrow we’ll have shorter practice, I think I can make it.” 

“Okay,” Yotasuke lifts his head towards Yaguchi and casts him a smile, tightening his hold on Yaguchi’s hand. As a form of thank you for being so nice.  

The two arrive at the park. Passing next the Tokyo Bunka Kaikan hall, walking on the central trail towards the main gate for the Zoo, in the east side of the park.  

The Ueno Zoo is the oldest Zoo in Japan. Founded in 1882, it is divided into two areas, the East Garden and the West Garden and it is home for over 400 different species. 

Japanese animals  

Yotasuke knees down, looking at the little Leopard Cat. It is just like a leopard, but cat sized. 

“Amazing , they created pocket size leopards.” 

Yaguchi is lost into the little Shima Enaga birds, they look just like snow puffs.  

Giant Panda bears  

“How are they not extinct yet?” Yaguchi asks, laughing at the way the baby Panda bears were rolling around. 

Bird house  

“Hey there, hello,” Yaguchi talks in a baby voice with the bird. 

“Yatora, please stop, they are owls, not parrots,” Yotasuke says, himself amused by the scene.   

Elephants, monkeys, bisons.  

“He looks like he could break my head,” Yaguchi says while eyeing the big and grey animal. 

“He most likely could do that,” Yotasuke agrees. 

“He looks polite though, so I doubt he’ll do it.”  

On the background, the monkeys start laughing. 

Gorillas  

Yaguchi hits his chest, trying to copy the stereotypical Gorilla action. The animals already seem done with him. 

Tigers  

“Yaguchi-san, what’s your favorite animal?”  

“Tigers.”  

Yotasuke exhales before chuckling, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose. 

“Sorry, there’s nothing wrong with tigers, it’s just…” he removes the hand from his jacket, the one Yaguchi wasn’t holding, motioning towards him“… your name is… Yatora.” He finishes the sentence, still amused by the coincidence. 

Yaguchi doesn’t immediately reply, it’s not the first time this happened. 

“You kind of look like a tiger too. A white Bengal tiger.” Yotasuke stuffs his hand back into his jacket, so it doesn’t get cold and stiff. He is still smiling, amused at the connection.  

Yaguchi is just a big cat. But Yotasuke, you’re a cat lover.  

The two continue their walk in silence, making their way to the West side of the garden. Sometimes Yaguchi would impersonate an animal in the most stereotypical way, making both the animal and Yotasuke cringe at his action. How is his acting so bad when he is a ballet dancer? 

“Wooaah, what’s this? It looks like a capybara,” Yaguchi kneels down next to the peculiar animal, trying to analyze it closer. 

The small mammal has ashy fur, skinny and long legs that look like the ones of a miniature deer, a skull shaped like a horse’s and short ears spiked up. 

“It’s a rabbit,” Yotasuke says from behind, admiring the animal. 

“Huh? But it looks nothing like a rabbit…” Yaguchi replies, looking around and trying to find the name plate to test Yotasuke’s affirmation. 

“It’s a Patagonian Mara,” Yotasuke continues, giving Yaguchi the exact name of the breed. “They’re rodents from Argentina,” he adds as a matter of fact. 

Yaguchi’s eyes find the plate and confirm exactly what Yotasuke said. 

“Wow, how did you know it?” Yaguchi asks, still crouching next to the fence. 

“We used to have rabbits at my middle school,” he says, continuing the walk to the next animal. 

Bats  

“Did you know that bats have…” the highest rate of homosexuality, that’s why Vampires are so gay, Yaguchi puts his hand over his mouth. “Ehm, nothing,” he excuses himself. That’s something Hashida told him, be he isn’t sure if Yotasuke would find it as funny as he did. 

Yotasuke eyes him weirdly, annoyed that he couldn’t hear the end of what Yaguchi was about to say.  

Flamingos  

Snap. 

“You like flamingos, Yaguchi-san?” Yotasuke asks while rubbing his hands together to warm them up. He was walking around holding hands with Yaguchi for most of the time, while the other one was deep inside the pocket, but they started to stiffen up due to the cold.  

“I think they have pretty colors... Like the ones from a ballerina tutu,” he says, while turning towards Yotasuke. He notices the action and takes his boyfriend’s hands, putting them inside his jacket. 

“Better?”  

“I can’t walk like this.” 

Penguins  

“Kowalski, analysis,” Yaguchi takes out his phone and imitates the viral meme. 

This makes Yotasuke laugh. Yaguchi can be really silly sometimes.  

“Have you watched Madagascar, Yotasuke-kun?” 

“Yep, it’s my favorite childhood movie.”  

They were nearing the end of the visit, passing next to the children section of the Zoo. A place with domestic animals. Yotasuke stops. He takes out a B6 sketchbook from his jacket’s inner pocket and starts sketching. Yaguchi comes next to him and looks at the animal Yotasuke was drawing. 

A rabbit.  

“Did you know the biggest rabbits are the Flemish Giants? They can get as big as a dog,” Yotasuke says without breaking his eyes off the drawing paper, only feeling Yatora’s curious stare.

“Yotasuke-kun, are rabbits your favorite animals?” he asks. Yotasuke didn’t stop for any of the previous exotic animals, but he did for rabbits. Besides, he knew the Patagonian one. So maybe bunnies are a special animal for him. 

“My favorite animal is Fumi, Yaguchi-san,” Yotasuke neutrally replies, still focused on his sketch, making it sound like an already known fact.  

“My boyfriend loved bunnies, he had a rabbit pet,” Yotasuke finishes his sketch and puts the notebook back into his jacket. 

Boyfriend?  

He then walks next to the horses, taking an apple and giving it to the animal. This was the children side of the Zoo, where they could play with farm animals.  

“I love animals in general, bunnies are just another species for me,” he says while caressing the horse. “When I was in middle school, our English teacher recommended us Black Beauty,” Yotasuke continues, retracting his arms and holding them behind back, admiring the horses running around. 

“It’s a children story from a horse’s point of view, explaining his life, how there are good horse owners and bad ones,” he gives the animals one last glance before stepping towards the exit, “it made me more empathic towards animals, after reading it I’ve put myself in every animal’s place, trying to understand them...” 

“Even though, the horses get so traumatized they start to wish for death, so I don’t think it’s that much of a children story after all,” Yotasuke laughs, stepping ahead of Yaguchi through the Benten Gate.  

He was still thinking about what Yotasuke said. He had a boyfriend... 

The two continue their walk through the Ueno Park. It is a gigantic green space for Tokyo, with lots of shrines and cherry blossoms.   

“The cherry blossoms are beautiful this year, isn’t that right, Yotasuke?” Yaguchi asks, looking at the beautiful pink flowers.  

Yotasuke snickers. “Sorry, it’s just...” he throws his hand around, trying to find the words, “Hashida says the same thing.” 

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Yaguchi asks, taking his phone out, ready to take a picture. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t really see it,” Yotasuke says, looking at the flowers himself, trying to give them one more chance to prove their beauty for Yaguchi’s sake.  

Yaguchi lifts his arm, trying to capture Yotasuke inside the selfie. Yotasuke turns away, putting his hoodie on and covering his face, but gives in and takes a picture with his boyfriend for his sake.   

Yaguchi winks at the camera, holding a peace sign next to his closed eye, and Yotasuke just stands there, trying to appear neutral instead of angry. It's not a very cute picture but Yaguchi seems satisfied with it.  

“My place?” Yotasuke asks, being already tired with the walk.  

“It feels empty,” Yaguchi says while removing his shoes.  

“It’ll be better when I start living here.” Yotasuke removes his jacket and goes to lay on the sofa.  

Yaguchi follows, sitting next to him. Yotasuke takes the chance to lay his head in Yaguchi's lap. The two sit in silence, looking around the room while Yatora plays with Yotasuke’s hair.  

“This is boring,” Yotasuke says, sitting up and kissing Yaguchi.  

“Tell me about it,” Yaguchi asks, cuddling next to Yotasuke. 

“About what?” Yotasuke asks, not understanding what Yatora meant.  

“Your boyfriend.” 

Ah.  

“Well, we were 12 so I don’t know how much the boyfriend term actually fits him,” Yotasuke starts, trying to remember the details. “We went to the same middle school, and... I don’t know, he was always taking care of the bunnies, and – just like I told you – I wasn’t good with people, and I was also spending time taking care of them,” he continues, concentrating on the memory. 

“Eventually we got closer and started ‘dating’...” 

“Is he the one you kissed?” 

“What?”  

“I remember at Halloween, everyone has kissed at least one person of the same gender besides me,” Yaguchi reminds Yotasuke about the game. 

“Ah, yeah, eventually we went to different highschools and now he just started med school,” Yotasuke finishes the story. “We were just kids hiding away to spend time together and kiss, don’t all kids do that?” Yotasuke asks, turning his head towards Yaguchi. 

Instead of replying, Yaguchi stays deep in thought. 

“You’re... gay, right? I’m not forcing myself on you?” Yotasuke asks, suddenly afraid he was making a mistake.  

“No, I mean yes, I mean... I like you, but I’m not gay,” Yaguchi starts, stumbling with his words and making Yotasuke’s fear rise. “I’m bisexual, but I wasn’t aware of it for long...” he explains, allowing Yotasuke to relax.  

“Oh...” Yotasuke says, “I get it now.” 

“Get what?” 

“Why you’re so... inhibited... it isn’t easy to come to terms with your sexuality...”  

“No, it isn’t...” Yaguchi agrees, “thank you for understanding.” Yaguchi says while swiping his hand under Yotasuke’s ear, tilting his head and closing the space in between the two, kissing his upper lip.  

“Let’s play some music,” Yaguchi says, standing up and going to the TV. “May I?” he asks, taking out his phone, asking for allowance to connect it to the TV.  

Yotasuke motions him that he can do whatever he wants.  

The tune starts to run. It's a conversation between a woman and a man. Yaguchi starts to move, predicting the lines. 

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? 
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? 

Yaguchi swings his shoulders, pointing his index at Yotasuke on the ‘cha’ part and wiping his hand on his body on the ‘like me?’. 

Don't cha? 
Don't cha? 

He bends forward, folding his body and lifting it back to the initial pose, keeping eye contact with Yotasuke. 

“You’re not that shy anymore,” Yotasuke notices, looking at Yaguchi’s foolish dance.  

“Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?” Yaguchi asks, stepping closer to Yotasuke.  

I don’t even want a girlfriend but okay.  

“Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?” Yaguchi takes Yotasuke’s hand, forcing him to stand up and join him. 

“Oh no no no, I’m not dancing,” he says trying to break the bond, but not with enough willingness to shake Yaguchi away. 

“Don't cha?” Yaguchi bends forward to Yotasuke’s eye level.  

Yotasuke gives in and accepts Yaguchi’s dance invitation, swinging his body to the rhythm. Fooling inside the single room, away from the eyes of the strangers. 

Yaguchi puts his hands around Yotasuke’s waist, lowering his head to kiss Yotasuke, undulating his body to the song. 

“Why do you listen to music like this?” Yotasuke asks, towards the end of the song.  

“Oh, sorry, I’ll choose a song you’ll like next,” Yaguchi says, having a mischievous undertone to his voice. 

What?  

The song starts. 

Cookies, cookies, cookies, nyam 

Yotasuke takes a moment to understand what Yaguchi meant.  

Beethoven's in the mother fucking house, baby!  

Oh. Oh no! 

I'm gonna whip you into shape, I'm gonna whip you into … shape!  

Oh no no no no 

“You bastard!” Yotasuke says, pushing away from Yaguchi. 

Yaguchi on the other hand was laughing-singing the lyrics. 

“How aren’t you so shy anymore, asshole?” Yotasuke asks, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. Yaguchi really saved this cursed song. 

“You’re the one that was listening to it,” Yaguchi laughs while the song plays, continuing to dance on it. 

Sex for homework, rolling on a mattress, 

I think you need a little fucking practice, 

Sex for homework, sitting in detention,   

There’s just a few things that I would like to mention.  

“I’m home!” Yotasuke says, removing his shoes. Fumi comes running for him, rolling over and then attacking his legs with her claws. 

Yaguchi grasps. “It’s her!” he says, looking at how Yotasuke lifts the cap from the floor. “She’s real! In flesh, here!” he keeps his attention on Fumi, as if it’s the only thing in the room. 

“Hello, Yota... Ara? You brought home someone?” his mother stops midway through the sentence after noticing Yaguchi. 

“Yep, he’s a friend helping me with the moving,” he says while heading to his room. 

Friend?  

“Does your friend want snacks?” she asks, analyzing the two with her eyes. Yotasuke looks at Yaguchi, trying to find an answer.  

“He’s good, we’re just packing some boxes, he’s not staying for long,” he replies upon seeing Yaguchi’s lack of reaction.  

“You want to hold her?” Yotasuke asks. Yaguchi was still looking at the cat.  

“Can I?” Yatora asks as if it was the biggest blessing he could receive. Yotasuke passes the cat to Yaguchi. At first Fumi seems to dislike it and she attempts to scratch him. 

“No no no, Fumi, no!” Yotasuke commands the cat. Yaguchi can’t get scratched, it could interfere with his auditions and performances. What if he misses on a role because of a red mark? Yotasuke it’s not that deep.  

Eventually the cat calms down and falls asleep in Yaguchi’s embrace, purring. Yatora looks down at her with sparkling eyes. He is already more charmed by the cat than his own boyfriend.  

“Woah!” Yatora lifts his eyes to look around at Yotasuke’s room. “I’m in Yotasuke-kun's room and I’m holding his cat, is this a dream?”  

“The fuck? Weirdo,” Yotasuke stops packing to make a face at Yaguchi’s cheesiness.  

“I’m your weirdo,” Yatora walks towards Yotasuke, kissing him on the cheek from behind.  

Yotasuke sticks his tongue out and points his index to his mouth, telling Yaguchi to shut up. He better give up on the cringy acting and help him to pack. Yatora doesn’t want to, but he lets go of Fumi on the floor and joins Yotasuke.  

“You read Dostoevsky?” Yaguchi asks, picking up the book from the self.  

“Mhm, it used to be my favorite author,” Yotasuke confirms absently. 

“Why?” Yaguchi asks with a freaked-out face. 

“What do you mean?” Yotasuke stops his movements to look at Yaguchi. “Ah, I get it,” he laughs.  

“Dostoevsky isn’t for everyone,” he says, ruffling Yaguchi’s hair.  

“I used to read it too, it took me a couple of months per book, and I still don’t understand what he wanted to say,” Yaguchi explains his shock. “Really freaky.” 

“Mhm,” Yotasuke returns to picking up the stuff. “Take this to the car,” he says, giving Yatora a box and his easel. “Be careful with the easel,” he adds.  

Yatora leaves the door, following Yotasuke’s order.  

“Such a gentle boy to help you with this,” his mother appears once again in the hallway.  

“Mhm,” Yotasuke hums, closing the door after Yaguchi. 

“Where do you know his from?”  

“He’s a ballet dancer,” he adds, returning to his room and continue packing not hearing his mother grasps upon hearing it. 

Yotasuke continues to pack his art supplies, he’ll need them more at the studio than his parents’ home. He still has some old stuff he needs to fetch from the basement too. 

Where is Yaguchi? He should’ve returned already. 

Yotasuke goes out of his room to put the box next to the door, so Yaguchi doesn’t have to come to his room to fetch it.  

“This is Yotasuke’s first day of school,” he hears his mother.  

Oh no. No.  

“And this is Yotasuke at dance classes,” his looks at the open living room door, seeing his mother showing Yaguchi pictures of his childhood.  

“Mooooooom!” Yotasuke penetrates the room, embarrassed already.  

“I was just showing Yaguchi some pictures, it’s so nice to see you have a friend,” his mother explains, acting innocently. 

In front of him there is a big collection of old pictures spread out. How much did his mother revealed? He looks at the photos and sees one with Fumi as a kitten, he picks it up and takes Yaguchi’s wrist, urging him to leave.  

“We’re still busy mom,” he says, pushing Yaguchi out of the living room into the hallway.  

“Take this,” Yotasuke lifts the box from earlier, passing it to Yatora, not wasting a moment to talk over what just happened.  

Yaguchi doesn’t take as much time as before for this box. Yotasuke hands him his printer, sending him to the car one last time. He puts his clothes in another box and looks around, trying to think if he forgot anything.  

“Let’s go,” he says, picking the last box himself.  

“I still have some things in the basement,” he says after adding the said box inside Yaguchi’s car. “Come,” he urges Yatora to follow him instead of waiting outside.  

His basement is filled with all sorts of stuff, from old things to junk that doesn’t have space in his apartment, but it’s still useful from time to time, and of course, his entire art career is stocked up there.  

Yaguchi looks around, mesmerized by the variety of canvases. Most of them were pushed next to a wall, along with the sketchbooks.  

“Is that...?” he asks, upon seeing something to catch his attention. Yotasuke looks at the thing he was pointing at, 

“This is a ballet dancer, right?” Yaguchi asks, kneeling down next to the painting. It was one of those artworks he did during his secret obsession with Yaguchi.  

Geh. 

“Yeah,” Yotasuke tries to act cool without getting embarrassed again. Yatora continues to look around his paintings.  

“May I?” he says, picking one sketchbook, asking if he was allowed to look through it.  

“Go on,” Yotasuke says before leaving to look for the things he came down for.  

Yatora looks at the dancing figures in Yotasuke’s sketch. Yotasuke doesn’t seem to be very keen on ballet, yet he has all these drawings about ballet.  

Yaguchi you’re very dense.   

He lets go of the sketchbook, leaving in the same place he found it, and looks at another piece that seems to captivate him. In the meanwhile, Yotasuke returns with his belongings. 

“You like it?” he asks, upon seeing Yaguchi engrossed in the piece he hates.  

“Mhm, it has this, how do I describe it? This aura...” he turns his head towards Yotasuke to explain it to him, “It’s warm. I don’t know art, please don’t judge me.” 

Yotasuke huffs, amused by his sincerity. He goes next to Yaguchi to kiss him on the cheek. “Then you can keep it,” he says, inches away from Yaguchi. 

“What? Is this okay?” 

“It will sit here and catch dust anyway, if you like it, you can have it,” Yotasuke says, climbing the stairs to leave the basement.  

It's that painting. The one he was struggling with last year. The one he tried to pour his entire essence into. One person’s trash really can be another person’s treasure in the end. 

“Okay, now that this is done, I’m only left with the unpacking, putting everything in its right place and cleaning,” Yotasuke says upon bringing his belongings inside the studio. He sighs. “That’s too tiring, I’ll do it later, or tomorrow, it’s already late,” he says, before throwing himself on the sofa.  

Yaguchi stands in the middle of the room, unsure about what he should do. Yotasuke taps the place next to him, inviting Yaguchi to sit. 

“Come here,” he says, putting his hands behind Yaguchi’s head, bringing him into a kiss. “You’re,” kiss, “the,” kiss, “best,” kiss, “boyfriend.” He finishes his sentence with one longer peck. 

“Is something wrong?” Yotasuke asks, seeing the boy in front of him being so disconnected. 

“I was thinking,” Yaguchi starts, not making eye contact with Yotasuke. “We’re in a relationship, that means boyfriends, right?” he asks, avoiding Yotasuke’s eyes. 

“Yes…? You weren’t aware of it?” Yotasuke asks, not sure why Yaguchi wanted to talk about this since they made it clear a few times already. 

“Then,” Yaguchi makes a break, trying to figure out how to voice what was concerning him. “Your mother… you said we’re friends,” he spits it out, immediately regretting the way he was saying it. 

“Oh,” Yotasuke separates himself from Yaguchi, falling on the sofa deep in thought. 

“You’re not out to her… right?” Yaguchi asks, unsure if he was using the right words for this matter.  

Instead of replying verbally, Yotasuke shakes his head slowly. “Did you already tell your mother?”  

“Not that I was dating someone, but I talked with her about liking boys,” Yaguchi says, looking straight ahead. 

“And?” 

“She’s supportive, she said she knew,” Yaguchi says, grinning a little, thinking about the conversation he had with his family. Coming out to your family and being accepted in a very relieving experience.  

“I’m glad…” Yotasuke says, himself smiling a little about the information. “But not every family is like that…”  

“I don’t mean that she’s against it, to be honest I don’t even know,” Yotasuke says, himself avoiding eye contact now. “I accepted my sexuality long time ago, and I don’t need anyone’s opinion,” he says, looking at the floor. He should buy a small table to place it there. 

“I see…” Yaguchi says, turning his head towards Yotasuke and griping his chin, bringing him closer for a forehead kiss. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you into it.” 

Yotasuke cups Yaguchi’s face, kissing him. 

“Thank you again,” Yotasuke says, walking his boyfriend to the car, before he returns to the studio and continues his unpacking. 

“See you next time,” Yaguchi hugs him before entering the car and pulling out into the driving lane. 

Somewhere around the building entry, a girl was looking at the two. Yotasuke turns on his heels, partly because he didn’t have any other reasons to stay outside after Yaguchi left, partly because he felt the eyes of this said person on him. 

She smiles at him, but Yotasuke ignores her with a poker face, trying not to frown so obviously. He passes right next to her, entering the building and heading inside his room. 

Chapter Text

“Go on, Fumi-chan,” Yotasuke says, opening her cage, allowing the cat to wander around the room and discover it. 

“She’s shy,” Yaguchi says, looking at her making hesitant steps, not sure where to start or if it was alright for her to even walk around. It isn’t her usual home after all. 

“It’s a good thing we brought her cat tree, she’ll be more comfortable,” Yotasuke says, sitting next to Yaguchi and looking at the cat trying to get used to the new space. Fumi was, well, the family’s cat, but she was more like... his cat. His parents adopted her for him, so bringing her to his new place isn’t unexpectable.  

“How do you feel about tomorrow? First day of University can be a big deal,” Yaguchi says while resting his head on Yotasuke’s shoulder.  

He doesn’t reply instantly, he tries to imagine how could the day pass. First day of University can be nerve wrecking. All the unknown. A new life stage you need to pass. A lot happen during University years. People change. You get hurt. You learn. An introduction to the adulthood, but with more time to learn how to process your feelings.  

“Mom said she wanted to come with me,” Yotasuke finally says putting his arm around Yaguchi’s shoulders. Hugging him and brushing his lips over his forehead.  

“And?” Yaguchi asks, waiting for the answer, enjoying Yotasuke’s tenderness.  

“I’m not 10 anymore, I don’t want to go to University with ‘mommy’,” Yotasuke explains, grimacing at the idea. “Don’t call me rude,” Yotasuke says, feeling a little guilty for his attitude towards his mother. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Yatora assures him, moving him hands up and down on Yotasuke’s back. He lifts his head off Yotasuke’s shoulder to kiss him. He has gotten a little more confident over the past week, being a little more forceful too. 

“Come with us,” he adds, “let’s do a Hanami, you can meet my friends. After your ceremonies and my classes, of course,” he finishes, looking straight into Yotasuke’s eyes.  

Hanami? Meeting your friends?  

“How many friends do you have?” Yotasuke asks, a little freaked out about Yaguchi’s social life. How many people did he knew? And how can he balance them all so smoothly? 

Until now he was exposed to people like Murai and Yuka and Kamiyama because of him. Could these people be like them too?  

In response, Yatora laughs, lifting himself off Yotasuke and falling back on the extended sofa. Fumi takes the opportunity to jump in his lap.  

“They’re good people,” Yatora explains, petting the cat absently. “Besides, you already know Utashima.” 

“How is he doing by the way?” Yotasuke’s back falls down on the bed too, turning his head to look at Yaguchi. “Not going to lie, I miss his coffee.” 

Yaguchi laughs once again, thinking about how they used to go to the place where Utashima worked during the last summer. If it wasn’t for those moments maybe he wouldn’t be there next to Yotasuke today. It was just another thing that allowed them to enforce their bond.  

“He actually works as a barista-” 

“I need to visit his workplace as soon as possible.” 

“-it’s a date then.” 

“Yep.” 

“You’ll also like Koi and Sumida,” Yaguchi turns on his side to look at Yotasuke.  

“Let’s say I trust you then, until tomorrow, when I get to have my own opinion.” 

“So, you’re coming?”  

Yotasuke takes a moment to think about it once again, looking at the ceiling before he turns on his side to face Yaguchi, supporting his head with the elbow.  

“Yes.”  

He shifts in his bed, getting closer to Yaguchi to kiss him. Brushing his lips over the other one’s 

“Oi, Yotasuke!” Yotasuke recognizes this voice. He does  not  like this voice. 

Don’t react. Act like you didn’t hear him. Move forward. One step in front of the other. Straight ahead.  

“Oi!” the other one puts his arm around his shoulders. He really should stop doing that, it’s annoying.  

“What do you want, Murai?” Yotasuke asks, praying it’s just a nightmare and the smell he senses isn’t Murai’s cologne. 

“Is this how you greet me,  amigo ?” Murai gets way too close to Yotasuke for the latter's own comfort. Why is he speaking Spanish?  

Yotasuke tries to free himself from his grasp, getting to a safe distance.  

“Olaaa~!” how many people can speak Spanish on this campus. At least this person isn’t as troublesome, well it is but he is okay with that. “How are youuu Yotasuuukeee?” Yuka asks, getting close to the two.  

She and Murai hug each other, allowing Yotasuke to liberate himself, making a few steps ahead, not willing to run. Running might catch the attention of other people. Attention is troublesome.  

“Hey, hey, where are you running?” the two put their hands on his shoulders, keeping him captive. “You didn’t miss me, Yotasuke?” Yuka puts her index finger over her lower lip, making puppy eyes.  

“Ugh...” he sighs, “of course I missed you,” he says, finally giving in and hugging her.  

“Not fair,” Murai breathes under his breath. 

Yotasuke didn’t see Yuka ever since the two got accepted into Geidai two weeks ago. He didn’t think he missed her until he saw her today. She's exactly the kind of person Yotasuke thought he’d never get along, yet here they are. At least he was right about Murai. 

“Let’ go,” Yuka says, interlacing her arm with Yotasuke’s and gripping Murai’s shirt hem. 

“Where?” Yotasuke asks, not sure if he should frown at Yuka or Murai, it was his fault after all that he was pulled into this. If it wasn’t him, he would be walking around the campus, trying to discover it. Or do something else. Something that didn’t include this many people 

“Lunch,” she explains, walking straight ahead.  

“Buenos dias!!”  

Seriously, why is everyone speaking Spanish out of the blue?  

Kudou was approaching them, holding a heavy pile of book. “Can I tag along?”  

“We were looking for you, actually,” Murai says, happy he had someone to talk with. Someone that wouldn’t want to rip themselves from his embrace and run at 15km per hour – for obvious reasons. 

“What did you think about the entrance ceremony?” Yuka asks, smirking at the thought of the shirtless teacher.  

“It was pretty cool,” Yotasuke says, pressing his lips into a thin line. Why did he have to be pulled up into this? Maybe running earlier would’ve been a better option.  

“So, you two are classmates,” Kudou says, slurping her noodles.  

Yotasuke doesn’t feel very warm about it, but yes, he is classmates with Murai.  If Hashida was bad, then you aren’t ready for Murai, Yotasuke-kun.  

“Yotasuke passed on his first try, what about you, Murai?” Yuka points her chopsticks at Yakumo in a threatening way, squinting her eyes and smirking at the situation she was putting him in.  

“It’s a secret,” he says, turning his head away, annoyed this had to be brought up.  

“Ooh is that so?” she presses him more, trying to corner him. 

“I’m immortal, so it doesn’t really matter,” he side eyes her.  

“We got an Ajin,” Yuka says, sitting on her place. “We have to inform the ministry, we could get good money.” 

“What?” Murai asks, not understanding the reference.  

“Eat you noodles, dumbass,” she says, taking a mouthful of her soup, giving up on the matter. If he can’t understand such an obvious reference, then he doesn’t deserve her attention.  

Kudou was looking at the two, not sure how to react, slightly amused by their bickering. And Yotasuke, well, he was contemplating his surroundings. What was the best route to leave this place as soon as possible, and  unnoticed ? 

“Too bad Hashida-san isn’t here with us today,” Kudou turns her head towards Yotasuke, giving up on trying to understand the other two.  

Yotasuke doesn’t reply verbally. But he knows he misses Hashida too. He looks at his reflection in the bowl, imagining his Tobi days with him, Maki and Yatora.  

“You’re paying!” Murai points at Yuka. 

“What?!” 

“You brought me here!” Murai explains, “I’m broke.” 

“Being a ronin for all this time without getting any money, tch,” Yuka rolls her eyes before getting her wallet. “Is that a new tattoo?” She asks, unbuttoning Murai’s shirt to reveal the new small bird silhouette on his chest. 

Of course Yotasuke couldn’t get a breather. After lunch, he had to bring Murai with him for the department meeting.  

During the reunion he realized that he is also the youngest among the students. That's a little overwhelming. But it’s very probable that the highschool situation – where he didn’t actually talk with the people around him – will repeat, so it’s not a big deal if the people around him aren’t around his age. 

Eventually Murai found other people to hang around, and left Yotasuke alone. By the way, what’s that assistant’s problem? His face looks like he is pissed 98% of the time. Can’t judge him though, relatable. 

“I’m home!” he says, knowing very well he doesn’t have to announce it anymore. Fumi runs towards the entrance, ready to welcome him.  

Her bowl is empty, so Yotasuke goes to fill it before removing his clothes and resting. He wasn’t hungry yet, lunch wasn’t very long time ago. He will eat before leaving to meet Yaguchi. But until then he still has a few hours to waste around. Maybe he should think about what classes he should enroll. Or maybe not. Gaming seems more attractive right now.  

Yotasuke goes to lay on his ‘bed’, well, sofa, but he left it unfolded, so it’s a bed. It's no use to fold it if he was going to unfold it every night, so he leaves it extended. The boy doesn’t plan on having people over anyway, besides Yatora. Yatora is welcome anytime. 

He takes his Switch console out, ready to play a game when someone knocks on his door. Yotasuke ignores it, as mentioned before, he didn’t expect anyone, and he wasn’t very keen on having guests over.  

There’s a second knock. Yotasuke keeps on ignoring it, trying his best not to make any sounds while logging into a Pokémon server. And gladly, there isn’t a third knock.  

“People are troublesome,” he says under his breath. Fumi jumps next to him, cuddling, ready to fall asleep with a full tummy. “At least you’re not ‘people’,” Yotasuke directs it at the cat, petting her head.  

“Good evening, Yotasuke,” Yatora greets his boyfriend that was waiting for him in the theater lobby.  

“Good evening, Yato-” Yotasuke doesn’t finish his sentence. Is Yatora wearing glasses? Damn, he looks good...  

“Everything good, Yotasuke?” Yatora asks, taking Yotasuke’s hand and advancing towards the exit.  

“Yeah...” he says, unsure about how much he meant it. “You wear glasses?” he asks, as if it wasn’t already physically obvious Yaguchi was wearing them over his nose.  

“Oh?” Yatora turns his head towards Yotasuke, surprised by the question. Did you forget you were wearing glasses, Yatora?   

“Yeah, usually I wear lenses, but I slept through my alarms and didn’t get the time for it this morning,” he explains, waiting in front of the streetlight.  

Yotasuke continues to stare at his boyfriend. Why are the green frames intriguing him like this? It’s like this is the first time he saw Yatora. But it isn’t.  

“They fit you a lot,” he manages to say, trying to break the entrance. But it only gets worse when Yaguchi turns his head, smiling and thanking him for the compliment.  

Fuck fuck fuck  

“Uhm... where are we heading to?” Yotasuke tries to change the subject, more for himself than Yaguchi. He wasn’t aware he had a thing for glasses.  

“Yoyogi,” Yaguchi sings, oblivious to Yotasuke’s mental battle. “My friends are already there,” he adds, entering the train. The two find two empty seats one next to the other and occupy them. 

“It feels weird.” Yaguchi unconsciously runs his thumb over Yotasuke’s hand. “Being a last year, I mean. Like, this time next year we’re going to be professionals. And there isn’t anyone else older we could go to ask for advice or something, we still have teachers, of course, but it’s... different.” 

Yotasuke listens to his boyfriend talking, unsure what words to use to help him. He isn’t very good with words, and he knows it.  

“If it helps you, I’m the youngest in my department, and the only person I know is... Murai,” Yotasuke tries to contribute to the conversation, holding back his hostility towards the latter.  

Yaguchi notices it and starts laughing. “Yeah, Yakumo can be... overwhelming.” He puts his arm around Yotasuke’s shoulders, pulling him closer. At this point Yotasuke started to consider Yaguchi was doing it just to tease him since he wouldn’t kiss him in public. 

“How do you feel about it? Being a senior?” Yotasuke asks, trying to help Yaguchi process it. Unprocessed emotions can only lead to destruction. He knows it from his own experience. 

“I don’t know... it’s kind of scary to be honest. It only means we’re growing, but I don’t feel like I’ve grown enough to become professional so soon,” he monologues, trying to lift the weight off his heart. His hand wanders over Yotasuke’s neck and face, playing with his hair.  

“I really like your dancing, Yatora,” Yotasuke confesses, frustrated he couldn’t say something more meaningful to make Yatora understand that he really means it.  

He loves Yatora’s dancing. It's so absorbing. Like an actual piece of art that no illustration could do it justice. No matter the medium. No photograph can depict his movements and no painting can express his emotion. 

“Thank you,” Yaguchi smiles, caressing Yotasuke’s face. “I promise I’ll get better, though.”  

You’re already perfect to me, Yatora.   

The two leave the Yoyogi-koen train station heading towards the center of the park, where the Cherry Garden is located. An alley filled with numerous Cherry Blossoms. And just as expected, the place is very crowded. The Japanese really love these trees, huh.   

The two are walking shoulder to shoulder, resting one hand on the other’s back. Yaguchi was looking around at the beautiful flowers. Yotasuke was looking at the beautiful boy next to him. 

“Yatoraaaa!!” even Yotasuke can recognize this voice.  

“Yo!” Yaguchi lifts his arm, showcasing a huge smile for his friends.  

“You brought Yotasuke!” Utashima stands ups, ready to hug his friend. He attempts to hug Yotasuke too, but the latter withdraws. He might know Utashima, but that doesn’t mean he is okay with the barista to invade his personal space.  

“Hello,” he says, looking around at the other two boys on the blanket. There is a blonde one, maybe a little taller than him, and the other one...  What the hell? He's huge!  He must be even taller than Hashida. But why don’t they have eyebrows? 

“This is my boyfriend, Yotasuke,” Yaguchi introduces him in front of his friends.  Boyfriend. Yes, we’re boyfriends.   

“You already know Utashima,” Yaguchi continues the introductions. Utashima lifts his hand up, forming a finger heart for Yotasuke. I response, Yotasuke only smiles politely. 

“And these are Koi” the tall one, “and Sumida,” the shorter one.  

“Hello, Yotasuke-kun,” Koi greets him. Yotasuke nods, not sure if he should repeat himself with the ‘hello’. 

“Koi is a pastry apprentice, and he feeds the stray cats!” Yatora says, hoping this would help Yotasuke interact with his friend.  

“I hope you know sugary things aren’t good for cats,” Yotasuke says as a matter of fact, concerned about the safety of those cats. He sits between Koi and Yaguchi. “Cats are carnivores, and they can’t have a lot of carbs in their diet since they do not have the enzymes to digest them.” Okay sir, no need to go this deep with the biochemistry.  

“No-no,” Koi laughs, ignoring Yotasuke’s monologue in a respectful way, “I don’t want to harm Shishamo and Mezashi.” 

“You gave them names?!” Yotasuke asks, not believing his ears. He already likes Koi.  

“Sumida also feeds them from time to time,” Koi adds, inviting the other one to join the conversation. 

As Yaguchi was looking at his friends getting along with Yotasuke right off the bat, a feeling of uneasiness passes him. It took him multiple months to get close to Yotasuke, but for his Koi and Sumida it only took a couple of minutes and a few cat mentions. Unfair.  

Yotasuke can be so complicated sometimes.  

“Hey, Yatora,” Utashima gives him his cigarette, inviting him to share it. Oblivious to Yatora’s internal battle, just wanting to be more intimate with his friend. Yaguchi takes it, trying to destress with each puff.  

“Do you drink, Yotasuke-kun?” Sumida asks, getting ready to pour him some sake as part of the Hanami experience.  

“No, I’m good,” he refuses. He wasn’t very keen on the alcohol. After all it only tastes weird and gives you a headache and embarrassing memories, if you get to remember them. “But you can go ahead,” he assures the rest of the group that he is okay with them drinking, not like they were waiting for his approval.  

As the time passed, the sunlight started to falter, being replaced by the park lamps around the alleys and the Sakura trees. Yotasuke looks around, the lights really make the cherry blossoms look pretty. He smirks at the idea. Sakura trees, pretty. Maybe someday he could see their whole beauty and understand their meaning.  

The people around were leaving the park. Tired children were sleeping on their parents shoulders. Dog owners were walking around, giving their companions the needed exercise. The groups sitting around and celebrating the cherry flowers were leaving in waves.  

Hump.   

Yaguchi falls on his shoulder, too lazy to maintain his posture.  

No matter the reason, Yotasuke puts his arm around his shoulders, giving his boyfriend some support. He rubs his hand around his shoulder, trying to warm him up. It was only April, he could still get sick and that could be troublesome for his performances. Yaguchi should be more careful, he has a habit of being too negligent with himself. 

“We should get going,” Utashima says, knowing the park is closed during the night. “Are you tagging along for Shibuya, Yatora?” 

“Can’t do,” Yatora manages to say. He was almost falling asleep on Yotasuke thanks to his higher body temperature.  

Despite being small, Yotasuke manages to lift his boyfriend off the ground. Apparently, he was just too lazy, with just a slight tint of tipsy.  

“Another time,” Yatora says, getting ready to leave.  

“Another time~!” his friends say, as the two make their way back the train station.  

Yotasuke turns his head and lifts his hand, saying his usual farewells in his silent way. He grabs Yaguchi’s hand, leading him through the same alleys as earlier, back to the Yoyogi-Koen station.  

“Can I walk you home?” Yaguchi says, laying on Yotasuke’s shoulder.  

“Okay,” he replies shortly, leading Yaguchi inside the train towards Ueno.   

In the meantime, during the ride, Yaguchi seems to have sobered up a little, maybe it was the nap he took on Yotasuke’s body. 

In front of Yotasuke’s door, Yatora crashes their lips one more time for the night. Yotasuke doesn’t push him away, instead he pulls Yatora closer. He presses his thumb around the corner of his mouth, forcing the dancer to open his mouth and give Yotasuke access to it. He wraps his hands around Yatora’s shoulders, forcing him to sink down to his level. 

“Easy, easy,” Yotasuke pulls away from the kiss, “I still want to breath,” he jokes about Yaguchi’s bad kissing skills. This was their first open mouth kiss after all, but the joke didn’t seem to affect Yaguchi. Yatora’s flustered face, and those glasses... 

He pulls Yatora into another kiss, less heated and more genuine.  

“I really don’t want to leave,” Yatora whispers, being very aware of the late hour. 

“Then don’t,” Yotasuke replies, looking into Yaguchi’s eyes.  

The two slowly pull away. Yaguchi didn’t answer Yotasuke’s proposition, and it looks like he is still processing it, slight fear covers his eyes.  

“Yatora, I’m not going to eat you,” Yotasuke starts, seeing Yaguchi’s repressed body language. “You can sleep over and go to class tomorrow,” Yotasuke explains, trying to come off serious but not severe. 

“...okay,” Yaguchi agrees, afraid to face Yotasuke, preferring the floor. Hoewever, he was also considering the option of staying over, and his answer isn’t influenced by Yotasuke’s comment.

“Here,” Yotasuke throws some sleeping clothes to him. He was still wearing his dance bag, but Yotasuke doubts Yaguchi would like to sleep in his dancing clothes, aren’t they sweaty? 

“You can go on and shower first,” Yotasuke opens the door to the bathroom, allowing Yaguchi some intimacy. The latter stops in the doorway, giving Yotasuke one more kiss before heading inside.  

“May I have a pair of socks?” Yaguchi asks.  

“You’re a freak that sleeps with socks on?” Yotasuke asks, rising one eyebrow. 

Yatora deadpans, not wanting to explain to his boyfriend he needs to keep his feet warm all the time.  

Yotasuke, he’s a ballet dancer.  

In the meanwhile, Fumi was watching everything from her bed on the other side of the room.  

“Not a word,” Yotasuke says, while fetching clothes for himself.  

“Did you say anything?” Yaguchi talks over the running water. Yotasuke smirks, not bothering to reply to his silly question.  

“Wha-” Yotasuke starts laughing. Well, half laughing, half crying.  

He knew he was short but seeing his clothes on Yatora was both cute and painful. His baggy sweatpants were barely reaching Yatora’s ankles. His t-shirt was sitting very tight over his shoulders, bringing out his athletic shape.  

During the time he was in the shower, Yaguchi was playing with Fumi, making her run after the teaser. Yotasuke smiles at the image. The two are getting along so well.  

“You done?” Yaguchi asks, noticing Yotasuke’s presence in the room. 

“Mhm, let’s head to sleep, it’s already late” he replies, getting ready to turn off the lights. The two get into the bed, ready to fall asleep. Yotasuke closes his eyes, waiting for the trance to submerge him.  

… 

“Yotasuke… can I hold you?” Yaguchi asks, whispering, afraid to break the silence, or to voice this thought aloud. 

“You silly,” Yotasuke shifts in his bed with his eyes half closed. He turns towards Yaguchi and envelopes his legs around his waist, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around the other one’s back.  

“Good night,” Yotasuke kisses his cheek before returning to his sleep waiting state. Yaguchi doesn’t reply, but tightens his hold on Yotasuke, falling asleep instantly. Despite being uninvited, Fumi jumps on the bed, joining their cuddle. 

Yotasuke’s eyes flutter awake, trying to make out his surroundings. Damn the morning blurriness. He feels a hand over his forehead, tugging away one hair strand that was covering his face. He lifts his eyes, still not understanding what is happening. 

“Good morning,” Yatora greets him. 

“Why are you looking at me?” 

“You look very peaceful when you’re asleep,” Yatora replies, supporting his head on the elbow. “It would be a shame to miss it out.”  

“Besides, I’m blind as fuck so I can’t get the chance to notice it from the distance.” 

“Why are you awake before me?” Yotasuke asks, trying to stand up on his elbows. He searches for his phone, trying to find what time it was. 7AM. His internal clock isn’t that messed up. 

“You’re not very friendly when you wake up,” Yaguchi notices, standing up to kiss Yotasuke’s forehead.  

“Slept well?” Yotasuke asks, trying to brush off the fatigue and act nice towards his boyfriend. Who would even like to be greeted like that from the very first moment in the morning? Come on brain, be a little nice to him, he’s your boyfriend.  

“Mhm,” he says, hugging Yotasuke one more time before standing up and stretching his arms wide, he does occupy a lot of space with that figure. “It was really nice to feel you.” 

Yaguchi you really have a weird way of wording phrases.   

“You’re already leaving?” Yotasuke asks, still sitting in his bed. He tries his best to hold back the grimace from Yaguchi’s statement.  

“Yes,” Yaguchi replies, not very happy about it either. “I need to get home before going to class,” he says, continuing to stretch his body, touching not his feet but the floor. How is he so flexible right out of bed? 

“I see,” Yotasuke says, trying to stand up too, heading inside the bathroom to brush his teeth. In the meanwhile, Yaguchi takes the chance to change his clothes, leaving Yotasuke’s folded on the little table Yotasuke got. 

“Come over afterwards, I don’t have classes yet,” he says back inside the room.  

“Will do,” he drags his dance bag over his shoulder.  

“Not even breakfast?” Yotasuke insists one more time.  

“I’m afraid not, I’ll eat at home,” he says, trying to put on his shoes.  

Yotasuke lifts his body on his toes, trying to reach for Yaguchi and kiss him before he leaves.  

“No no no no, you stay inside,” Yotasuke catches the cat that was trying to escape through the door and follow Yaguchi.  

He doesn’t like cooking. Good thing seed bread exists. Seed bread and Pokémon, the recipe for a good lazy day.  

Bump  

But of course, Fumi wouldn’t give him a break. She just collapsed the cat tree. 

Yotasuke sighs, he loves this cat. But sometimes he considers it to be too troublesome. 

“Come here, angel.” 

“What are you doing?” Yaguchi asks hours later, looking over Yotasuke’s shoulder into his computer. 

“Choosing classes I will take this year,” Yotasuke replies, focused on the screen. “PE is still mandatory, it’s like saying we wouldn’t exercise otherwise...” he adds with a tint of annoyance.  

“Are you athletic, Yotasuke?” Yatora asks, still gazing at Yotasuke’s screen and his classes. 

“Do I seem athletic, Yatora?” Yotasuke replies with a rhetoric question, annoyed by Yaguchi’s ignorance.  

“You never know!” he says, missing Yotasuke’s cheek and kissing his earlobe instead. “Besides you took dance classes!” 

“Don’t remind me,” Yotasuke huffs, getting secondhand embarrassment from the memory. 

“Why are you taking molecular biology?” Yaguchi asks, changing the subject just like Yotasuke wants. Why would an art student take a class that’s useless for them? Will Yotasuke ever use those pieces of information about the human genome? 

“I learned that our personality can be shaped by the modifications on the chromatin, it’s called Epigenetic. But I need to pass this class before I can take Epigenetic, it’s a prerequisite,” Yotasuke replies, filling his classes choice. He will submit it in a week, when the portal is open. 

“That means you’re going back to having classes?” Yaguchi asks, shifting his attention to Fumi.  

“Mhm, tomorrow we have an introduction for the art course with the teachers,” Yotasuke closes the University tab, switching it for pictures of his paintings. “Apparently, we have 5 minutes to introduce ourselves with a few pieces of art we did.”  

Yotasuke continues to switch between the picture, trying to find something he could use. He knows his paintings are good. But why does he have to show them in front of the whole class? What’s the point? He doesn’t want their approval. 

“I don’t know what to use,” he feels beaten. He thought he had a lot of paintings stocked up, but in reality, it looked like he knew by heart every single one and couldn’t decide anymore if he likes it or not.  

“Why don’t you use the one you gave me,” Yaguchi offers, knowing he likes Yotasuke’s school painting.  

“You think it’s good?” Yotasuke turns to face Yaguchi. The dance energetically nods, making Yotasuke fall deep in thought. “I don’t even have a picture of it.” 

“I can send you one when I’m at home.” 

“Please don’t make it blurry.”  

Chapter Text

How did I end up here?  

“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,” the two sing along, knowing the lyrics by heart.  

“Make it last forever,” Yuka sings out loud. 

“Friendship never ends,” Yaguchi makes one big heart in the air with his fingers, trying to hit the high notes with his masculine voice. 

Yuka was playing a piano cover of the song, singing the lyrics with Yaguchi that was dancing. How is he moving so energetically when the piano can’t even translate the real song’s speed? It’s not like it’s a bad cover but… it’s piano…  

Despite his boyfriend being in the same room with him and jumping around, doing his little silly dance on the piano tune, Yotasuke was more interested in the petite girl sitting on the coach. Kamiyama was focused on sewing her shoes. Pointe shoes wear out very easily and as a ballet dancer you need to sew a new pair every moment when you’re not busy with something else. 

“I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.” 
“So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.” 
“I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah.”  

Yaguchi tries to twerk, shaking his ass to the song rhythm. 

“Blondie, stop moving your fatass around. You’re distracting me, and I don’t want to hurt my fingers with the needle,” she complains, focused on her work on the shoe. Yaguchi conforms, ceasing his movements and sitting next to Yuka, throwing his hands in the air to replace the dance. 

“May I try?” Yotasuke asks, curious about the sewing. 

Kamiyama’s hands stop for a moment, and she lifts her eyes, looking at him with an annoyed face. “No. You don’t know my measurements and I don’t want to waste my pointe on you,” she says, returning to her work. 

Bruh, ok  

“You men are so spoiled for not having to sew your shoes every single moment of the day,” she huffs, jealous about Yaguchi’s free time activities. 

“Wait, men don’t wear pointe?” Yotasuke asks confused. He wasn’t aware of this piece of information.  

This makes Kamiyama stop her sewing to, once again, look at him with an irked expression.  

“I can’t believe Yaguchi really said you’re smart,” she huffs, more annoyed than before, “even Haruka-kun confirmed it.”  

In the background, both Yuka and Yaguchi start laughing about Yotasuke’s genuine question. He crosses his hands over his chest, bringing his knees closer and sulking.  

“Stop being mean to him, Fuu-chan,” Yaguchi intervenes. He knows Yotasuke isn’t the kind of person to get offended this easily but still, he was human. 

“By the way, where is Maki?” Yuka asks, ceasing her piano playing.  

“At the studio, I assume,” Kamiyama replies before Yaguchi.  

“She has barely hanged out with us lately,” Yuka says, saddened about her friend’s absence from their lives. Everyone loves Maki because she’s fun to have around and she has amazing music taste. 

“She’s working very hard for the audition,” Yaguchi explains. Their audition results for the first performance are in just a few days. But the teachers barely consider the auditions, they choose based on the progress they make during class. 

Coppélia  

“We should do something for her birthday,” Yaguchi proposes, “is your place available, Yuka?”  

“Can’t do, sorry, my parents are back from the travel,” she explains. Her parents were also musicians, working away during the holiday season. This is why Yuka was able to hold all those parties.  

“We could ask Hashida-san,” Yotasuke proposes, taking his eyes off Kamiyama’s busy hands. She takes one box cutter and starts to remove the middle part of the shoe, breaking it.  

“Hashida?” Yaguchi asks, he didn’t consider the possibility. 

“They’re close friends, Maki and him, and his house is pretty big,” Yotasuke explains, trembling when Kamiyama starts to hit her shoes on the floor, beating the sound out of them. The noise is loud, good thing this is a soundproof room and Yuka’s neighbors can’t hear it as easily. Yaguchi stands up from his place next to Yuka on the piano chair to put his arms around Yotasuke, protecting him from the loud sounds. 

“Hashida, huh,” Yuka says, silently pondering the option. The first time they met, Hashida tried to get her phone number. Ever since he was a cool guy. Maybe a little weird. Is his house also weird? 

“Ryuji, we’re leaving,” Yuka’s mother enters the room. “See you later,” she says before closing the door, Yuka only nods in acknowledgement. 

Ryuji? 

Yotasuke looks at Yuka, trying to understand the obvious. However, he doesn’t ask anything, for the time being. 

Yuka returns to the piano, hitting the notes. 

“We should talk with Hashida then.” 

“Craaazy!” Yaguchi stands up from his place next to Yotasuke to resume his earlier activities of singing and dancing to Kamiyama’s displease.  

“Baby, I’m so into you…”  

“What do you want to eat?” Yotasuke asks, leaving Yuka’s apartment building and heading back to his own place. 

“Whatever is fine,” Yaguchi replies, tomorrow it was his day off and the two were planning on a sleepover at Yotasuke’s place. He could afford to eat anything or to sleep in for a day, it’s not going to end his world. 

“Yatora, all I know is to warm up seed bread in the microwave and boil noodles and pasta,” Yotasuke replies. If Yaguchi wanted to eat anything he could search for it online and cook it. 

“Then seed bread and boiled pasta sounds amazing,” he lowers his head to kiss Yotasuke’s cheek, waiting for the train to arrive. 

Yotasuke turns his head towards him, cringing about the food combination. It sounds disgusting even for him. Plain pasta and bread. All those tasteless carbs? 

Yaguchi laughs at his reaction. “Okay-okay, I’m cooking,” Yaguchi offers. “Naporitan pasta.” 

“Sergio?” 

“He’d kill me if I were to mention these being Italian,” Yaguchi laughs, knowing very well it is true. Sergio is very attached to his Italian origins and takes tradition very seriously. Naporitan pasta are a Japanized dish, trying to mimic the original salsa sauce, referred as Neapolitan outside of Italy.  

It took Yotasuke one week to realize that living all by yourself is hard. Who would’ve thought that 24 hours in a day aren’t enough to do everything. Cleaning, feeding the cat, going to University, gaming, feeding yourself. Troublesome.  

Yotasuke looks around his room. He was living there but it was somehow empty. Lifeless. At least Fumi was running around the place, animating it.  

“I’ll handle the cooking, you can go ahead and shower,” Yatora says, hanging his hoodie on the wall and leaving his bag on the small table in the middle of the room. He then returns to the kitchen area, washing his hands before he could handle the food.  

“Done?” Yaguchi asks from the kitchen area.  

“Mhm,” Yotasuke hums, rubbing his hair with a towel. He turns his head around, but he can’t see the cat. That’s because Fumi is sitting next to Yaguchi, trying to understand what he was doing on the counter.  

Yotasuke goes next to his boyfriend, pressing his lips on Yaguchi’s. Yatora turns off the stove to rub Yotasuke’s head with the towel.  He’s way too innocent.  

“It only needs to cool down.” 

“I’ll take care of it, you go and shower,” Yotasuke says, searching for plates. 

Yotasuke has: 4 plates, 2 bowls, 6 forks and spoons, and 3 mugs. Did he need more? He was living alone after all.  

He hears a knock on his door. 

Who the fuck   

He goes to check the eyehole, he isn’t opening for anyone with no regard.  

It’s a girl. Oh.That girl.  

Maybe he should answer this time, just to see what she wants. This way she might leave him alone.  

“Hello!!” She greets him as soon as he creeps out of the door into the hallway. She has too much energy. 

“Good evening,” Yotasuke neutrally replies. 

“Uhm… how do I start this?” she fumbles with her fingers. 

With the beginning, Yotasuke replies inside his mind. 

“You just moved here, right?” She asks, trying to shape the reason why she was there, in front of him. Yotasuke’s presence can be a little intimidating when he is annoyed. 

“Yes,” he replies shortly, without much animation. 

“Uhm, me too!” she says, trying to stay cheerful. “You’re a student at Geidai? Oil painting?”  

Yotasuke squints his eyes, why does she know this? He looks at the woman. She’s taller than him, with short blonde hair and big eyes. He only recalls seeing her around the apartment complex. 

“Yes…?” He rises one eyebrow, confused about where this is going. 

“Me too! I saw you during the introductions, your name is… Takahashi Yo-Yotasuke?” She closes the space between them, getting way too much into Yotasuke’s personal space attributed to strangers like her. Who even is she? He doesn’t remember her.  Well, you don’t remember anyone Yotasuke.  

During the introductions  

How the fuck did Murai bring that huge painting inside? Absolute showoff.   

“Who are you?” Yotasuke asks, starting to frown already. Why can’t people just introduce themselves and keep it simple, he isn’t supposed to know the name of anyone if they don’t mention it. She’s just like cramped-car-Murai. 

On the background he hears the bathroom door opening. 

“No no no Fumi, come here, pspsps,” Yaguchi tries to catch the cat that was sneaking between Yotasuke’s legs into the hallway, ready to break free. He lifts the cat, making a kissy face to her. 

“Oya? Yotasuke who are you talking with?” Yaguchi notices Yotasuke being outside of the room. His PJs were just a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, giving Yotasuke an easy view to his chest and arms. This situation is… ugh! 

“Miki Kinemi! Nice to meet you!” She bows, introducing herself. 

“Yaguchi Yatora!” Yatora bows, returning Miki’s politeness. 

“Is that your cat?” She asks, enchanted by the short haired white cat. 

“No no, it’s my boyfriend’s,” Yatora replies, holding Fumi in his arms. Fuck why did this Miki have to be here, he could be eating pasta and admire Yaguchi’s physique. Not to mention that he was also wearing his glasses. This timing… 

“May I hold her?” Miki asks Yotasuke. He nods but looks at her, silently questioning why she was there. 

“Right, I was wondering if you wanted to join me for dinner at my place?” Miki asks, remembering the reason why she was there. “I’ve seen you around a few times and having a new neighbor is nice. I thought you were alone but the two of you are welcome! The more the better!”  

Seriously? God didn’t I just say I was about to eat pasta and stare at Yaguchi playing with Fumi? And eventually fall asleep in those arms?  

“Sounds great!” Yaguchi replies, he looks down at Yotasuke, “what do you think?”  

How am I supposed to refuse you?  

“Fine,” he replies, trying to control the tone of his voice so he doesn’t reveal his annoyance at the lost intimacy he could’ve shared with Yaguchi. 

Miki’s room is just one floor below Yotasuke’s, being built with the same structure. However, her room was decorated differently. There must be around 20 house plants. How does she have the time for 20?  

“Your place is very nice,” Yaguchi affirms, looking around at one particular Ficus plant.  

“That’s Sayuri,” Miki says, letting the cat wander around in her apartment. 

She named the Ficus?  

“That’s Atsushi, that one is Chiharu…” she starts to point at different plants. 

She named the damn plants? All of them? The 20 plants?  

Yatora seems to be engrossed into memorizing the names, as if they were real persons and it would be offensive if he forgot what their name was after being introduced. 

“My girlfriend loves plants,” she ends the naming chain. “Do you like curry?” She goes to the kitchen area, taking out three plates. 

“I love curry!” Yatora replies, going to help her. How is he so friendly off the bat? Yotasuke doesn’t know is he should go to the kitchen too, or if he was only going to hinder their movements, being in their way. So, he only stays there, trying to figure out where they will eat since Miki doesn’t have a table. 

Oh. She does have a table. It’s incorporated into the wall. Pretty smart and interesting. Good for space saving.  

“Are you a student at Geidai too, Yaguchi-san?” Miki asks, putting the plates down on the table. “Tea?” She asks.  

“Sounds amazing!” Yaguchi replies, taking the seats from where Miki motioned him. “And to answer your question, no, I’m not at Geidai,” he replies, putting the chair and tapping it, inviting Yotasuke to sit. He was feeling very outside of it all. He can’t be as social as Yaguchi, beating himself for it. 

“I’m doing ballet,” he continues his answer. 

“Really?!” Miki asks, surprised in a good way. “Ballet is so beautiful!”  

Yaguchi smiles, silently agreeing with her. “What about you Miki-san?” He didn’t hear the entire conversation between her and Yotasuke so Yaguchi doesn’t know that Miki is a classmate of Yotasuke’s. 

“I’m at Geidai, with Takahashi-san!” She puts the tea mugs on the table, filling them.  

Takahashi-san  

“Yotasuke is fine,” Yotasuke intervenes, not liking the idea of being called by his father’s name. Takahashi-san is his father, not him. 

“That’s so great!” Yaguchi shouts, “you can always keep in touch if you need anything, all that separates you is one floor!” 

Seriously, your batteries seem to be charged up every time you talk with someone, Yaguchi.  

Miki chuckles, enjoying Yaguchi’s social personality. “My girlfriend is also at Geidai with us,” she says. 

“What’s her name?” Yotasuke asks, trying to creep into the conversation rather than continue to be left out. And he is also trying to remember the names. He must’ve heard at least a few. 

“Ayano! Ayano Aizawa,” Miki replies with a huge smile on her face at the thought of her girlfriend.  

“She was… the first one…? The one from Tamabi?”  

“So, you remember her! Hehe, yes, that’s Ayano-chan,” she replies playfully. Fumi walks to her seat, rubbing her body to her legs. 

“Sorry to intervene… but what’s Tamabi?” Yaguchi asks. He wasn’t as familiar with the art Universities as the two art students in the room.  

“The University Hashida-san went to,” Yotasuke explains before taking a spoonful of the curry, allowing Yaguchi to have a mental idea of the place. 

“Did you two meet there?” Yaguchi asks, turning back to Miki.  

“Ah no-no,” she replies, blushing at the memory. “We went to the same cram school last year,” she continues, looking away. She’s very adorable acting like that. 

“The same cram school?” Yaguchi repeats, being very interested in hearing Miki’s love story. How does he not come off as intrusive? His social skills are way too natural.  

He holds Yotasuke’s hand under the table, listening to Miki’s talking while she is playing with the cat. Apparently, Miki wasn’t even from Tokyo, she moved here three years ago, after graduating highschool. Despite failing twice, she didn’t give up and continued to try again and again on the Geidai exam. It’s very normal for students to fail the Geidai exam multiples times before they eventually get accepted.  

“Yotasuke-kun passing on his first try is very special!” She compliments him. He was starting to get tired in the presence of those two energy fanatics.  

“Yes, I agree, Yotasuke is very special,” Yaguchi pulls his arm around Yotasuke’s shoulders, hugging him.  

Yotasuke doesn’t try to pull him away. At least he could feel Yaguchi’s arms if he wasn’t very interested in the conversation. Feeling the muscle tone while feeling drowsy. 

“What about you two?” The stands up to take the dishes away to the sink.  

“Complicated,” Yotasuke replies without thinking. His eyes open wide. Why did he say that? 

“Yeah, kind of complicated, I think for Yotasuke was the Yoyogi, but I kind of saw him before,” Yaguchi replies, trying not to get too many details out. Yotasuke lifts his head, rising one eyebrow. He needs to know more details about it. He thought  he was the weird one.  

“Kyaa, so adorable,” Miki covers her cheeks, listening to the cheesy love story between the two. 

“May I help you?” Yaguchi stands up, taking one towel and asking Miki if he could handle the drying of the dishes.  

“I think we should get going, Yotasuke might fall asleep,” Yaguchi laughs, looking at how Yotasuke was barely keeping his eyes open at this stage. 

The two end up carrying Yotasuke and Fumi back to his room, allowing Miki to enjoy the rest of her evening alone. 

“Good night,” Yaguchi lets Yotasuke’s body on top of the bed before turning the lights off and joining him, leaving his glasses on the nightstand. He hugs Yotasuke’s body, resting his head on top of his chest and falling asleep to the sound of his beating heart. 

It is around 6 AM when he wakes up. He did not want to leave the bed so quickly, but he needed to do at least a few stretches. Yatora shifts in bed, carefully to not wake Yotasuke up.  

Yotasuke does not own a foam roller. Nor stretching bands. Not even a tennis ball. 

Yotasuke shifts in his bed. Yatora goes to him, making sure he doesn’t disturb his sleep. Yotasuke doesn’t need to wake up early just because he did. 

“No no no no it’s okay, go back to sleep” Yatora coos, kissing him on the cheek. 

Yaguchi decides he’ll do some basic, old-style yoga for stretching. He knows he will regret not using a roller but that’s all that can be done today. He’ll roll when he gets home. He makes a mental note of getting more equipment for Yotasuke’s place if he plans on ever sleeping over again.  

Yotasuke shifts again in his sleep, his body is colder, and his hand taps the place where Yaguchi should be. Only that he isn’t there. He opens his eyes, trying to understand where Yatora is.  

He sees a blurry silhouette. He rubs his eyes again, trying to clean his vision and make out real shapes. 

Bruh 

Yaguchi’s ass is up in the air.  

“What are you doing?” Yotasuke asks, voice raspy from sleep. 

“Good morning, you woke up?” Yatora stays in his peculiar pose and only shifts his head for a moment to make eye contact with Yotasuke. 

“I hope I didn’t wake you up” he excuses himself, this time lowering his body on the floor while supporting it with his arms and stretching his back, looking at the ceiling. 

“You didn’t,” Yotasuke answers. He is still staring at Yatora’s movements. “What are you doing?” He repeats. 

“Yoga,” Yatora shifts back into the initial pose Yotasuke saw him. Legs straight, feet glued to the floor, and upper body bended forward, supporting his body weight with his arms. Downward Dog. 

“What kind of Yoga is this?” Yotasuke asks, still eyeing him. 

“Huh…?” Yaguchi doesn’t seem to understand the question. “Normal Yoga… I guess?” He takes a moment before continuing. “Morning Yoga?” 

Why is he so dumb?  

Yotasuke doesn’t bother into asking further, he doesn’t want to voice ‘why is your ass up in the air?’ So, he leaves the bed, going to the kitchen area to occupy his mind. 

“Want some coffee?” Yotasuke offers. 

“Do you have milk?” Yaguchi asks, he doesn’t enjoy Yotasuke’s habit of drinking it plain and dark. Muddy. 

Yotasuke fumbles around for a moment, opening the fridge and looking for anything resembling a milk bottle. The fridge is mainly empty, he really needs to go and do grocery shopping. 

Miraculously, he finds a milk bottle somewhere in the back. Please don’t be rotten… 

Even more miraculously, the bottle isn’t unsealed yet. 

“Yes,” he answers Yatora’s question. “I even got sugar.” 

“No, no sugar,” Yaguchi declines the offer. “It’ll make my insulin spike and leave me tired.” 

Whatever you want, Yatora, Yotasuke ponders inside his head, not voicing it. Athletes and their knowledge of the human body physiology… 

Yotasuke prepares the two coffees, letting them cool down on the counter and returns to the main area, drawing the curtains. He goes to fill Fumi’s bowl. Only that it’s already filled. 

“I already fed Fumi,” Yaguchi shifts into another pose. He lays on his tummy and lifts his legs in the air, making his spine curve upwards to an impossible angle for an average person.  

Yotasuke looks at Yaguchi’s movements, contemplating each. How is his body so elastic?! Yatora stands up, on his toes and lifts one leg up. Over 180 degrees. Perfectly straight leg. He doesn’t even need to hold onto a wall for equilibrium.  

Yotasuke goes next to him, trying to copy what he was doing. Toes, leg lift.  

His calves contract, almost cramping. He is small, yet the balls of his feet hurt from the pressure of supporting his entire bodyweight. His hamstrings are so tight that he cannot straighten the knee, let alone lift it. 

“What are you doing?” Yatora asks, confused about Yotasuke’s actions.  

“How do you do this?” Yotasuke falls back onto the bed, giving up on trying Yatora’s stretching. Too painful. 

Yaguchi laughs, “I have seven years of practice, Yotasuke,” he stretches the other leg before joining Yotasuke on the bed. 

Yotasuke stands up, putting one leg on each side of Yatora’s, sitting on his lap and hugging.  

“Never thought you were the kind to like cuddling this much, Yotasuke,” Yaguchi kisses his jaw. 

“Then what did you think?” Yotasuke asks, remembering about last evening’s conversation with Miki.  

“Don’t know, Hashida-san said you’re not very chatty and you were avoiding us all the time,” he starts, trying to remember. “Like, I saw you at the gallery, and your face seemed familiar… and I don’t know… I was happy to see you, I wanted to talk with you, but I didn’t know how…” Yaguchi explains.  

“Does this make me less cool in front of you?” Yaguchi laughs, seriously hoping it wasn’t making him appear like a fool. “I wasn’t even aware I liked you.” 

“No…” Yotasuke whispers. He was listening to Yaguchi’s side of the story. He was thinking whether he should reveal more. 

“The performance,” he starts, hiding his face away. “It was one of Nee-san’s performances, and you danced and I just… like it and… screw it,” Yotasuke struggles to voice his thoughts. He wanted to convey his feelings to Yaguchi verbally, without any misunderstandings. “And then I just kept running into you, and I knew I liked you, but I didn’t say anything.” He starts to play with his fingers, trying to keep his mind busy with something else than just saying something so honest that it is embarrassing. 

“I really like you,” he ends up saying, diving his face into Yaguchi’s shoulder to hide his embarrassment and squeezing his hold on him. He then starts kissing his cheek and eye, compensating for his lack of vocabulary. 

Yaguchi listens to him, his face expression softening with each word. They were just two fools. He lifts Yotasuke, forcing him to look at his face. 

“Y-Yatora, are you alright?” Yotasuke asks, alarmed by Yaguchi’s tears. 

He crashes his lips on Yotasuke’s, kissing him in the most innocent way. 

Six feet tall, and super strong, we always get along  

“What are you listening to?” Yotasuke asks, taking out a canvas for his schoolwork. 

Yaguchi turns his screen to reveal a video of Sergio, going from being fully naked to topless and posing, highlighting his muscles. 

“He does videos like this,” Yaguchi returns to his phone, tapping it a few times before turning once again. 

There lived a certain man, in Russia long ago. He was big and strong, in his eye a flaming glow  

Sergio’s build was bigger than Yaguchi’s. He was taller too. But everything combined well because he was still resembling a ballet dancer with a graceful body. 

“How is he doing anyway?” Yotasuke returns to his canvas, setting his materials out. 

“We spoke last weekend, he said he’s graduating in July,” Yaguchi starts. Sergio was older than him with one year and studied at La Scala since he was a complete beginner in ballet at 8 years old. 

“He is going to be a dancer for The Royal Ballet , ” Yaguchi adds, tossing the phone aside to give Yotasuke his entire attention. 

Despite being founded in 1931, The Royal Ballet from England can easily be put next to those who were around hundreds of years before. It is one of the best ballet companies in the world, along with the Paris Opera Ballet from France, The Mariinsky and The Bolshoi from Russia or The Stuttgart Ballet from Germany.  

“I’m happy for him,” Yaguchi says, being genuine. Yotasuke looks at him, silently asking him to explain. “He said he likes  Akane   Takada , now he has the chance to meet her,” he jokes, remembering their chat from September. 

“He’s an otaku,” Yaguchi clarifies after seeing Yotasuke’s confusion. 

Yotasuke huffs and turns his head away, intrigued but amused by this. Of course Sergio would be one of those weird otakus that romanticize everything about Japan.  

“Hey, Yotasuke,” Yaguchi tries to catch his boyfriend attention.  

“Mhm?” Yotasuke swings towards Yaguchi, waiting to hear what he wanted to talk about. 

“Have you ever considered it?... Studying abroad?” He asks, unsure why he was saying it. 

“I mean, think about it... Studying in the same place as the people that shaped the reality we know... walking the same streets, living in the same place as they once did...” Yaguchi continues, daydreaming about the possibility. 

“Japan isn’t lacking in that area, Yatora,” Yotasuke replies. And it’s indeed true, the Japanese culture is as rich as the European one. 

“Yeah... but Japan has its own culture, but it’s separated from what we’re doing...” Yaguchi monologues, “that and science, damn we have a lot of Nobel prizes,” he adds as a joke, trying to lift the tension he created.  

Yotasuke looks at the boy across the room. He tries to imagine what he has said. Studying abroad. Where the old masters lived. Where the art techniques he is studying were invented and polished.  

“I don’t know... I’ve never considered it...” 

“What are you painting?” Yatora asks, giving up on the previous subject. 

“We got an assignment last week,” he says picking up his sketchbook and one pen, thinking about the composition. “Self-portrait.” 

“The same as the first exam subject?”  

“Yeah.” 

Yatora falls silent, deep in thought. “The first time you had to expose someone you knew the examinators would like, but this time you can present your own, true self, isn’t it?”  

Yotasuke lifts his eyes off the sketchbook, stunned at what Yaguchi just said. 

“You’re way smarter than I give you credit for.”  

“Thank you for having me!” Yatora puts on his shoes. 

“Thank you for staying with me,” Yotasuke looks at his boyfriend’s frame, hovering over him. The time with Yaguchi was way too short. But Yaguchi doesn’t afford to stay more. He is going to be busy-busy with his dancing starting next week, and Yotasuke doesn’t want to stay in his way. 

He stands up on his toes, trying to catch Yatora’s lips in one more kiss. 

“No, no, no, Kuwana-chan. In the arabesque, the arms are super high, and the legs are low. We want the opposite, arm long, high leg,” the teacher tries to correct Maki’s form. It wasn’t a wrong execution, but it comes out boring when small details are left out. 

“Okay that’s better,” Saeki-sensei says, trying to show Maki how to implement the movements, “and stay,” she doesn’t move for a moment, displaying the form. She does the steps one more time, “and stay.”  

“That’s better,” she says, looking at the girl copying what the teacher just did. “Okay, next group,” she says, dismissing the girls in front of her and looking at the form of the next wave of students.  

Port de bras, third position, the hand movements don’t have to the choppy, the fingers are just an elongation of the arm, not a separate structure. Pas de basque, first arabesque, horizontal leg extension, hands back into third position. 

“Stay,” the teacher commands, trying to force the students to keep the difficult position in a graceful way for one more second. 

Pas de basque to the right, pas de basque to the left. Get into position, pirouette. One turn, two turns, three turns, four turns, finish with the legs in fourth position. 

“Yes,” Saeki agrees with their movements. Glissade to the front, one more pirouette, make it five turns this time. Legs back into fourth position. The group moves aside, allowing the last ones to use the space and reproduce the same movements, trying to put all of their grace in every movement. 

“Nice, one more after,” the instructor gives the instructions. “Shoulders down, beautiful arms,” she says, looking at the students’ forms, reminding them about the elegance of the movement. 

“Pa-pa-paaa,” she does the steps, trying to show the students what they were lacking, “yes, that’s better.” 

“Still, for my preference, the arabesque still needs work, the arms are too high,” the lifts her hand up in the air, trying to show the students how the movement lack beauty. Instead, she moves her arm in front of her, “yes, like that, and the leg needs to be 90 – at least 90,” she performs the step. 

“Yes, and we want to get it in one. One! You took too long Kuwana,” she says, explaining how the leg can’t stay too much in the air for the act to not be ruined. “One! Higher!” She claps her hands, trying to prove how quick the leg movement should be.  

“Keep the hip in place,” she goes next to Kamiyama, putting her hand on the girl’s waist, helping her to perform the step how it should be. “Yes, that’s better,” she says, seeing the girl redoing it by herself. 

“Okay ladies to the left, boys,” she says, inviting the boys to do their part. “And first, and first, and first, and fifth, and first and first and first, and fifth. Échappé and échappé, échappé, temps levé, temps levé, temps levé, and first and first and first…” she carries out the movements.  

The boys take their position, hands in first position, waiting for the piano song to start. And jump, and jump, and jump. Wider jump, hit your heels while in the air, land in first, and in first, and in first, and fifth, hands move to third position. And start again. 

“Plié, plié, plié,” the instructor repeats, looking at how the boys were carrying out the jumps. 

“Okay, the échappé a little bit wider,” Saeki directs it at Yaguchi, forcing him to redo the jumps, “and more fit in the air.”  

“Even a little more,” she says, analyzing the boy’s movements. “That’s better.” 

The music restarts, inviting the boys to redo the jumps another time. Repetition is the mother of learning. 

“Okay, let’s do glissade, soubresaut, glissade, assemblé, glissade, assemblé, glissade, soubresaut, glissade, assemblé, glissade, assemblé, glissade, soubresaut,” Saeki gives them one more choreography to practice. “And one and two and three and four,  fifth in the air, fifth in the air,” she continues to show the movements, emphasizing the movements with sound effects.  

The music starts, allowing the students to move according to the notes. “Second leg in glissade, yes, that’s it. This leg in the glissade, Ogihara-chan.”  

She looks at each one, trying to see if their form is correct. “Yes, that’s it.”  

“The last group, good.” She turns to one student from a previous round, telling him to redo one step. “Some of you are too nice to yourself, this is not good enough,” Saeki copies the bad form some students had. “It has to be real,” she corrects the feet position, showcasing the actual form. “Yes, that real fit!” 

Extend your leg sideways, thrust it and bend to your knee, creat that energy to make your body turn on the pointe shoes. One thrust, two turns. One more thrust, two more turns, another thrust, one more turn. She is working on her fouetté series, ignoring the fact that she was getting dizzier with every turn.  

Again. Again. Again. Keep that perfect spin. Don’t travel during the turns, keep the leg in place. Come one, hang on a little longer.  

Thud  

She finds herself on the floor, the word is spinning around her. She covers her eyes, trying to ignore the feeling on everything spiting around her head. Even if she removes her hands from her eyes, all she can see is dark spots and stars. 

This is not good. This is bad  

“Maki, are you alright?!” Kamiyama runs next to her alarmed, checking if Maki wasn’t hurt.  

“Please… call my sister,” she sorrowfully heaves, knowing it is impossible for her to do it herself right now. 

On the road home, her fingers are tapping on a very specific name on the screen. 

[ Maki ] : I need to talk with someone 

[ Hashida ] : I’m always available for you 

Chapter Text

Barre.

The class always starts with the barre. Barre and flats. Light exercise that allows your blood to flow and your muscles to warm up before one could get into more complicated movements. You should never skip the barre part if you don’t want to get injured. It is essential. 

There aren’t ‘attributed’ places when it comes to the barre. Everyone just goes to an empty space and annexes it for the said moment, having to find another one the following day.  

This is the norm, and no one is against it. It's just another detail from their routine.  

He looks around, trying to find something. Someone. 

“Where is Maki?” 

What even is the teacher talking about? Why can’t he just use the terms he’s teaching in this class? I don’t have the same classes as those STEM majors, this is unfair.  

Yotasuke didn’t consider the possibility that the molecular biology class might require some more information than what it is taught. But now he can’t quit this class anymore, he has to take it and he must pass it.  

Apparently molecular biology is connected to cellular biology, makes references to histology, and expects you to have some information about the prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells. 

Well, now he can’t complain anymore that he has too much free time. Well, he wasn’t complaining to begin with.  

“I’m home!” just as usual, the cat runs towards the door, ready to greet him in her most beautiful and chaotic way. She's silly. Just like Yaguchi. 

Yotasuke fills her bowl, looking at the wall calendar, trying to remember when the next performance will be he has to watch with his parents.  

Just because he was living alone that doesn’t mean he was cutting ties with them. He was living off their money for the time being. The transition to University isn’t easy, so they will support him financially, eventually he could get a job in his second year.  

La Sylphide this weekend. Yaguchi’s performance is in two weeks. Maki's birthday is next week. His first assignment is due two weeks after. When did he become so busy? 

“Come here,” instead of calling the cat, he goes to pick her up, ready to cuddle with her. He ducks his lips, making little bop sounds in front of her face. But instead, the cat only puts her paw over his mouth, keeping him away.  

“You only like Yatora now,” he complains, falling onto the bed while petting the cat. He picks up his phone, ready to send Yaguchi one picture of the cat that was missing him already.  

Yaguchi Yatora is calling...  

Oya? Telepathy is scary  

“Hello,” Yotasuke starts, waiting for Yatora to respond. 

“Yotasuke!” Yatora starts enthusiastically. The two haven’t seen each other for three days, but apparently that’s too much for Yaguchi. “How are you?” he seems to be in a good mood. 

“I was just about to text you,” he says, waiting for Yaguchi to reveal the reason why he was calling him. “And you...?” 

“I got it!”  

“Got what?” 

“The main role, well, main male role! I’ll be Franz!” he says. Well, now his good mood is explained.  

“Congratulation!” Yotasuke says, having a soft smile on his lips. He was proud of his boyfriend.  

“But they probably gave it to me because we’re last years, so we need to be more in the spotlight, for companies and so...” Yaguchi then proceeds to argue. As if he wasn’t good enough for the role otherwise. 

Please don’t say that...  

“I’d rather think it’s because of your passion and hard work Yatora,” Yotasuke tries to find the words to encourage the other boy. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

Yaguchi doesn’t answer anything. He didn’t want to disagree with Yotasuke. So he’d rather silently accept his compliments.  

“Can we meet up then?” Yotasuke offers, looking outside of the window.  

“That’s the thing... we can’t,” Yaguchi starts, knowing that a big role comes with a lot of responsibilities. “I need to be practicing more now.” 

Of course. 

“That’s okay,” Yotasuke understands. He isn’t a dancer, but he understands. “See you at Hashida’s next week?” 

“Yes!” Yaguchi answers, happy that Yotasuke didn’t make things complicated.  

“See you then, take care,” Yotasuke says, ready to close the phone call. Only the corny sound of Yatora’s kiss could be heard as he was cringing.  

[ Yotasuke ] : *sent a picture* 

[ Yotasuke ] : she misses you btw 

[ Yotasuke ] : not me though 

Fuck this class. Seriously I should’ve never picked it up.   

The fuck is a 60S ribosome?  

Another day, yet the barre is still missing one person.  

“Do you know anything about Maki?” Yaguchi asks his female classmates. She wasn’t answering anyone’s calls or text messages. It was already her second day of not showing up to school. She was working very hard lately, so it was very unexpectable for her to miss her classes. Including the audition.   

“Yotasuke-kun!” Yotasuke lifts his head from his notes. He was trying to understand the DNA replication, and how it is different to the transcription.  

Oh. 

“It’s you, right?” 

“Long time no see, huh?” Yotasuke closes his notebook, giving his entire attention to the unknown person. Smirking about an unsaid joke. 

“I missed you!”  

La Sylphide is a story that takes place in Scotland. The young James Ruben is supposed to marry his fiancée, Effie, but on the wedding morning, everything twists.  

He is awakened by the presence of a Sylph, a magical entity of the air. Well, presence more like kiss. The spirit quickly vanishes away, leaving James alone.  

During the wedding preparations, an old woman, that is also a mage, asks them to allow her to sit in front of the fire, warming her body. Despite James’ refusal, Gurn, James’ rival that is also in love with Effie, allows her to rest, offering her a drink.  

The old mage reads Effie’s palm, revealing her future. She is never going to marry James.   

As James is left alone, stunned by the old woman’s audacity, the Sylph reappears, drawing James to the forest, her home place.  

The second act starts with the old witch and her grotesque demons that are her attendants, brewing a poisonous brew in which she soaks a scarf. As James was busy with the Sylph, the wedding starts, and his absence is quickly noticed. 

The men begin to search for James, including Gurn, that find his jacket. Following the old mage’s advice, he doesn’t tell Effie about it, saying they couldn’t find her fiancé.  

You see, a Sylph is an air entity. It doesn’t have a physical body, therefore it can’t be touched. So, after all of this, she can escape James’ hold and vanish into thin air. Once again, the witch appears, offering the young man a solution for this. A scarf. The scarf. And of course, James accepts it, eager to stay longer with the Sylphide. 

At the touch of the poisonous scarf around her shoulders, the Sylph’s wings drop to the ground, quickly followed by her death. As she is carried away by her sister, the celebrations for Effie’s wedding with Gurn crosses his sight. 

James collapses. Madge exults over his lifeless body. She has triumphed. 

“Congratulations on the performance and your marriage, Nee-san,” Yotasuke bows in front of his cousin.  

“I’m sorry I can’t join this year either.” 

“Sensei, do you know where is Maki-chan?” the students gather around Ooba, waiting for the mystery to be solved. Almost an entire week already missed. 

“She’s taking a break,” Ooba replies, trying to handle the situation with delicacy before sending the students back to the barre. 

“The DNA replication is, well, connected to the transcription. But in a different context. We do the replication to create two cells, and just like the molecular biology theory says, it is semi-conservative, bidirectional – but remember, always from 5 to 3 – and it can start in multiple places-” 

“Hiroshi-kun, if I were to understand any of these I wouldn't be asking for your help,” Yotasuke interrupts, being lost in the same details the teachers were mentioning. 

“Heh, sorry,” Okamoto excuses himself, trying to rethink the way he could easily explain this to someone that was doing arts and not medicine. 

“Well, the genome is made out of these little puzzle pieces we call nucleotides,” he stops for a moment to look at Yotasuke, asking if he was understanding. After Yotasuke’s nod he continues. “And there are specific puzzle pieces that need to be connected to the corners if you want to make out the whole puzzle.” 

“Okay...?” 

“That’s where the DNA polymerase glues itself to start the replication.” 

Yotasuke feels like throwing the take at Okamoto. Where did the polymerase appear from?  

“Fuck it,” he huffs, pushing the notes away, not wanting to see them anymore. 

“Up, play, up, play,” Ooba walks around, looking at the students, “and soft plié.”  

“An up,” she looks at one student’s form, “and up,” she moves to the next student, trying to see if there is something that needs to be corrected. 

“Up and, and up, and up, plié... very good.”  

The piano player was hitting the keys, filling the entire room so the students to have a pattern for their movements.  

“A little bit faster!” Ooba walks around the room, looking at their feet, checking if they were sliding correctly. She goes next to a girl and puts her hand over her knee, trying to improve her posture with a few millimeters.  

“Ogihara-san, legs in the back,” she alerts Ogihara from the distance about a slight inconvenience.  

“And one, one, one, one, plié, two, plié, two, en croix, two, three,  two, three, one, one, one, one, long legs, nice arms,” the pianist stops for a moment, allowing the teacher’s voice to be heard as she states the next few steps.  

“We want to see the overlap but also the  tendu , it’s not bam-bam, you want to see the beautiful leg,” she mentions a mistake she notices at the group. The students were doing the sliding too fast, not allowing the foot to point the toes.  

“One ta-ta, two ta-ta, enveloppé, enveloppé, enveloppé, second time, one ta-ta, two ta-ta, three, squeaks,” she moves to the next part, making sound effects for the students to understand the timing. These were basic exercises that the students learn as children and that don’t need a lot of effort. Just as mentioned before, the barre is for warm up. Every day starts with the barre .  

“Legs behind you and heels forward,” she says, eyes glued to the feet. “And hold,” she forces the students to hold the position a little longer. Girls on the pointe and boys on the balls of their feet. One leg straight in front of them, hands in second position.  

“No, no, you need to use the head,” she says, holding onto the barre, and displaying the correct form. “You see the difference?” she asks, as she lifts her head high instead of looking at the floor, creating an illusion of a longer, more graceful body. The technique is still the same, yet the movement looks more graceful when performed with one little change. 

“Let’s do jétés.”  

And yet, another day Maki wasn’t present.  

“Did you know that a shrimp’s heart is in their head?” how could Ooba be Ooba without those obscure facts she knows about marine animals. 

[ Yaguchi ] : *sent a picture* 

Yotasuke looks at the phone, but doesn’t open it just now, he will talk with Yaguchi later. 

“Everything is alright, Yotasuke-kun?” Hiroshi stops, looking at Yotasuke. “You can answer if you need it, I’m not Fuji Sensei.”  

If you were Fuji sensei, then my phone would’ve been on silent  

“It’s okay, I’ll handle it later, I still need to understand this,” Yotasuke stuffs his phone into his hoodies, looking at the notes in front of him. 

“So, DNA polymerase copies DNA to DNA and RNA polymerase copies DNA to RNA, that’s it, right?” Yotasuke asks, trying to understand the entire thing. 

“Yes.” 

“But DNA polymerase needs an RNA primer?” 

“Mhm,” Okamoto hums, knowing all these details by heart. 

“It doesn’t make any sense!” Yotasuke frowns at the complexity. There is another enzyme that adds the RNA primer, then the DNA polymerase continues, copying one strand, then another enzyme removes that RNA structure to replace it with DNA, ending up with an entire DNA molecule. 

“How do you even understand this?” Yotasuke feels beaten. Why was he struggling like this? He was an honor –  HONOR  – student in highschool. And now he’s here, failing to understand the obvious. A basic piece of information.  

“I’m a med student, Yotasuke-kun, I have this in three different classes,” Okamoto explains, as if Yotasuke’s question needed an answer.  

“How is med school going?” he asks, giving up on the biology. Maybe Epigenetic was a mistake. 

Okamoto’s face falls, having a tired expression. 

“Mood,” Yotasuke starts laughing.  

“It’s nice, but I wish we could get more breaks,” Okamoto complains, feeling exhausted from the overwhelming amount of studies he needs to do.  

“And here I was, complaining I was having too much free time at Arts,” Yotasuke laughs once again. 

“Don’t rub salt into my wound,” Okamoto turns his head away, trying not to cry out of envy.  

Yotasuke sits back in his seat and looks around the University Hall. People were walking around, pushing the doors open, leaving the building, others were searching for a specific auditorium. The sound of their voices was everywhere, animating the lifeless construction.  

“It’s been a long time since we spent time like this,” he says contemplating the past.  

“It’s been a long time since I spent my time doing anything else than only studying,” Okamoto continues to silently cry.  

“How was highschool?” 

“Full of studying.” 

Yotasuke chortles. “Stop it,” he starts, “I’m sure you did more than just studying.” 

“I’m dead serious. I only did studying. I only thought about studying. Dreamt about studying. Three whole years. Studying for the medicine entrance exam.”  

“Damn, you grew up to be boring!” Yotasuke’s chin hits the table, too lazy to maintain a normal pose. “How is Mimiko-chan?” he asks, shifting the subject. Mimiko is Hiroshi’s rabbit pet.  

“She had a lot of babies,” he says, not knowing what else he could mention about her. She's the same as always. “How is Fumi-chan?” 

“Getting old...” Yotasuke says, still laying his head on the table. 

“Do you still play Pokémon?” Okamoto asks. 

“I will  never  not play Pokémon,” Yotasuke jokes, lifting his head up.  

“I started playing recently too!”  

“You should pass by my place,” Yotasuke proposes, smiling about the possibility. “We could duel.” 

“You live alone?”  

Once he arrives home, Yotasuke suddenly remembers about the text he received from Yaguchi earlier. He completely forgot about it. Spending time again with Hiroshi-kun was fun. But damn, med students are boring. All they do is study.  

He checks the text message application to see Yaguchi’s picture.  

And it’s better that he waited 

Holy shit  

[ Yotasuke ] : you put some thought into this 

It was a mirror selfie of him. Bare chest, sweat, messy hair. Why is he this attractive? 

Surprisingly, Yaguchi’s answer comes right away, despite Yotasuke replying hours later. 

[ Yaguchi ] : I miss you  

[ Yaguchi ] : (ಡ‸ಡ) 

[ Yotasuke ] : there there 

[ Yotasuke ] : Maki’s birthday is in a few days. It's going to be okay.  

[ Yotasuke ] : I also miss you 

I really need to run my hands over that chest.  

“Maki! Are you alright?” Kamiyama gets in front of her, relieved to see her friend back in the studio. 

“We missed you, Maki-chan,” Ogihara continues, just as concerned about her wellbeing as Fumi. 

Yaguchi doesn’t speak, instead he hugs her, trying to convey his feelings.  

She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, instead she looks at the ground and says a quick ‘I’m fine’ before occupying a place at the barre, waiting for the teacher’s instructions.  

“Suck it loser!” Yotasuke shouts triumphantly.  

“It’s not fair, you have years of practice,” Hiroshi cries, his face falling flat on Yotasuke’s table.  

“That’s just an excuse,” Yotasuke continues to brag. “Just admit you have no skills.” 

Okamoto deadpans. He gives up the Switch console and pets the cat. At least Fumi isn’t going to judge him for his ‘bad skills’. Do you even need skills to pet a cat? 

“Tell me about the messenger RNA,” he tries to fight back. 

“Shut up,” Yotasuke keeps his eyes on the Switch. He didn’t want to think about biology. It would destroy his entire mood.  

“You doing something next weekend?” Okamoto asks, lifting the cat up and admiring her. 

“My boyfriend has a performance,” Yotasuke furiously presses his console buttons, however, he is still capable to talk at the same time.  

“Right, you told me about him,” Okamoto lets Fumi go, turning towards Yotasuke. “What kind of performance?” 

“Ballet,” Yotasuke continues to play, too focused on the little screen to notice Okamoto’s confused face. 

“I thought you hate ballet,” he says, not understanding how Yotasuke ended up having a ballet dancer as boyfriend. 

“The fate’s irony, right?” Yotasuke says, finishing his game.  

“You grew up,” Okamoto fakes a tear, happy for his friend. 

Yotasuke packs his notebooks, hurrying up to leave the campus for Hashida’s house. He is going to meet up with Yuka, Kudou and... Murai. 

In fact, he is the one that’s going to drive them there. Inside his small, tiny car. All four of them. For thirty minutes. How doesn’t Hashida don’t complain about the lack of space? He is the biggest!  

“Don’t touch me,” he says while seeing Murai approach him. No more. He had enough of him. 

“DoN’T toUcH Me,” he mocks him, scrunching up his face. Yotasuke doesn’t even try to hold back the eyeroll.  

“Oi, Murai, can I drive?” Yuka asks. When did she learn how to drive? 

“No way, I still need my car,” he says, jumping inside the driver seat, “and my life,” he adds, trying to mock Yuka for some apparently bad driving skills.  

Kudou is there just to ease the bickering between the two. Why are they even bickering about? Well, it’s Yuka and Murai, so there shouldn’t be a surprise. The car is too small for two people like them with a big personality.  

Hashida’s home is in Chufo. Closer to the city’s border than the centrum. He is also closer to Tamabi than Geidai, so it evens out for him.  

“Welcome to the Hashida estate,” Murai makes the introductions.  

“It’s just a house, Murai,” Yotasuke says, trying to shake his legs and regain the mobility he lost during the thirty minutes his knees were pressed to the driver’s seat. He goes straight to Hashida’s entry door, pressing the bell button. 

He knows Hashida’s home. Sadly. He was forced to visit him after his sisters saw them interact one time. Those women tried to adopt Yotasuke!  

“Hello!” the person to open the door isn’t Hashida Haruka. Or any other Hashida. 

“Yo, Yatora!” Yuka passes him, removing her shoes and going straight to the kitchen, where she could help with the cooking.  

“Why are you here so early?” Yotasuke asks, completely confused. Yaguchi complained he needs a lot of time to prepare for his role as Franz. Yet he is here before them. Before Maki too. Where is Maki? 

“Where’s the ‘I missed you too’ Yotasuke I was expecting?” Yatora asks, disappointed in Yotasuke’s greet. He hugs him, lifting him up from the doorway so the door can be closed.  

“Hello, Sekai-kun,” Hashida this half of his hair down appears.  

Yotasuke nods, looking at Hashida’s hair and silently judging him for the length. “Hello.” 

He looks around, careful, as if he’s afraid something will happen if he takes a wrong step and attracts the attention of an unknown enemy. 

“They’re not home,” Hashida comforts Yotasuke. He didn’t want to run into his sisters again and become their toy again. They already have Hashida is they want to do someone’s hair, or makeup.  

Murai goes next to him, bringing him down for a kiss. Yotasuke holds back a grimace and goes to the kitchen, trying to occupy himself and wash away the image.  

“Is there something I could do?”  

“The table in the living room,” Yuka runs around, looking around the food Hashida and Yatora were already preparing.  

“When is Maki coming?” Yotasuke asks, moving to the living room just as Yuka ordered him.  

“Less than an hour,” Yaguchi replies, helping him with the table. It was the heavy kind of table that unfolds, allowing more, or less, people to use it. “I’m glad she agreed,” Yatora says deep in thought. 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Yotasuke knows Maki as someone ready to party all the time. Otherwise, why would she be friends with Yuka and Kamiyama? 

“She’s been... absent recently,” Yaguchi answers, not knowing how to explain it. He didn’t even know the answer.  

“Taste test!” Yuka shouts from the kitchen, followed by the sounds of feet, heading towards her.  

“Happy birthday to youuu, happy birthday to youu, happy birthday, Maaakiii!” the group sings for the birthday girl, bringing out the cake Yuka baked yesterday.  

She looks at them, forcing a smile.  

Why is there is terror behind those beautiful eyes?  

“There,” Yuka hands her a piece of cake and wipes some cream on her nose.  

“Thank you everyone,” her voice is shaky. She knew this is what is going to happen.  

She wishes she didn’t come. But she wishes more to silence that voice inside her head.  

She is holding the plate and a spoon. But her hands don’t move, her eyes are fixated on the dessert.  

“Yotasuke,” Murai touches him, trying to catch his attention. He tilts his head, telling the boy to move aside.  

Murai passes him, followed by Hashida, the two were heading towards the frozen girl.  

All he can see is Murai putting her hand over Maki shoulder, talking, while Hashida hugs her, before he turns away. 

He doesn’t want to stare, afraid he might intrude their privacy. 

> 

“Haa,” Ogihara exhales. “Finally in the preprofessional program.” 

“We’ll be able to get lead roles, no more corps,” Kamiyama claims, doing a little victory dance.  

“Remember ladies, long legs, beautiful arms.” 

“Congratulations, Maki!” Yaguchi says. “You did so well as red.” 

“Hello,” a stranger greets her and Yaguchi. 

“Hello,” Yaguchi answers, ready to make conversation. He isn’t very keen about art, he doesn’t understand it. Well, he does, but not oil painting. Maybe not even oil painters can understand oil paintings.  

There's this feeling. Something about this stranger.  

“Excuse my manners, my name is Hashida Haruka.”  

“Kuwana Maki.” 

“So, how is the dance going?” Hashida asks while admiring the beautiful green shade of the fresh grass around them. Summer was approaching. 

“Amazing,” she starts, “I love it.”  

Their most recent play was a success. 

“You should’ve seen me,” she brags.  

“The list is up!” Kamiyama shouts, checking her phone, ready to see her attributed role in Giselle. 

The list.  

Oh.   

The corps.  

Oh.  

It’s okay

“Hello everyone, this is Hashida Haruka,” she introduces the boy in front of everyone else.  

Hashida looks around, trying to memorize the faces and the associated names. That Yuka is kind of hot. Is there any way for him to get her phone number? 

Corps  

She undresses herself, ready to take a bath. Her own reflection in the mirror catches her sight.  

She ignores it. 

Corps  

.This can’t be true

?We're supposed to be preprofessionals. Why can’t I break free  

“That’s a big bento, Maki.” Hashida notices. 

What...?  

“Shut up, dancing burns a lot of calories.” Maki counters. “I feel like girls that dance eat a lot, unlike the boys, maybe that’s why some are that skinny.” she continues.   

Yes, that’s right. It only evens out.   

...No, that’s just an excuse 

There's talking in the background. But she gets lost in her own thoughts. 

“Maki, are you alright?” Yuki asks, confused about Maki’s silence.  

“Yeah, just a little tired.” 

She looks at herself in the mirror.  

Maki closes the bathroom door so she can have some intimacy. She tucks her baggy sweater behind her, trying to see how her silhouette looks. 

Is it because...?  

It might be...  

“What is she doing?” 

“She’s beating the sound out of her shoes.” 

“Ah.”  

“What is that?” 

Ara? Are those Yotasuke and Hashida?  

“It basically means making your shoes silent so when you jump, they’re not noisy and don’t distract the audience from the dance.” 

She runs towards them, hugging Hashida. She offers Yotasuke the option too, but he declines.  

He's really not that friendly.   

“Isn’t it a bit too late, Maki-san?” 

.Late? The only thing that’s late is me 

“I have to work hard to get out of the corps, Yaguchi.” 

“However you feel better, Maki-san, please don’t overdo it.” 

.There's no such thing as overdoing when you need to catch up  

“Hey, Hashida, can you help me with something?” she asks, trying to control her voice. 

“Anything,” he answers, meaning it. 

“Please dance with me.” 

She takes off her t-shirt and stretches sideways, looking in the mirror. 

The flesh over her ribs must be the reason behind this broken situation.

Calorie limit: 1200  

The two dancers wait impatiently for the page to reload and for the names to be displayed. 

I’ve worked harder lately, I must land big this time! 

“IT’S UP!” 

Oh.  

.The corps. Again   

“What about Don Quixote? Didn’t you say you are also going to dance that?” Hashida asks. 

.Right. But I doubt it at this rate  

Wait,  

No way  

Maki Kuwana – Mercedes  

Maki looks at her barely touched bento.  

So hard work and diet really pay off.  

.I can’t slip anymore

“I’m going to leave early today, I want to see what the girls got, see ya!!” 

“Maki, we need to talk,” Hashida says. He's always so perceptive of every single detail. It must be both a blessing and a curse.  

This is fun.  

Geisai is fun.  

“Maki-chan, don’t you want a picture in front of the Mikoshi too?”

No, Yatora, I can’t face my own image

There is music, and dance, and the mikoshis are very beautiful and the boys are fun to have around.  

You did it  

You broke the fast  

You wasted every single hour of the fast  

And yet, her bowl is only half finished.  

But I danced around for long enough, I think I can even double this entire bowl, so that’s okay.  

,You fool  

.Those are just wasted calories   

Stretch. She lowers her body, allowing her crotch to touch the ground. She puts her legs over two yoga blocks on each side. It's not 180 degrees. It's 200. 

“You’re stretching again?” Yuki asks, seeing Maki in her room. 

"It’s big...” 

“Huge.” 

“Big things are really powerful, gya ha ha.” 

The two turn their heads away from the giant painting towards the obnoxious laugh. 

No word is shared, but she can feel it. The way energy shifted. The connection is almost spiritual. 

Hashida stays silent, looking at the man in front of him. 

“Hello,” Maki greets her roommate. 

“Hello,” the other girl answers. She seems to be in the middle of a workout. 

?How are her abs and ribs so visible  

?How are her manèges and pointe hops so good 

.That's a real Giselle 

.And I’m just villager B  

Calorie limit: 800  

[Deactivate69847Ana-is-a-dainty-butterfly] : Guys! there’s this hack!! Life saver! If you ever wonder whether your soda is zero or has calories, you only need to test your fingers. If it’s sticky it has sugar! Take care x  

“Does anyone want snacks?” Yuka asks.  

“I think I’m good.” 

But Hashida knows better. She doesn’t even face him because she knows his facial expression by heart at this point. 

Please don’t  

They're way over my limit  

Please   

“They will allow students to do the Dance of the Little Swans...” 

This is my chance  

I need to work harder  

!...I will be a swan

“Hey sis, is everything alright?”  

“Yes! I’m just... there’s this... they will take students for the little swans dance, I need to work hard!!” Maki stumbles with her words, not sure which route to take.  

?Should I tell someone 

?But what am I without this illness  

“I’m working on it,” Maki and Hashida finally talk. 

“So I was right...” 

He stands up, pulling the smaller girl into a hug. 

“Thank you for trusting me.” 

I did it  

I am on the scene  

And everyone is clapping for us  

“Ta-daaa!” an employer of the Opera has brought them sweets. 

It is quite common for dancers to receive gifts after a show, especially such a big show.  

I know that if I take even one bite, I won’t be able to stop myself  

I can’t eat these  

“For you!” she offers the marzipan bars. 

She looks at the ground, too ashamed to face Hashida. 

“What are you doing afterwards?” 

We need to talk. I know we need to talk 

“Celebration with my family.” 

...Please don’t look at me like that. Please don’t see that I’m lying to you  

“We’re going on a date,” Hashida says, looking at the canvas in front of him. What should he paint? 

“So you’re not joining us for Christmas?”  

“Not this time, but I trust you.” 

Why does every reunion have to be about food  

Fried chicken has too many calories  

“I have something for you all,” Maki lifts her eyes, scared about what she thinks the ‘something’ is.  

“They’re homemade.” 

Of course they’re homemade. You always think about the people around yourself because your parents don’t look after you and you have this feeling that you must be the bigger sis  

I have to eat one, right? Everyone is eating. That's how it is polite. Hashida isn’t here, but what if someone else notices  

Okay, only one  

Fuck  

I wonder how many calories these could have  

It looks around 40 grams  

...It looks like it has butter, definitely eggs. Chocolate chips, why did you add chocolate chips Yuka? Those are just empty calories

She adds everything in her calorie counter app 

203 Kcal  

It can’t be  

It's just a cookie  

This is unfair  

“Be right back,” she says while heading towards the bathroom. 

I hate purging  

But I can’t let empty calories to sit in my stomach  

I still have to eat dinner with my family...  

Hitting the back of her throat makes her eyes sting, it comes with the reflex. 

Back in the restaurant, they want to have a toast. 

Water has no calories  

“We’re official,” Hashida says with a small smile on his lips. 

“Hey, Maki, I was wondering if we could go out this weekend,” Kamiyama asks her over the phone. 

Going out means food  

“I’m sorry, I need to work over the New Year variation,” she says the most fitting excuse she could find. 

Mirror, mirror 

Binge and restrict and binge and restrict 

I hate it  

I’m stuck at the same weight  

Calorie limit: 500  

My eyes burn  

My head hurts  

Why are there so many stars  

So many dark patches  

My heart is beating like hell  

Is this the end?  

No  

I’m just tired, that’s all  

“Do you want me to call your sister?” Kamiyama asks, they didn’t want to leave her alone. 

“Please,” she replies, resting her head into her arms. 

She looks at her tired eyes. Dark circles. Since when did her skin started to have acne?  

She ignores it. 

She also ignores the hair strands on the hairbrush.  

Ignoring the truth. Lying to herself for an imaginary reality. 

“Do you want my gloves, Maki?” Yotasuke offers, alarmed by the girl’s blue nails and shivering. 

She pinches the skin around her thighs. She tries to encircle her wrist, is it small enough?  

It's never enough. 

I did it  

I'm worthless  

I hate this feeling of fullness  

My stomach is so full I can’t even lay  

Days without binging: 0  

“Hey Maki, you’re free this weekend?”  

“Sorry, my family has a... thing...” 

Saying she must practice isn’t an excuse anymore. They don’t have any other performances for a while. 

Hashida Haruka is calling...  

Declined 

“Hey, Maki,” Hashida starts. 

“Hello,” she casts one big smile, almost real. It makes your heart happy if you see it, and sad if you knew it. 

“Don’t fake it...”  

“I passed!” Yuka screams over the phone 

“Let’s meet! We need to celebrate!” 

Oh…

“Everything good, Maki?” Yotasuke sits next to her.  

“Mhm, congratulations, Yotasuke!” she reaches for him with her arm, giving him another hug.  

“Do you want something to drink?” Yotasuke offers. 

“I’m good, don’t worry,” she smiles. 

Drinks are empty calories  

Dancing burns calories  

If I refuse his offer and dance, he won’t guess it  

Oh, Hashida is coming  

“You can’t get help, unless you ask for it,” Hashida says, begging for her to ask for help. To understand it that this doesn’t have to happen. That she can get better. There is life after this.  

But she doesn’t say anything.  

“More vivacious, Kuwana-san!” the teacher says. “You’ve been slaking off lately...” 

No  

Please don’t put me back in the corps  

I'm working so hard  

…

I need to work harder  

This is so lonely  

Just me, myself and I  

If only I didn’t push everyone away  

I’m the worst  

You are so egocentric, Maki. Hashida tried to help you. But you refused. Now he won’t even dare to talk with you  

Who even cares  

I need to practice  

You.  

You care.  

“Please bring Hashida back...”  

Practice  

Practice  

Practice  

Extend your leg sideways, thrust it and bend to your knee, create that energy to make your body turn on the pointe shoes. One thrust, two turns. One more thrust, two more turns, another thrust, one more turn. She is working on her fouetté series, ignoring the fact that she was getting dizzier with every turn.  

Again. Again. Again. Keep that perfect spin. Don’t travel during the turns, keep the leg in place. Come one, hang on a little longer.  

Thud  

She finds herself on the floor, the word is spinning around her. She covers her eyes, trying to ignore the feeling on everything spiting around her head. Even if she removes her hands from her eyes, all she can see is dark spots and stars. 

This is not good. This is bad  

“Maki, are you alright?!” Kamiyama runs next to her alarmed, checking if Maki wasn’t hurt.  

“Please… call my sister,” she sorrowfully heaves, knowing it is impossible for her to do it herself right now. 

On the road home, her fingers are tapping on a very specific name on the screen. 

[ Maki ] : I need to talk with someone 

[ Hashida ] : I’m always available for you 

One day without practice  

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he says as the girl in his arms bails. 

“We can fight this, together.” 

“Maki, you were chosen as Swanhilda, the female lead!” 

“I will have to skip on this, sensei...” 

Two days without practice  

“Nee-san, can we talk....? 

Three days without practice  

“It’s okay, Maki, I’m here,” Yuki says, holding her sister’s hand. 

“Mom, dad... I have something to tell you...” 

Four days without practice  

Yaguchi Yatora is calling...  

She sets it on silent, returning her attention to the woman behind the desk 

“No, this is the first time I’m here,” she says, squeezing Hashida’s hand in a desperate attempt to make sure he is still there. 

Five days without practice  

?So, you’re giving up that easily

Shut up  

Worthless 

SHUT UP  

Six days without practice  

“Hello, Maki, please take a seat,” the psychiatrist says, casting one warm smile. Hopeful. 

Seven days without practice  

This will be alright  

I will be aright  

I think I should go back to class...  

“Happy birthday to youuu, happy birthday to youu, happy birthday, Maaakiii! ” the group sings for the birthday girl, bringing out the cake Yuka baked yesterday.   

This isn’t alright 

Why isn’t it alright? 

?What are you doing? You're going to eat that  

Do you know how many calories the frosting on your nose has? 

“It’s okay Maki, it’s okay, you don’t have to force yourself,” Hashida hugs her. 

She feels Murai’s hand on her shoulder, hearing his voice trying to soothe her. 

She is not alone, and she knows it.  

< 

“Hey, Hashida-san, is Maki alright?” Yotasuke asks, not sure if he was allowed to invade what seems a personal matter.  

“She will be,” Hashida answers, before leaving Yotasuke alone with his thoughts.  

She takes her plate to the kitchen. The cake piece half finished.  

The first victory.   

Chapter Text

“Boo,” Yotasuke puts his index finger over Yaguchi’s nose, being remotely scary. 

“Y-Yotasuke?” Yaguchi asks, confused. “Why are you here?” 

“Can’t I come pick up my boyfriend from his ballet classes if I miss him?” Yotasuke replies in an impartial tone, contrasting the caring words he was expressing.  

“You should’ve told me you were coming, what if we didn’t run into each other?” 

“But we did,” Yotasuke replies, taking Yatora’s hand into his own. “I’m walking you home.” 

Yatora doesn’t reply, making Yotasuke turn his head to check on him. “What?” he asks, not understanding Yatora’s trembling expression. Yatora lifts his hand behind Yotasuke’s head, bringing him into a kiss. Yatora finally took the initiative to kiss him in public.  

“I’m so lucky you’re my boyfriend.”  

Yotasuke is confused but doesn’t say anything. He looks at Yaguchi’s lips and then at his eyes, smiling. And turns his head away, blushing. 

“Whatever,” he clicks his tongue, trying to act cool. “You good?” he changes the subject towards something more casual. Yaguchi doesn’t reply, this makes Yotasuke side eye the boy next to him, checking if everything is alright. 

“Yeah, it’s just the... it’s stressing, and I feel like I can’t execute the steps well enough or that I’ll mess up when I’m up there,” Yaguchi looks at the ground, images from today’s rehearsal playing inside his mind.  

“Put your foot like that, Ogihara,” the instructor says, “no, like that,” he repeats, posing for her to understand. “Look at the audience, why do you keep doing this?” he does an exaggerated pose that doesn’t look anything close to what the girl was doing but was forcing her to understand her mistake.  

“Just look that way naturally. There. Why are you hunching? It takes away your height,” he continues to complain. Once you are on the stage every single detail is important. For the performance to be successful it must start with the dancers, they can’t depend on the lightning or the makeup or the costumes. It's all about movements. 

“Put it down,” he motions towards her elbows that are too high. “Step - one, two,” he continues, doing the steps himself. “Take her hand,” he orders Yaguchi. 

“And then you start walking, got it?” he urges the two to do as he says.  

“You’re got this foot on tiptoes, then why are you bending it like this?” he continues with another exaggerated sloppy step. Not every instructor is nice and gives you constructive criticism in the way you’d like it. Some of them are more aggressive in nature.  

“Continue, walk,” he resumes, putting his hands around his waist, trying to analyze the girl’s steps. “Why are you walking like that?” he does the steps again, walking towards the other side of the room. He sighs, “Ogihara, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” he asks, resting one hand around the waist and lifting the other in frustration. “Is it your first time on stage?”  

He then turns to Yatora, “Yaguchi, I scolded you, joked with you, now what do I do? Beat you?” Yaguchi presses his lips together, listening to the instructor, moving from one leg to the other, accepting his passive aggressive attitude without opposition. He knows that saying something will only result in more scolding. 

The teacher turns towards Ogihara again, “Now, from here, walk that way, with big steps,” he motions from one spot to another, giving the two one more chance to prove themselves.  

“Kamiyama, come here, you’re next,” he calls the girl, beaten about the other two’s movements.  

“God! Can’t you lead with one arm, then the other and you’re gone, that’s it!” he continues his complaints about Yaguchi’s movements. “You can’t slack off until this point!” he says as he reaches the said point on the stage. Yaguchi accepts his critiques, trying to understand on his own what he was doing wrong. He does the steps one more time. “Now you look like a human being!”  

The people behind the scene don’t get to experience the fairy tale. That's only for those in front of the Orchestra pit. On the stage, work comes first, nothing else. They were told on the first day of school, it’s all about work from now on. There are no miracles. They have to study hard to be able to perform the miracle on the stage. 

“Yatora. Yatora?” Yotasuke calls out his name. Yaguchi shakes his head, returning his attention to his surroundings. Home. They were heading home. And their train was right there. 

“Look at me,” Yotasuke holds his chin, forcing Yatora to face him. “I’ll be there, in the audience, I’ll cheer for you no matter what,” he starts, looking into Yaguchi’s eyes. “I’ve seen you dance on the stage before and you’ve never messed up, this time it won’t be any different,” Yotasuke squeezes Yaguchi’s hand, adding emphasis to his words. “You’ve got this!” 

Yaguchi looks at him, breaking a little smile in exchange for his encouragement words. He keeps silent, trying to force himself to believe what Yotasuke is true and that everything will run smoothly tomorrow.  

“Let’s talk about something else,” Yotasuke proposes. Overthinking leads to self-destruction. 

“About that-” Yaguchi starts, unsure how to voice what he wanted to say. 

“Hm?” Yotasuke hums, happy that Yaguchi also wanted to change the subject. Maybe it’s something more positive that would end up cheering him up. 

“I, uhm, I might’ve told my mother about you...” Yaguchi says, rubbing the back of his nape. His face is grimacing, stressed about what Yotasuke might think. Was their relationship advanced enough to mention their parents?  

“Oh? How was it?” instead of being annoyed or even angry, Yotasuke seems to be pleased.  

Yaguchi stays silent for a moment, shocked about Yotasuke’s reaction. “Uhm, right, she wants to meet you,” he comes back to his senses, shaking away the startlement.  

Yotasuke’s mouth contorts, thinking about the possibility. “Okay,” he clicks his tongue.  

The train around them was moving from station to station, getting fuller with every stop. Yotasuke’s eyes were fixated on his and Yaguchi's reflection on the window from across their places. He continues to play with his mouth for a while before resting his head on Yaguchi without breaking his stare in the window reflection.  

“Not tonight though, I promised mom I’m having dinner at home,” he finally breaks his silence and shifts his eyes back on the Yaguchi next to him rather than his glass reflection.  

“Of course, when you’re available, I don’t want to pressure you into it,” Yaguchi replies, scared he wasn’t pushing Yotasuke’s boundaries. He knew he wasn’t out to his family yet.  

“I want to meet your mom too, she seems cool,” Yotasuke smiles thinking about Yaguchi’s mother. He must’ve gotten that personality from her. The looks too probably.  

“My stop is next,” Yaguchi says, looking down at Yotasuke.  

Yotasuke lifts his head off Yaguchi, “Do you want me to come over before the performance?”  

“I doubt we could talk... rehearsals...” he motions with his hand, trying to make out words he can’t think of.  

“Got it, don’t overthink it, we can talk afterwards,” Yotasuke adds before letting go of Yaguchi’s hand so he can leave the train. Yatora nods, looking a little more confident.  

“I’m home!” Yotasuke announces. He hears his mother’s steps, ready to greet him from the kitchen doorway.  

“Good evening, Yota, how was your day?” she asks. Yotasuke opens his hoodie zipper, hanging it on the wall. He removes his shoes and joins the kitchen. 

“Good. Classes,” his reply is brief, just as usual. She wouldn’t care about details, and he doesn’t provide them. He looks around the room, trying to see if he can do anything. 

His father is already arranging the plates. The food seems to be almost ready too. He only goes to wash his hands before picking up the rice cooker and placing it on the table.  

“How is University going, Yotasuke?” his father asks him. Is he in a good mood? How comes he asks about Yotasuke? Usually he sits in his place, eating and thinking about finances when Yotasuke and his mother talk. Or he is only talking with his mother.  

“Until now it is fine, I didn’t get to do much,” he replies, taking the plates from his mother, helping her. “We have an assignment due the following week, other than that, just classes that are not related to art.” 

“Are you making friends?” Why is he asking that?   

Yotasuke tries to hold back his confused frown. Keeping a neutral face for the family. 

“Yes,” he starts, thinking about how he is going to voice it. “I met up with Okamoto-kun.” 

“Oh, the friend you had in middle school?” his mother joins the conversation, sitting at the table. Yotasuke hums in agreement. “How is he doing?” 

“He went to medschool and he studies a lot,” he replies, not sure what else he could tell his parents about Hiroshi. They weren’t aware about their romantic past.  

“What a fine boy,” his mother compliments Hiroshi about the second part, the one that has to do with studying.  

Yotasuke takes a moment to think about what else he could mention. He likes the place where he was living. One of his classmates is his neighbor. Yaguchi is his boyfriend and he slept over a few times, and he like Yaguchi, and Yaguchi likes him, but he cannot say any of that because he is a coward. 

“How is it at home?” he switches the conversation, allowing his parents to take over.  

“You know, the usual,” his mother starts. He was listening to her talk about the same things she always mentions. Just their average life. His father goes to work, complains about his subordinates. His mother goes to the market every day and takes care of the house. Their lives didn’t change that much after his leave. 

“How is Fumi-chan?” his father asks. Seriously, is everything alright with him? Since when did he become so interested? 

“She’s good, one room seems to be enough for her to run around,” Yotasuke picks at his food, separating the meat from the bone.  

“We miss you two, you know?” his father says. 

Yotasuke ceases his movements for an instant, processing his words. Whatever. 

“Me too,” he replies, before biting the meat he was holding with the chopsticks.  

“You’re not staying over?” his mother asks in the hallway.  

“Fumi needs to be fed,” Yotasuke picks up his hoodie from where he left it earlier. “I’ll visit another time,” he adds before pressing the doorknob. “Good evening.” 

“Goodbye,” his father says from the living room.  

Despite the sky being dark, one cannot see the starts from Tokyo. The amount of artificial light makes it impossible. The spring breeze runs through his bangs, reminding himself that he has a physical form and that he is alive, not just a ghost between the living. 

The cherry blossoms were in full bloom around one month ago, their flowers are now replaced with fruits that wait to get ripped and eaten. That's the cycle of life when you are at the bottom of the food chain. You die so other can eat off you. 

The weather outside is cold, however Yotasuke walks for a little longer, being lost in the evening and his thoughts. There's this feeling you get when you are out in the dark. It's... calming. There aren’t as many people and you can just enjoy some time alone. Sometimes you can cross roads with a stray cat, and you mutually respect each other’s boundaries, allowing one another to continue your lonely walk. 

Meeting his family... 

“Yotasuke-kuun!!” He tries to pack his belongings, ignoring the obvious scream of his name on the background. What does Miki want this time?  

“Yotasuke-kun!” she appears in front of his face. She is smiling, some other people are behind her, out of which he can recognize her girlfriend. Ayano, right? 

“Mhm?” he hums, looking at the ground, trying to find a way to exit the situation as soon as possible without any implications.  

“Do you want to join us for lunch?”  

No. I do not want that.   

He keeps on avoiding eye contact with her, afraid that if he were to see the sparkles she holds, he might not be able to refuse Miki and he’ll be swapped into a troublesome situation. Lunch... why would he eat with those people he doesn’t even know. This is not even an art class, why did he have to get sorted with her? 

“Sorry Miki-san, I need to arrive home,” he says before passing next to her, climbing the auditorium stairs and heading towards the exit. 

“Maybe another time,” she says when he reaches the top.  

Maybe not.  

But instead of replying that he turns his head and nods. He keeps a neutral and tired facial expression, trying to disclose what he doesn’t want to say.  

People are troublesome.   

He ends up hiding in the library, hoping no one he knows will see him. He was feeling sort of ashamed that he lied but what else could’ve he done? If he tagged along, he would’ve ended up listening to their talk and feel excluded.  

“What... are you doing...?” Yuka asks, freaked out about seeing Yotasuke’s head behind a large artbook, playing with his Switch. Yotasuke stops his hands movements for a moment, slowly turning his head to face her. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is pressed tight. 

“Did you imagine the printers worked on this book for you to use it as hideout?” Yuka flattens the book, letting it fall on the table and exposing Yotasuke to the eyes of the public. Yotasuke looks around, alarmed and afraid he was seen. He lifts the book and puts it back the same way it was before Yuka came. 

She looks at him with a confused frown, lips parted, ready to say something but not sure enough what. Yotasuke closes the Switch and puts it back into his backpack, checking the clock to see how long he has left until the next class.  

“Are you good?” she tries to break the silence.  

Yotasuke hums, looking at his phone home screen. Fifteen minutes until next class.  

“How are you, Yuka?” he asks, lifting his eyes and finally facing her. Happily, he didn’t notice anyone from Miki’s group.  

“I came here to study, but now you freaked me out,” she says, trying to resume her usual facial expression.  

“You’re coming tonight?” he asks, ignoring her obvious revolt. Maybe acting dumb from time to time isn’t that bad. He could learn more from Yaguchi. 

“Yaguchi’s performance?” she asks, just to be sure she understood what Yotasuke meant. He nods before she can continue. “Nope,” she lifts her backpacks and starts to search for her notebooks. “I have a date.” 

Yotasuke’s eyebrows lift at that, “a date? With whom?” he asks, trying to get more information. Just small chat, isn’t it how normal people do it? 

“A guy,” she says, arranging the notebooks in the order she wants to study the subjects. “From the arts department.” 

“I though you didn’t like,” he lifts his hands and bends the fingers, quoting her ‘craftsmen.’

“Let’s say even I can have a change of heart when said craftsman has the same bicep size as my thighs,” she whispers, to the displease of everyone around them that was in the library to study rather than listen to their murmuring.  

Bruh  

Yotasuke rolls his eyes, not afraid to show his displease in front of Yuka. “Whatever, I’m out,” he says, picking up his backpack and the big artbook he used as hideout so he can put it back to the shelf he took it from. “Study well,” he returns to the table Yuka was at, lifting his arm as a last goodbye. He looks around, still afraid someone might see him and find out he was a liar.  

Yotasuke, no one cares, you can do whatever you want. 

“Yotasuke!”  

Ah yes, exactly the person I wanted to see least.  

If I ignore him, he doesn’t exist.  

When was the last time Yotasuke even saw Yaguchi on the stage? It must’ve been... last July? Well, he did see his Don Quixote CD, but it’s a CD, not a live performance. Isn't this also the first performance he will witness as his boyfriend? 

“Good evening,” a girl’s voice welcomes him in the lobby. 

“Good evening,” Yotasuke replies, trying to be polite. However, the voice tone made him question its owner’s identity. He lifts his eyes up, confused and trying to verify his hypothesis. 

“Maki?” he asks, puzzled. Why is she here? And why is she wearing casual clothes? Shouldn't she be already backstage, already dressed up and doing her makeup?  

“That’s the name my parents gave me,” she jokingly says, trying to make a joke out of Yotasuke’s somberness.  

“You’re not dancing?” he asks, not understanding the meaning of her actions. It was a rhetoric question, is she were to be dancing she would definitely be backstage.  

“Nope,” she shakes her head, smiling, “not tonight. They gave me Swanhilda, but I had to take them down,” she says, stepping towards the amphitheater door.  

“I had to take a few days off,” she says, not mentioning the reason behind those days. Yotasuke doesn’t want to ask her about them either, afraid it might be too personal. He contents himself with the details Maki was giving out and the fact that she seemed to be doing better. She was pretty depressed lately. 

“Have you seen it before?” she asks, searching for her place. Surprisingly she has her seat next to Yotasuke. Well, it was Yaguchi that gave the seat to Yotasuke and the students have access to almost every untaken lace.  

“Coppélia? Yeah, my-” he starts to explain but he’s interrupted by the girl next to him. 

“-’My cousin does ballet and my mother forces me to go and watch every show of hers, so I know everything inside and outside,’ isn’t that what you wanted to say?” she asks, mocking him for being too predictable.  

Bruh  

He doesn’t reply, instead his face falls flat. It is enough to tell the girl she was right and make her laugh.  

“A peculiar story with mechanical puppets and human sacrifice, the people must’ve been really interesting in 1800s. You know, the choreography is done by Roland Petit, and the story is inspired by one of Ernst Theodore Amadeus Hoffman ’s fables,” she starts. Despite not being present in flesh, Hashida’s spirit is always following Yotasuke. Scary. 

“Isn’t that the same guy that wrote The Nutcracker and the Mouse King?” Yotasuke intervenes, trying to prove that yes, his cousin is into ballet and his mother has forced him to watch every show, and at least he learned a thing or two. 

She nods, the two would like to talk more about the connections there are in the ballet world, but there it is. The silence that precedes every single performance. No one says anything, waiting for the orchestra to do their act before the curtain is drawn and the interior design is shown to the public.  

As the two were saying, E.T.A Hoffman – born as Erns Theodore Wilhelm, he changed his name to Amadeus as admiration for Mozart – wrote both The Nutcracker and the Mouse King that inspired the worldwide known dance story, but he also wrote Der Sandmann that is the basis for today’s performance, Coppélia.  

Coppélia is one of the more peculiar ones, they call it a ‘comic ballet’. First presented to the public in 1870 in Paris, France, Marius Petipa (of course), created another version for the Bolshoi Ballet Company, which is more known today than the original choreography.  

However, it is a good thing that they chose Roland Petit’s choreography and not Marius Petipa’s today. Don't get me wrong, I’m not a ballet expert, but the Russian ballet, Vaganova style as it is casually named, depicts women as the only dancers. They do all the beautiful work. They jump. They spin. They act. While men... men sit there and try to flutter around their arms, doing ma(i)nly... nothing.  

Petit’s version carries some male variations that are a real delight for the eyes. It includes actual dance steps that are presented to the public as soon as the curtain is open, and the first balcony scene is presented. 

This is the story of Swanhilda, Franz, Doctor Coppélius and his creation, Coppélia. Because of her size and beauty, Coppelia looks like an actual human being rather than just a mechanical doll, left outside on the balcony to read.  

Swanhilda and Franz are supposed to get married, however Franz falls in love with the mechanical doll Coppélia, admiring her from afar every day in the city center.  

However, because something seems sketchy, Swanhilda decides to break into Doctor Coppelius house and research alongside a few friends about this Coppélia. She can’t let Franz get taken away from her this easily. 

Inside the home of the scientist, she notices that those ‘humans’ aren’t humans, but human-sized mechanical dolls. Coppélius catches her inside his home and throws her, and her friends out.  

You see, Coppélia isn’t human. She is a mechanical doll that has human-like proportions. But she could be brought to life. With life in exchange. And who else could be a better victim if not the young man that is enamored with this beautiful doll? 

And that’s when Swanhilda differs from most of the ballet heroines. She can’t simply allow Coppélius to take her lover’s life for a mechanical creation. She breaks in and saves Franz from the mad scientist.  

The ending is a ‘fun’ one. Franz and Swanhilda get married but, Doctor Coppélius somehow shows up and claims damages. Well, Swanhilda did break into his house... 

Firstly, Swanhilda offers her dowry in exchange for forgiveness. However, Franz intervenes and says he will be the one paying. In the end, the mayor offers Coppelius a bag of money, and everything ending in a big laugh. 

People really had an interesting view of the world in the 1800s. The dude wanted to steal her lover’s soul, yet he is asking for money...? I won’t even try to understand it.  

Yotasuke’s attention is mainly on the stage, but he cannot not notice the way Maki’s fingers hit her thighs, making out the music rhythm. Doesn’t Yaguchi do the same thing? Is it a ballet dancer thing?  

The pas de deux is passionate, you can feel the tension between the lovers. The way Swanhilda is madly in love with him, but he is also eyeing the mechanical doll. And, as usual, if there is a pas de deux, there is a male variation.  

The two are watching intently, captivated by every leg lift or hand swing. Everything is beautiful. But the fouettés... the fouettés are magnificent.  

Leg lifted sideways, the body weight is supported on the balls of one leg. The dancer must create enough energy for him to spin around multiple times, without making any rush movements that would destroy the whole tempo.  

One, two, three... four...? Five? SIX? SEVEN?! EIGHT! Eight whole turns, before resuming the choreography, without getting dizzy or clumsy.  

Maki grasps and lifts her hands to cover he open mouth, eyes wide, making sure she doesn’t miss anything. 

“Bravo!” she stands up and removes her hands from her mouth, clapping them together in an attempt to convey her admiration for Yaguchi. 

And so, the first act ends, the curtain is drawn, allowing the backstage staff to work on changing the décor. The next scene is about breaking in Coppéllius house.  

“It might not look like it, but this is hard...” she says, looking straight ahead at the podium. “Damn, Yaguchi... I took my eyes off you for one moment and you’ve improved this much.” 

Yotasuke listens to her, not sure how he could contribute to this conversation. He doesn’t understand the real difficulties about ballet. But it is true, those variations, jumps, steps, hops... despite looking like they are easy, they aren’t, this is the beauty of ballet. They are athletes. Yet they are artists.  

As for the Second Act, there isn’t a lot for Yaguchi to do. He is taken captive by Coppelius and lies flat on a chair until... 

Did Ogihara just kiss Yaguchi?! 

This is the reverse Sleeping Beauty, everyone...  

Well, they are supposed to be lovers.  

And the Third Act, that is about their marriage. The shortest one in this version, cutting out a lot of characters in Petit’s version, but without destroying the harmony. 

“Amazing,” Yotasuke huffs, standing up among the people, clapping for the hardworking students. As mentioned before, ballet is a form of art without words. You have to make the story understandable through your body movements, thus, even a slight mouth twitch, or finger bend, can alter the narrative.  

The two remain in the room, clapping for the dancers that are presented on stage as the performance ended. Did Yaguchi just look at him? Can he even recognize him through the sea of people? He isn’t even tall enough for that... However Yatora did mention once something about an ‘anchor’.

“Let’s go,” she takes his hand, dragging him through the sea of people that were also heading towards the exit. Instead of going straight to the cloakroom to recuperate their clothes, she is walking on the same lateral hallway Yaguchi took him on a few months ago to meet up with Maki when she was on Swan Lake.  

“Here,” she opens the room. 

“Isn’t this supposed to be a dressing room?” he asks, knowing the last time he wasn’t allowed to penetrate the said room. 

“Huh? No...?” she says, confused about Yotasuke’s statement. “It’s the dressing rooms section.” He follows her through the door, getting his confirmation.  

He looks around, a small but wide hall with rooms on the right side. Most of them are open, leading to shared dressing rooms used by the students. There are a lot of students. And parents.  

Yotasuke’s eyes wander around, until he sees him. Hunched down, in the arms of a black-haired woman. His mother.  

He is a mommy’s boy  

“Good evening,” Maki greets his friend and his mother.  

“Good evening,” Yotasuke copies her, trying to act normal. His boyfriend’s mother is there, and first impressions are important.   

“Hello, Maki-chan,” she reaches out her hand, caressing her cheek. 

“Is he the one?” she asks Yaguchi, lowering her voice but not enough. 

The one  

Yaguchi nods and she turns her attention towards Yotasuke, smiling at him. Damn, that’s where Yaguchi got his smile. 

“Good evening, Yotasuke-kun.” 

“G-Good evening,” he repeats, bowing as low as his lack of mobility allows him. He suddenly forgets how he is supposed to act around people, scared he could do something wrong in front of Mrs. Yaguchi.  

She puts her hand over his shoulder, making him lift his torso and face her. “Yakkun told me a lot about you, you should pay us a visit,” she says, continuing to smile.  

He nods, more energetically than his leftover life force could allow. “Yes, I will.” Yotasuke is too caught up into his interaction with Yaguchi’s mother to notice Yatora’s facial expression, pitying him.  

She holds her son’s face, bringing him into a cheek kiss. “You’re staying?” she asks, knowing how important this performance was and how, after every important performance there must be celebration.  

“Mhm,” he says, “see you tomorrow, mom.” 

“Take care, dear,” she says, tapping his cheek one more time before stepping next to Yotasuke. She taps his shoulder and casts him one last smile before she leaves the same door he and Maki infiltrated through. 

As soon as she exited, Maki throws herself at Yaguchi. Ogihara and Kamiyama, wearing fuzzy socks join them.  

Yotasuke would like to ask about those socks, but he remembers the last time he asked something genuine he was made fun of by Fumi. Never do a mistake twice. Besides, he can figure it out himself, it’s not a mystery.  

“I only came to congratulate you guys, you were really stunning, all the hard work is paying off,” she says, breaking apart from Yaguchi and hugging the other two girls.  

“Aww, don’t cry, Yakkun,” Kamiyama mocks him for the way his mother calls him. “You did good. More than good. Really sexy.” 

I agree  

“Oh, and not to mention that kiss,” Maki mischievously grins.  

“It was the director that insisted,” Ogihara defends herself. She was not interested in Yaguchi, or any other male. And she has a girlfriend.  

“Yeeaah, sure,” Maki continues to joke, elbowing the girl. 

“It was kind of hot,” Yotasuke breaks into the conversation. His scandalous affirmation and his contrasting, detached manner of saying it, stirred way more attention than he expected. 

They were all joking, why are they acting like that out of blue? 

At first, Maki and Kamiyama’s faces contort, widening their eyes and trying to keep their mouth closed. Maki slaps her thigh in a desperate attempt to keep herself from laughing. Despite all the thick makeup, Ogihara was all red. Not just her face, it was going down her neck and bust. Kamiyama can’t contain herself and bursts into laughter, not caring that she was loud. And then there’s Yaguchi, hands over his face, thinking he could become invisible if he didn’t see anyone anymore.  

Yotasuke, you did it. You spent so much time with Yaguchi that you adopted his manner of speech.   

Maki breathes in, then out, trying to keep serious. 

“Body conditioning, guys,” one woman appears from another room. Kamiyama’s loud shrieking must’ve caught her attention.  

“See you in thirty?”  

“Mhm.” 

“You good?” Yotasuke closes his Switch and stands up from his usual seat inside the Tokyo Opera City lobby.  

“Yep,” Yaguchi clicks his tongue, shaking his feet. “Tired as hell.” 

“It’s okay, we only need to take the train and then we’re home, and you can rest,” Yaguchi takes Yotasuke’s hand, going out of the building.  

“You were really good,” Yotasuke says, resting his head on Yaguchi’s shoulder.  Yaguchi squeezes his hand as a form of thank you. He was just too exhausted to talk anymore.  

The two make their way through the train station, just the usual. They embark the usual train and sit on the usual seats that are surprisingly empty most of the times.  

“Rest you head on my shoulder,” Yotasuke says, noticing Yaguchi’s tired expression. “You were marvelous, your dancing was perfect and the way that costume was sitting on your body, you can’t understand how attractive you are to me when you dance,” Yotasuke whispers in Yaguchi’s ear, trying to help him relax. He swipes his hand under Yaguchi’s armpit, rubbing the side of his waist, enjoying Yaguchi's weight on him that was slowly falling asleep. Yotasuke kisses the top of his head, trying to stay silent so Yaguchi can get a little rest.  

The little nap and the weather outside of the Ueno train station seemed enough to refreshen Yaguchi. The two are holding hands, looking around at the neon street lights whose glow falls on the tree leaves and bushes. They pass groups of students, late night workers, friends hanging out late, heading towards Yotasuke’s little apartment.  

“I’m home!” he announces the cat, coming straight to him, attacking his jeans. He looks around, her bowls still has food and water. He lifts her and moves the cat to her bed.  

> 

Yaguchi interlaces his arms around Yotasuke’s waist, pressing his head against the smaller boy’s. Yotasuke understands the cue and turns his head, pressing his lips on Yaguchi’s. He turns his body, pulling Yaguchi in deeper. Their tongues dip into each other’s mouth, fighting for dominance. Yotasuke can feel Yatora’s desperation, so he allows him to win this time, giving him control over this kiss.  

Yatora cups his face while Yotasuke’s hands run over Yaguchi’s baggy hoodie, trying to make out the shape of his waist.  

Did he just...  

Bit his lip?  

This is enough of a stimulus for Yotasuke to lift Yaguchi’s hoodie, breaking away from the kiss to throw it on the floor. Yaguchi follows his movements, tugging at his shirt’s material, silently asking him to remove it. Yotasuke discharges on the floor, crashing his lips over Yaguchi’s and running his hands over his chest and back. He likes the way Yaguchi’s muscles contract under his touch, not in a defensive mechanism but shivering with anticipation. It makes him feel powerful. 

Yaguchi plants his hands over Yotasuke’s waist, squeezing it and bringing him closer. Meanwhile, Yotasuke’s hands travel lower, trying something he wanted for a while.  

Aah...  

That dancer ass  

He gropes Yaguchi’s ass over the jeans, followed by a spank. In response, Yaguchi sighs into the kiss. He lifts Yotasuke up and presses his body against the wall and pins his hands sideways, cutting out Yotasuke’s access to his butt. Yotasuke encircles his legs around Yaguchi’s waist, assuring his safety, as if Yaguchi would’ve let him fall. Ballet dancers might look small, but they are pretty strong.  

And so, in this position, he can feel his hardening member rubbing against Yaguchi’s. He pulls out of the kiss, and Yaguchi lets go of his hands, allowing him to regain his movements autonomy while his feet hit the floor. Yotasuke’s hands reach out to Yatora’s pants, however there’s no movement. His fingers are holding onto the hem of the jeans while he lifts his head, looking into Yatora’s eyes. 

“May I...?” he tugs one more time at his jeans, finishing the sentence with his actions instead of words. “Tell me if I need to stop.” 

Yaguchi doesn’t answer but nods, not breaking any eye contact.  

“Words, Yatora, no nodding counts this time,” Yotasuke insists, not wanting to interpret the wrong thing or to push Yaguchi into something it was too early for him. 

“Yes, yes,” Yaguchi pants and nods erratically. Yotasuke smirks, happy his boyfriend wanted it as bad as he did. He unbuttons Yaguchi’s pants and takes them off before reaching for his own, dismissing them on the floor. 

He presses his lips over Yaguchi’s neck, sucking on a specific spot, feeling his lover’s dick twitch under his touch. He leads Yaguchi towards the beds where he sits on his lap. He bends forwards, falling over Yaguchi’s body, digging his hands in the platinum hair, tugging at it.  

This gains him another whine that drive him insane. He can feel his cock drip, expecting some more action. He pulls back, breathing heavily, trying to memorize the view. 

Yaguchi under him was a sight he couldn’t not enjoy.  

He drifts the tip of his fingers over Yatora’s pecs, down on his abdomen, feeling the small contractions, moving lower to his underwear, where he... stops. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he breathes out, looking into Yaguchi’s golden eyes filled with lust with a sincere facial expression that read ‘words only, no nodding’. 

“God, yes!” Yatora groans, trying to contain his pent-up sexual tension. Yotasuke drags the boxers down his thighs. He lifts his pelvis, allowing Yotasuke to remove them completely. While at it, Yotasuke notices Yaguchi is still wearing his socks. 

So, he really is a weirdo that sleeps and has sex with his socks on  

He chuckles for a moment before returning his attention on Yaguchi’s thriving dick. Yotasuke locks eyes with Yatora again, reaching out with one hand and griping his member. Yaguchi takes in a sharp breath, his head falling back on the pillows. 

Yotasuke lowers his head, blowing on the tip and gaining another moan from the dancer. He takes his tongue out and licks the underside of Yaguchi’s dick, from the base to the tip. He stops for a moment, giving the tip two licks, teasing Yaguchi that was already sweating and whining, asking for more.  

He lets some of his spit to come out of his month, letting it drip on the tip of his cock. He lifts his hand that was still holding it and massages the tip, making Yaguchi bite his lip, holding back his moans, afraid not to be too loud. His hips thrust forward, expectantly. Yotasuke puts his hands around them, keeping them in place.  

“Don’t hold back, I want to hear you,” Yotasuke whispers into his ear before returning to his cock. He makes sure Yaguchi is watching him when he tugs his lips, taking his dick inside his mouth.  

Yotasuke bobs back and forward, trying to engulf more of Yaguchi’s dick with every movement. Yatora seems to forget he exists for a moment, lost into the sight of Yotasuke sucking on him. However, he tries to keep his senses and reaches down to Yotasuke’s head, holding back his bangs so they don’t bother him or cover his face. He needs to engrave this sight deep into his memory.  

His dick hits the back of Yotasuke’s mouth, making him moan. He sees Yotasuke’s hand reaching lower, fishing out his own cock from his underwear and stroking himself.  

Yotasuke bobs one more time, sucking on his dick and letting it go with one pop sound. He lifts his body, letting their dicks touch each other. Yotasuke breaks away the eye contact, looking at the ceiling when he feels their members rubbing.  

Yaguchi stands up, pulling Yotasuke closer, kissing his mouth between hot breathes. He runs his hands over Yotasuke’s body. Yotasuke grasps the two cocks with one hand and anchors himself on Yaguchi’s shoulder with the other. Yaguchi continues to listen to his lover’s panting, nearing his orgasm.  

He lets go of one groan, ejaculating into Yotasuke’s hand, followed by the other boy, loudly moaning his name. Yotasuke continues to grip Yaguchi’s dick, stroking him through his orgasm, grasping for air.  

The two sit like that for a moment, trying to catch their breath and come back to their senses. Yaguchi kissed Yotasuke softly, his lips, his cheek, his chin, earlobe, neck. Yotasuke inhales, feeling his aftershocks and pressing his lips over Yatora’s.  

“I’ll get you a towel,” he says, leaving Yaguchi’s lap to go to the bathroom where he wipes the cum from his hand.  

“Thank you,” Yaguchi catches the towel Yotasuke threw at him from the bathroom, not sure if he was even thanking him for the towel in the first place.  

The smaller boy returns to the main area, climbing onto the bed, back to Yaguchi lap. He sets one leg on each side of his pelvis, his ass rubbing on Yaguchi’s dick. He kisses him one more time before standing up and asking: 

“Can you go one more round?” looking at Yaguchi’s eyes, then his lips, back to his eyes, then his chest. He reaches down, griping his pecs and playing with them, making Yaguchi slowly lose focus again.  

“Mhm,” Yatora manages to say, trying not to get too lost on Yotasuke’s hands over him. Or that they were both naked. Or that Yotasuke’s dick was right in front of him.  

Yotasuke bends sideways, searching for something inside the nightstand. He fetches out a bottle and an aluminum packet.  

“Touch me,” he urges Yaguchi, taking his hand and placing it over his own chest. He takes the bottle and coats his other hand with the viscous liquid.  

“You sure, sure?” Yotasuke asks once again. Once you go with it you can’t go back.  

“Shut up already,” Yaguchi crashes his lips on Yotasuke’s, silencing him. He slides his lube coated fingers over Yotasuke’s hole, massaging the area before he could slip in one finger.  

He feels Yotasuke’s pitched breath, stopping for a moment so the boy can accommodate to the foreign feeling.  

Yaguchi, you are too turned on to notice the bottle is already half finished  

He inserts a second finger, biting into Yotasuke’s lower lip and savoring his reactions. He drags his lip, looking at him with half lidded eyes. He moves his mouth towards the boy’s neck, sucking on multiple places and soothing them with his tongue.  

Yotasuke hold into Yatora’s back, eyes closed, trying to absorb every feeling. The tongue on his neck, the fingers inside him, his hardening member. He whimpers, letting go of the tension.  

“You know, I really meant it, that kiss was really hot,” he whispers inside Yaguchi’s ear, feeling his cock twitch against his ass.  

“That’s because I imagined it was you the one I was kissing,” Yaguchi continues Yotasuke’s dirty talk, enjoying the experience.  

Yotasuke lowers his head, brushing his tongue over Yaguchi’s lips, asking him to open his month so he can dig his tongue inside. Yatora’s month is hot, and he rubs his tongue over his. He reaches sideways, picking up the little packet his left there earlier. 

“Do you know how to put it?” he asks, catching up his breath, but moaning when Yaguchi finally founds the spot. 

“Oh? Do you like it here?” he brushes over Yotasuke’s prostate once again, making the boy fall over his chest. However, he picks up the condom from Yotasuke’s hand and slowly retires his fingers, making sure he was allowing Yotasuke to adapt.  

Yotasuke moves away, allowing Yaguchi to drag the condom over his hard dick. Yatora picks up the lube bottle and covers the cock with it, stroking himself, making sure he is still hard. Yotasuke then sets himself over Yatora once again.  

He grips his member, aligning it with his opening. He looks at Yaguchi once again, locking eyes. He puts his hand over his pelvis, just in case Yaguchi can’t control his reflex, and starts to lower himself, groaning at the feeling.  

It's tight  

Yatora is engrossed in Yotasuke’s face expressions and the squeeze around his dick. He tries to keep his hips in place, allowing Yotasuke to advance at the speed he was comfortable with. Filled up, Yotasuke closes his eyes, accommodating to the feeling.  

“Hurt?” Yaguchi asks, checking if he wasn’t doing anything wrong.  

Yotasuke opens his eyes, looking down at Yaguchi. He shakes his head, bending forward and smashing his lips on Yaguchi’s. He slowly starts to lift his hips, bouncing on Yatora’s dick. He stays at a painful slow pace, lacking the physical power to move faster. 

“May I try something?” Yaguchi asks. Yotasuke nods, understanding what he meant by that. Yatora shifts them without breaking apart, throwing Yotasuke on the bed so he can be on top and pound into him faster.  

At first Yatora stays with a steady pace, making sure he wasn’t hurting Yotasuke, slowly searching for the same spot he was hitting earlier. He finds it, earning him a series of moans. However, they were growing hungrier with each thrust, lusting for each other to hit their peak. 

Yotasuke reaches towards Yaguchi with his hands, asking him to be embraced.  

“Fuuck baby...” he huffs, digging his nails into Yotasuke’s back and bringing him closer. “You’re so beautiful...” 

Baby? I guess we could jump to pet names now  

Yotasuke lets out of a groan when Yatora’s hand grasps his neglected cock, stroking it and bringing him closer.  

“I’m coming,” he cries out, feeling the pent-up pressure inside this lower abdomen, ejaculating on Yaguchi’s hand and his stomach.  

Yaguchi thrusts a few more times, panting and fucking Yotasuke through his orgasm while he was also hitting his, falling down on Yotasuke’s body and trying to catch his breath.  

The two look at each other, breathing heavily with parted lips. Yaguchi rubs his nose on Yotasuke’s, giving him an Eskimo kiss.  

“That was amazing,” he says, trying to control his breathing.  

Yotasuke’s fingertips caress Yatora’s back while he was looking at his lover’s tired expression.  

“Okay, easy, easy,” Yatora says, lifting Yotasuke off the mattress. He implants his hand on Yaguchi’s shoulder, balancing his weight while Yaguchi was slowly pulling out of him. “You good?” Yaguchi asks, making sure the experience was just as pleasurable for his boyfriend as it was for him. 

Yotasuke sits there, looking through Yaguchi, tired, but he finds the power to nod. “Yes, I liked it, very much... because it was with you...” he adds, making Yaguchi stop his action. He was knotting the condom, ready to throw it in the trash.  

“Look who’s the cheesy one this time,” he says with a soft smile, happy that Yotasuke was feeling the same.  

The boy on the sofa reaches for the towel in a hopeless attempt to clean himself, knowing very well he needs a shower after this. He tries to stand up, however his thighs tremble for a moment, making his movements shaky. 

“Got you,” Yaguchi comes to help him. He was wearing his underwear. “Shower?” 

“Yatora, you’re  not  washing my body,” Yotasuke musters the energy to say it. He will do it even if he has to crawl on all four. 

“However you want, I’m changing the sheets then,” he lets go of Yotasuke’s body, heading towards the drawer the boy pointed towards, where he could find fresh sheets. 

<

For the first time, Yotasuke wakes up before Yaguchi. He lifts one hand and rubs the inner corners of his eyes, trying to get a clear image of what is in front of him. And to be honest, nothing could’ve prepared Yotasuke for this sight.  

Yaguchi isn’t necessarily the one to frown a lot, but even so, his calm facial expression while sleeping is truly angelic. His cheek is squished against his arm and his lips are parted, breathing in and out periodically. Somehow even his hair looks neater when he is asleep.  

Yotasuke reaches out, brushing one hair strand away from his lover’s eyes, careful so he doesn’t wake him up. He'd like to sit like that and admire him for longer. Imprint the sight inside his mind, along the memories from the past evening. The duality of this man is breathtaking. Duality? Can you even resume Yaguchi to two things? He's a wonderful dancer, an amazing lover, a beautiful person... Nope, duality isn’t exactly the word for him... 

Yotasuke shifts in the bed, removing his intertwined leg from Yaguchi’s, turning on the other side of the bed and facing... 

Fumi 

Sitting on his nightstand and looking at him. He shoos her away, picking up his phone and trying to see how late it was. A little past 7:30AM.  

He eyes the cat, silently saying ‘it’s not that late, stop being a drama queen’ and trying to stand up so he can go and fill her bowl. He can feel the aftermath. His thighs are trembling when he takes a step. Eventually he makes it to the kitchen area and back to her bowl, crouching down and letting the kibbles hit the dish. 

“Morning,” Yaguchi hunches over him, hugging Yotasuke from behind. He was wearing only a pair of sweatpants.  

“Morning,” Yotasuke replies, putting the cat food bag away and hugging Yatora back. Unlike the other one, he was wearing proper clothing, short pants and a t-shirt. “Slept well?” he says, breaking apart and lifting the bag with the intent of replacing it to the right place.  

“Mhm,” Yatora replies, lifting his arms over his head and stretching his body. Yotasuke’s eyes try not to linger for too long, pressing his lips into a thin line and focusing on getting a glass of water. Yatora rubs his eyes one more time before fumbling around, heading to his dance bag and taking out his eyeglasses case. 

Sheesh 

Yotasuke really doesn’t want to look at Yaguchi now, too afraid his legs might give up for real. 

“What’s that?” Yotasuke asks about the object yaguchi was picking up from his bag.  

“Meet,” he lifts it and throws it in the air, “my best friend.” 

“Yatora, it’s a tennis ball,” Yotasuke says, putting down the glass of water and heading back to his bad.  

Yaguchi gasps loudly and puts his hand around the said ball, as if he was covering its imaginary ears. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Yaguchi whispers, he really considers the ball a human being.  

Yotasuke rolls his eyes, amused by the acting Yatora was putting up for him. “What are you doing with a tennis ball? I doubt this place is even a quarter of a tennis court.” 

“This,” Yaguchi lets the ball of the floor and puts his foot over it, rolling the sole of his foot. “It’s good for relaxing your ligaments in the foot. Or you can do this,” he lifts the ball and sets it on the wall, pressing his back against it and moving. He stops the example and returns to rolling his foot.  

“It’s good for calves, thighs or shoulders too, when you have nothing else on the hand, it’s universal,” Yaguchi monologues his love for this ball.  

“You do this every day?” Yotasuke asks, scrolling through his phone.  

“Yep.” 

“For how long?” 

“Around two hours.” 

Yotasuke’s hands stop for a moment, lifting his eyes to look at Yaguchi, stunned about the information. “Damn, being a dancer is rough.” 

“Not only dancers use this, but every athlete should also roll, actually, everyone should, your muscles get very tight even if you only sit down all day, which can lead to joint pain or lack of mobility,” Yaguchi moves the ball to his other foot.  

“I’m not spending two hours a day to play with a ball,” he says, thinking about how much of a wasted time it would be.  

“Of course not, but doing it from time to time, even once a week or every two weeks, would be very benefic for you,” Yaguchi continues to move the ball over his foot.  

Yotasuke doesn’t continue the subject, thinking this could be enough for this morning. He picks up the TV remote and turns it on for background noise, not listening to what the host was saying. Yaguchi goes to the middle of the room, pushing the little table sideways and starts to swing his legs forward and sideways, warming up.  

“You don’t have classes today?” he asks Yotasuke that was still laying in bed. 

“You want to get rid of me that easily?” Yotasuke asks, scrolling through his social media.  

“No...?” 

“Of course not, who wouldn’t like to spend time with this?” he lifts his shirt, revealing his chest, tempting Yaguchi. “I don’t have classes today, it’s Saturday dummy,” he replies, finally standing up and picking his cover. He folds it and tosses it aside, so his bed doesn’t look that disastrous anymore.  

Yaguchi lowers his legs, his crotch slowly touching the ground and folding forwards and backwards on each side, creating the illusion his whole body is just one thick line. His glasses are casted on the table so they don’t fall and break.  

“Looks painful,” Yotasuke notices, analyzing his movements. Yaguchi can do a lot of things that seem impossible, and with a smile on his face besides that. 

“It used to be,” Yatora replies, changing positions to middle splits, “training helps.”  

“Coffee?” Yotasuke offers, trying to be of help since he didn’t have to stretch for two hours like Yaguchi. 

“Please.” 

“Milk and no sugar?” Yotasuke asks, making sure he memories Yatora’s coffee the right way.  

“Yep.” 

“We need to go to the grocery store afterwards, I almost ran out of...” he looks around his empty fridge, “everything.” 

“You like porridge?” he asks, ready to cook breakfast for Yaguchi.  

“Porridge is fine,” he stands up, bending sideways, touching his foot with one hand and reaching to the ceiling with the other. Triangle pose.  

Yotasuke occupies himself with the kitchen, leaving Yatora alone he can focus on his movements. He hopes yatora like porridge the same way he does. He has cooked it for himself for every breakfast for the past two years. Should he change this habit? I mean, porridge is good but repeating it like that could get... boring? But choosing another meal takes away time from your day, time you could use differently, like for gaming. Nah, porridge is good.  

He puts some milk in the pan, allowing it to heat up before adding the oats. He then sets the fire on low, so the oats don’t overflow. Make sure you mix in often, breaking away the starch and creating a thick consistency. He picks up a bag of seeds and throws some of them into the mixture, adding in some healthy fats along the carbs from the oats and the protein from the milk.  

After setting them in different bowls, Yotasuke takes a bag of frozen blueberries from the freezer and throws some of them on top. They’re sweet and help cool down the dish faster. He picks up two hot pads and sets them on the little table from the main area, so the bowls don’t leave imprints on it. He returns with the bowls, making sure he doesn’t burn his fingers.  

He crouches down, facing Yaguchi with an innocent expression, despite Yaguchi being back into his downward dog Yoga position. The one where your ass is up, and your head is low.  

“The food is done,” he says, he smiles with wide eyes, before returning to the kitchen to fetch the coffee mugs.  

“Thank you,” Yatora picks up what seems to be his own coffee – because it was lighter, meaning it has milk, unlike Yotasuke’s. He presses his lips against Yotasuke’s, giving him a quick peck before sitting down on the floor so he can eat. He puts his eyeglasses back on his nose and waits for Yotasuke to join him before he can dig in. 
“Thank you for the food!” Yaguchi days, folloed by a quieter Yotasuke.

“Hope you don’t have any allergies for seeds,” Yotasuke says sitting down. “Because I put some in.” 

“No, I don’t have any allergies,” Yaguchi assures him, taking a spoonful. “Mhm, this is good!” 

Yotasuke smiles, glad his boyfriend liked it. He had enough practice to perfect this dish.  

Fumi comes in, sniffing the smell of food. “No blueberries for her,” Yotasuke warns Yaguchi. “She's not allergic or something, but her white fur is a pain to keep clean.” 

“Got it,” Yatora replies, throwing the melted blueberry into his mouth and letting a spoonful of the oats fit the floor, sharing his food with the cat. Yotasuke looks at the two, feeling his heart pitter-patter at his boyfriend’s gentleness.  

"Take this," Yatora takes out a bottle from his dance bag. "It's foundation we use for stage makeup, full coverage."

Yotasuke looks at him, a little confused.

"For your...uhm..." he points at his neck, warning Yotasuke about the dark spots before they leave the house. He doubts Yotasuke would want to go out like that and notice back at home.

Yotasuke's eyes widen and he lifts his fingers. trying to feel if he has any bruises. He looks away, blushing and accepting Yatora's bottle. 

“You like seed bread a lot, Yotasuke,” Yaguchi notices when Yotasuke fills and entire paper bag with it.  

“Mhm, quick meal, you only have to bite it,” Yotasuke sets the said bread in the cart.  

“It’s not a meal, a meal has vitamins,” Yaguchi counters Yotasuke’s affirmation. 

“It is a meal when you suck at cooking,” Yotasuke laughs, stepping in front and heading towards to fruits and vegetables area, to get some of those ‘vitamins’ Yaguchi was mentioning.  

“Is there any difference between a green and a yellow zucchini?” Yotasuke asks, picking one of each and analyzing them. 

“The color,” Yatora replies, pushing the shopping cart closer. “The taste is the same.” 

“Mmm, colorful blandness,” Yotasuke jokes, but knowing he likes that blandness anyway. He sets two green zucchinis inside the cart and one red bell pepper with it. 

He continues to pick different items that he thinks he could use for the following days. There's a sale for wet cat food that he can’t miss. Well, Fumi can’t miss. She deserves a treat for... she didn’t do anything special. She deserves a treat for existing.  

The two arrive at the miscellaneous area. A place with different stuff that is not food. Such as the drill that Yaguchi picked up. 

“Brrr,” he imitates the real thing, creating an imaginary hole inside yotasuke’s chest. 

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing inside,” Yotasuke jokes, saying he doesn’t have a heart. Yatora gives him a flat face, not believing him. Both anatomically and emotionally. And then he moves next to the following item. An ugly bucket hat that he puts on top of his head. 

Yotasuke looks at him fooling around. He's that kind of person huh, that likes to spend time aimlessly in the grocery store. It's alright. He's cute so he can do whatever he wants. 

“It looks like you!” Yaguchi picks up a plushie.  

Yotasuke looks at it then back at Yaguchi, holding his hands behind. “How do I look like a rabbit, Yatora?” he asks, rising one eyebrow but amused by the interaction. 

“You’re both squishy!” 

“You’re calling me fat?” 

Yatora’s face freezes for a moment, reconsidering his words. “No, not like that! You're not fat and even if you where it wouldn’t be a problem for me!” he tries to undo what he has said, tossing the toy back into the place he picked up from and putting his hands over Yotasuke’s shoulders, trying to convey his sincerity. 

Yotasuke laughs, Yaguchi has such big reactions when he is embarrassed. He takes his hand and lets him towards the checkout, picking one of those bunny toys on the way. 

“We need to make one more stop,” Yatora says, picking the bags for Yotasuke.  

Why didn’t you say that before we went to the grocery store, so we don’t have to carry these somewhere else?  

Yatora heads towards the sports store, followed by Yotasuke. 

“You need new shoes?” Yotasuke asks, confused about what would Yaguchi need from there.  

“Oh no, no, I get fitted for shoes,” he says, looking around, trying to find the right aisle. “Your shoes need to be the perfect size, if it’s too tight it could stop your blood flow, if it’s too large it could hinder your movements, ending up wounded nonetheless,” he adds, finally spotting what he was looking for. “So size needs to be personalized and you can’t just trust the store ones that are more generalized.”  

Yotasuke stands next to the aisle, waiting for Yaguchi to return. He is analyzing the information he was just given. Damn, being a dancer really is rough.  

“I’m getting these,” he says, returning with a black spiked tube and a yoga mat. 

“What’s that?” Yotasuke asks Yaguchi at home about the peculiar object he picked up at the sports store. 

He tosses it at Yotasuke, allowing him to analyze it. He tries to stick his finger into it, and surprisingly enough, it works with a little resistance. It has a smooth, rubbery texture. 

“Foam roller,” Yaguchi replies, laying on the floor and playing with Fumi.  

“Ah.” 

“What is it used for?” he asks after a break. Did Yaguchi think he knew what’s this if he told him the name when he couldn’t recognize the real object?  

“Same thing as the ball, but wider,” he says, letting Fumi go and enjoy her wet food and picking the roller from Yotasuke’s arms. He puts it down and sits sideways, showing Yotasuke how to roll his thigh. 

“Want to try?” he offers, standing up. Yotasuke looks a little skeptical at it but agrees, following Yaguchi’s instructions. He sets the tube on the floor under the side of his thigh, putting his entire bodyweight on it. 

Fuck  

Yaguchi starts to laugh when Yotasuke realizes how it feels.  

“Damn, this shit hurts!” he says, standing up. That tube is cursed.  

Yaguchi chuckles one more time, “Yeah, the IT band is actually the worse,” he explains. “Try it for you back.” 

He sets it under Yotasuke’s shoulder blades. “Lifts your hips and put your entire weight on it.” the smaller boy follows his advice. 

What the hell  

His spine cracks like a fireplace. “Should I be alarmed by this?” 

“Not really,” Yaguchi replies, giggling at Yotasuke’s reaction to stretching. “Wait, wait, don’t do it over your lower back, never roll your lower back,” he says, correcting Yotasuke’s form so he doesn’t injure himself.  

“How does it feel?” he asks, looking down at his boyfriend that was confused about what he was doing. 

“I don’t know?” he replies. It wasn’t painful but it wasn’t orgasm inducing either.  

Yatora chuckles one more time, lowering his head and kissing Yotasuke upside down. Yotasuke stands up, picking up the roller. “Where do I put it?” he asks, looking towards Yatora’s bag. 

“Wherever you have space, I got it for your place, I have enough of these at home,” he says, “the mat too, I don’t want to slip on you floor,” he explains the reason he bought it.  

“Alright,” Yotasuke puts it away, he will think about it later. 

“Do use it from time to time, though, but never roll over your joints.” 

“Go it,” Yotasuke crawls next to Yaguchi, kissing him.  

“You’re coming over for dinner?” Yaguchi asks, reminding Yotasuke about his mother. He doesn’t reply immediately, taking his time to think about it. He just had sex with Yaguchi last night, would it be okay for him to see his family like that? 

“Okay...” he replies, looking at Yaguchi’s lips.  

“Good, I’ll text her then,” Yatora fishes his phone to let his mother know there will be another person over tonight. Yotasuke takes off his glasses, putting them on the little table before pressing his lips against Yatora’s.  

Chapter Text

“So, what are you doing, Yotasuke-kun?”  

“I’m a student at the University of Tokyo,” he says, trying to keep his anxiety under control. “Oil painting.” 

“The acceptance rates are extremely low,” Yaguchi intervenes, trying to help Yotasuke. “And he ended up with top grades from the Center Exam!”  

His mother raises her eyebrows at that. She didn’t need all these information, she was trusting Yatora on choosing his partner, but she wasn’t complaining. Yotasuke is polite and smart. He must be quite the character if he made Yatora fall for him.  

“Congratulations, dear,” she says with a warm and genuine voice. Yotasuke smiles a little, her warmth makes him relax. Yatora did inherit the personality from her.  

“It’s good your parents support your passion,” his father joins the conversation. He isn’t very different from Yotasuke’s own father. He doesn’t speak a lot either, but there’s this friendly aura about him that his biological parent lacks. “We did the same for Yatora when he told us he wants to dance,” he slaps his son’s back.  

He's a really good dancer, isn’t he?  

“Are you drinking?” his father offers him a can of beer. Yotasuke isn’t very keen on alcohol, we mentioned that before, but for the sake of not coming off rude he accepts the man’s offer.  

“Don’t tease him, dad,” Yaguchi comes in, laughing at Yotasuke’s nervousness. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” 

Yotasuke nods, trying to allow his facial expression to relax. He keeps on holding the can, playing with his fingers around it.

“What about you?” Yotasuke starts, afraid not to break an imaginary wall. But isn’t this what he should be doing? Create conversation? 

“Dad owns a store and mom is a housewife,” Yatora replies for his parents.  

“What kind of store?” Yotasuke continues the chat, trying to show some interest in Yatora’s parents.  

To everyone’s bliss, the conversation runs smoothly. Yotasuke learns about Mr. Yaguchi’s interest for baseball, promising him they will go to one match together. His mother is very friendly, making his stress slowly fade away with every question.  

He reveals about his family too. How his father side are Opera singers. Well, not his father, his father works finances for, well, an Opera company...  and his mother side is all about ballet. His cousin is a prima ballerina principal for The Tokyo Ballet, and he has other members practicing it outside of Japan too, international stars.

Yotasuke’s eyes catch attention of his own painting, hanged on top of the coach. His lips slightly curve upwards. 

He doesn’t know very well where he sees himself later in life, but he’d like to imagine Yatora will be a part of it nonetheless. Even if that means he must continue to attend those dance theaters...  

“Your parents are very nice,” Yotasuke says. He sits on Yaguchi’s bed, staying over for a little longer before they part ways.  

“I’m glad you liked them,” Yaguchi cradles Yotasuke. “They seem to like you too.”  

Yotasuke smiles at the implications of that sentence.  

Looking around, he tries to make out Yaguchi’s personality from what his room looks like. There isn’t anything special, maybe the dancing mat left on the ground. But that’s a staple for every dancer, he remembers his cousin having one too when she was a teenager. There is a pilates ball next to his desk, and a pair of funny looking boots. He'll ask about those another time. He also sees the portrait of Yaguchi he did before the Geidai exam hanged on the wall. 

What catches his attention again is the piece of paper on his wall. The same as the first time Yotasuke was there.  

“What’s that?” he musters the courage to ask, thinking this time he could bring it up.  

A pencil sketch of an angel.   

“My senpai gave it to me when she graduated middle school,” he starts to ramble about the drawing, “she said it’s a prayer to help me succeed with my dancing,” he kisses Yotasuke’s temple, swinging their bodies slowly. 

“She liked to draw these...” he rotates his hand, trying to remember the word, “angels, but like, from Greek mythology,” he ends up replacing the word with something that explains it. 

“Is that Nike?” Yotasuke understands what Yatora meant.  

“Yes!”  

“A goddess who personifies victory in any field including art, music, war, and athletics,” Yotasuke explains the meaning behind Nike. He stands up, approaching the drawing. 

“She draws very well,” he notices. The anatomy is good, the pose is executed well, there is some cordial feelings you get when you look at this sketch. 

“She’s also an art student!” he says, joining Yotasuke next to his desk.  

His eyebrows rise, art student? “Where?”  

“Uuuhhm,” Yatora looks up, trying to remember if he knows the name. “Don’t know, let me check,” he fetches his phone and starts scrolling. “Mu-Musahino!”  

“Musabi so,” Yotasuke returns his attention to the drawing. Yaguchi just finished highschool, that means he kept this drawing for a very long time.  

“Do you want me to walk you to the station?” Yatora offers. 

“No, it’s okay,” Yotasuke refuses, sinking his hands inside the hoodie. “Besides you still have to complete those two hours of stretching,” he mocks Yaguchi for his exaggerated routine. 

“You know what? You're right,” he points his finger guns at Yotasuke, playing along with the joke. Yotasuke smirks at his foolishness. Yatora lifts his hand, letting it linger on Yotasuke’s face for a little before bending down and kissing him goodbye. 

“Take care,” he says. 

“Will do, you rest up! You worked a lot lately!” Yotasuke says, turning on his heels. By work he didn’t mean only dance. 

He makes his way through the darkness, guided only by the familiar shaped buildings and the artificial city light. He allows someone to exit the building before he can go through the door. 

“Good evening, Takahashi-kun...” 

“Good evening,” he replies as a reflex. He lifts his eyes to see who has this person. Oh. It's Ayano Aizawa. 

The boy continues his walk up the stairs. He feels like he needs to move a little more before he gets inside where he will only sit down and play videogames. He arrives at the second floor, seeing Miki silently sitting down at the top of the stairs. 

“Good evening, Miki-san.” 

She lifts her eyes. There's something different about her tonight.  

“Good evening, Yotasuke-kun,” she starts. Her eyes look at the floor, trying to consider the possibility of further words. Yotasuke continues his climbing, nearing her. 

“I made apple pie, do you want some?” she tries, she never gives up. Her voice isn’t as energetic as usual, there are some melancholic undertones to it. 

Yotasuke stops for a moment, thinking about the options. “I’m sorry Miki-san, I can’t tonight,” he turns to the next set of stairs, climbing them with the intent of arriving home. He leaves Miki behind. Alone and wallowing in her own melancholy.  

“What... are you doing?” Yotasuke asks, feeling Yuka’s stare bore holes through him.  

“Watching,” she replies, turning her head to face him for a second before shifting back to the Switch screen.  

“Do... you want to... play?” Yotasuke offers, not understanding Yuka’s acting. She was laying on her tummy on the sofa while he was sitting on the floor, playing Pokémon.  

“Nope,” she shakes her head, continuing to stare into Yotasuke’s little screen, “I like to watch people play.” 

Yotasuke frowns, not understanding why that is. She fishes out her phone and shows Yotasuke a social media account of a girl. She's a streamer that plays video games that Yuka likes.  

“Ryuji, does your friend want snacks?” her mother creeps the door open. Yuka looks at Yotasuke waiting for an answer. 

“N-No, I’m fine, thank you,” he replies, facing Yuka’s mother. She closes the door, leaving the two alone.  

“So, how is it between you and Yatora?” she asks, abandoning Yotasuke’s game.  

“Uhm, good, I guess,” Yotasuke starts, not knowing if he could speak out loud what was inside his mind. “I met his family, they’re nice people.” 

“They’re the best,” Yuka cuts Yotasuke. “A real family,” she adds, thinking about how happy Yatora must be to have his parents.  

“Yeah, exactly....” Yotasuke agrees, trying to think over the next words. “I wish I could introduce him to mine too...” 

“Oh...” 

Yuka stands up, going to the piano and looking at the keyboard. She starts to hit notes. Is it the... Pokémon game theme? How did she memorize it just from watching Yotasuke play? 

“I kind of pity you,” she says, eyes down on the notes.  

“You’re the one who’s talking?” Yotasuke huffs. He closes the game and sets it inside the case. Yuka’s eyes shoot up, looking straight at him, not understanding why he was saying that. 

“Your parents won’t even respect your name...” he reveals the meaning behind his words. 

She stays silent, not knowing how she could respond to that. It's true. Her parents don’t see her for who she is. And it is painful to be forced to live inside their reality... 

She continues to play the instrument, switching to another theme Yotasuke cannot not recognize. 

“... I want to be... the very best,” he starts to spell the lyrics.  

“Like no one ever was,” she continues, starting to giggle and brighten up the mood.  

“To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause,” the two overlap their voices, creating a duet.  

“I will travel across the land, searching far and wide. Each Pokémon to understand, the power that’s inside.” 

“Pokémon! gotta catch ‘em all!” Yotasuke sings the main lyrics while Yuka supports him with the “It’s you and me.” 

“I know it’s my destiny,” they return to the duet. 

“Oh~, you’re my best friend.” 

“In a world we must defend!”