Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

TOKYO METROPOLITAN ADVANCED NURTURING HIGH SCHOOL—A means to an end. A curiosity to be satiated. A desire to know the intimate workings of simply being ordinary. 

Ayanokouji would much rather have chosen any other school if he had a choice in the matter, however, he could not see any other way to distance himself from the near-infinite reach of his quite influential father. 

The near-isolated way it functions from the rest of the outside world serves as protection, and to him, nothing else matters more than security. These walls do not easily bow down to significant, authoritative figures. Powerful as his father may be, but it seems even he cannot simply waltz in through its doors, and do what he desires; much less pluck his disobedient son from its protective environment.

However 'average' his entrance examination might be, this is an environment where he nonetheless earned his due. 

Leaning back, Ayanokouji closes his eyes almost serenely. He's keenly aware of two ANHS students standing near him, a boy with pale blue hair and red eyes, and the other with brown hair and equally brown eyes. 

Ayanokouji's not one to eavesdropped—unless it benefits him somehow—but he's curious, and it's harmless enough he can't see why not. 

"It's just," one of them says; frustration, confusion, and perhaps fear? was audible in his voice, how strange. "It's just so weird."

Ayanokouji strained his ears over the growing noise, "did Mikuni do this, Kuro? Did we not stop him then?" 

"... Probably," he hears the other guy say, sounding very apologetic, "I don't know, Mahiru." 

Silence. 

"... There's no denying it," murmurs Mahiru, "Mikuni must've restarted it again." 

"We'll find a way to stop it then," says Kuro, "nothing too complicated, right?" 

"... I guess so." 

Silence—then he hears someone shakily exhale, "thanks, Kuro." 

"Mhm, okay." 

"Okay?" laughs Mahiru. "That's all?" 

"Yes," Kuro drawls and Ayanokouji could hear the light-hearted playfulness in it, "that's all."

'They seem quite close,' was what Ayanokouji could take out from their hushed whispers. 

'What an interesting conversation,' thought Ayanokouji as he slowly opened his eyes. 'However, I don't really think it's worth it,' he shrugs. 

Calm is something that's normally not used in describing a bus ride. It's usually tight, noisy, chaotic; in summary, full of raucous. Ayanokouji's quite lucky, that while it's crammed—too crammed, in fact, it should be illegal—so far, it's rather peaceful. 

"Excuse me, young man. But that seat–you're currently occupying a priority seat. Shouldn't you offer it?" 

Ah, think of the devil and it shall come. His gaze immediately pinned the origin of the voice; an office lady addressing a young man near the entryway. 

Hm. The redness of his uniform is quite eye-catching and Ayanokouji could easily guess he's an ANHS student by that alone. Blonde hair was what he noticed next—not like it's that complexed anyway. 

"Are you even listening to me young man?" demanded the lady and Ayanokouji internally grimaced. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Kuro's troubled frown and Mahiru's disapproving gaze.

"Can't you see this elderly woman having trouble?" 

The tension in the air was palpable, yet the culprit seemed impervious to it, as if shielded by an invisible barrier of indifference. It's a rather curious sight—extremely intriguing, Ayanokouji might say. 

"Are you playing deaf or something?" snapped the office lady. An elderly woman stood at her side, her frail form evident in the unsteadiness of her knees and the tremors coursing through her arms. She clutched unto the younger woman's arms, her grip tight as she trembled so much she might as well just fall over.

'Perhaps, she shouldn't have board this bus,' thought Ayanokouji. 

"Aren't you going to offer it, young man?"

A pause. Expectation was high in the air, and then, "that's a crazy question, dear Miss." He answers with an air of arrogance. A self-assured grin was on his lips as he cocked his head, giving off an impression that he's looking down on someone even as he sits. "Why should I offer up my seat? There's no reason for me to do do." 

Offended, the lady explained, "you're sitting on a Priority Seat. It's only natural to offer those seats to the elderly." 

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Priority seats," he drawls, "are just that–Priority Seats. I have no legal obligation to move. And since I'm currently occupying this seat, I should have the right to determine whether or not I should move." A chuckle. "Am I supposed to give up my seat just because I'm young? Ha! That reasoning is nonsense." 

"I am a young healthy person who certainly wouldn't find standing inconvenient." A wave of a hand; a dismissal. "However, I'd obviously expend more energy by standing than I would by sitting. I have no intention of doing such a pointless thing." 

"That's stupid," says Mahiru, but it was quickly lost in the woman's angry screech. 

"What even is that kind of attitude?! Is this how youth are nowadays?!" 

The elderly woman—probably sensing an even bigger mess about to happen—taps the younger woman's arm placatingly. "It's alright, dear. I can stand for a little while." 

"I'm sorry," apologizes the younger one as she forced herself to stay calm. A commendable woman, Ayanokouji would dare to say. 

"Um–excuse me," someone says, "you can have my seat, Ma'am." 

The tension in the air suddenly vanishes. It's as if everyone took a long collective sigh of relief. It's that palpable. 

A savior. Everyone must've thought in gratitude. Even Ayanokouji couldn't help but feel grateful. 

"I'll help you Ma'am," she offered kindly, guiding the elderly woman towards the empty seat. 

Ayanokouji took one good look at their rescuer, and his eyes were instantly drawn to the brightness in her eyes—the kindness in her smile. Her fingers pushed a couple of stray hairs away from her face, brilliant oranges tucked securely behind her ears. 

She looked like the kind of person who would pick up lost money from a sidewalk and drop it at the lost and found. 

Another ANHS student was trailing behind her, following uncertainly. Ayanokouji wonders if they're related, or possibly even siblings. 

"Thank you, dear." 

"It's no problem, Ma'am!" she says, flushing. "I'm glad to help!" 

'Glad that seems to be over,' thought Ayanokouji. 

"Nao," calls the boy. 

"Yes, Akiyama-san!"

"You sit instead of me," he says firmly, holding unto the railing above his head. "I'll just stand." 

Nao looked scandalized. She reached out, "but Akiyama-san!"

Lightly slapping her hands away, Akiyama shuts her down immediately. "No buts."

"But–"

A sigh. "I'll be reaching my destination soon anyway. Don't worry too much." 

Unsure, Nao reluctantly sat down beside the elderly woman. "If you say so, Akiyama-san..." 

Then, with renewed vigor, she adds, "If you ever feel tired, Akiyama-san. Tell me, and we'll switch immediately! No complaints!"

Another sigh. His lips quirked upwards; almost a smile. "Sure. If you say so."

"You better tell me Akiyama-san!"

"Sure." 

"I'm sorry for interrupting!" intruded another ANHS student; this time, a girl with short beige hair and gradient crimson eyes. "But that was truly admirable!" 

Inexplicably, there was something absolutely captivating about her he couldn't quite pinpoint. It's as if she carried an aura of brilliance; an intensity that seemed too bright, it looked unnatural. 

Perplexed at her sudden appearance, Akiyama merely blinked at her, silent. 

Nao flushes slightly. Her hands were awkwardly waving away the compliment, "it's no problem, really!" 

"No need to be humble. You were very kind!" 

"Oh, that's–"

"But enough about that," she cuts in cheerfully. "I'm Kushida Kikyo, by the way. It's nice to meet you!" 

Relieved at the sudden change of topic, Nao smiles brightly. "Kanzaki Nao. Nice to meet you too, Kushida-chan!" 

"I hope we can be friends then, Kanzaki-chan. Even if we don't go to the same school!"

Nao brightens even more, "of course we can, Kushida-chan. I'd love to!" 

"That makes me very happy, actually!"

"Oh!" exclaims Nao. With a hand to her mouth, she turns to Akiyama in a moment of realization. "Look Akiyama-san. She's going to the same school as you!" 

"I've noticed." 

"Introduce yourself then, Akiyama-san!" encouraged Nao, grabbing unto his sleeves. 

"Akiyama Shinichi," he says, giving in to Nao's insistent tugs and Kushida's wide, doe eyes. "Pleasure to be of acquaintance." 

Leaning in slightly, Kushida says, "Kushida Kikyo. I'm in Class 1–D, by the way!" 

"Class 1–E, if you're curious."

Class 1–E. Ayanokouji discreetly glanced at them, more specifically, to Akiyama. 'It seems we're classmates.'

"Oh, you're in Class 1–E?" a pout was on Kushida's face, seemingly disappointed. "That's too bad. I was hoping we're going to be classmates."

Nao looked ready to offer encouraging words, but before she could open her mouth, Kushida exclaims, "but that's alright! We're still schoolmates, after all!" 

Becoming disinterested with the conversation happening, Ayanokouji sets his eyes somewhere else. Another ANHS student; a boy with dark messy locks and brown eyes—noticeably younger than normal was sitting in front of him. 

Sleek, black headphones were on his ears, effectively blocking out all sorts of noises from reaching him. He's been busy on whatever he was working on for the entirety of the bus ride, and Ayanokouji could guess he'll stay as such till the moment they arrive at their destination. 

Tucked safely underneath his seat was a peculiar looking luggage; it's mostly red all over, however, he could see streaks of black forming a line. Perhaps a creative design choice? It's suspiciously metal, not in a malicious kind of way, but rather curious. A handwritten note taped on its side simply spelled the word: BAYMAX.

'I wonder what that means.'

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IT WASN'T TOO LONG BEFORE THEY ARRIVED—A skid to a stop. A beat of a heart; anticipation swells, accompanied by the faint outlines of uncertainty. 

Ayanokouji boards off the bus feeling a wide range of inexplicable feelings. Is it excitement? Skepticism? Indecision? 

A new beginning, Ayanokouji thought with determination; hopeful, beyond everything else. 

There's a large, white robot in front of him—about 6 ft and 2 inch tall. 

"Woah, what's that?" Ayanokouji hears someone say, completely awe-struck. "Never seen one like that before. Hm–what do you think it's made of Ned? Not many robots could do it like that. It's so balloon-y." 

"It has dots for eyes," another one say. "And it's inflatable, Peter." 

"I know, right? That's so cool. Hey, do you think he'll let us take a look closer?" 

And there, Ayanokouji's attention was back to the boy currently in the center of attention—not like it ever left in the first place, just slightly out of focus due to surprise. 

It's the same boy from before; the one with the headphones and a suspicious baggage underneath his seat. He looked quite exasperated, slightly frowning as he watch the robot toddle towards him. 

Just prior to the appearance of Baymax—as it says his name was—the boy stepped on his shoelaces and fell from the bus stairs; exclaiming a loud Ow! when he hits the ground. Luckily, it was quite a low fall so he's not that hurt, though he did scrape his palms from trying to catch himself. 

That was when Baymax began inflating itself from the mysterious luggage, introducing himself as a Personal Healthcare Companion. It's actually so fascinating. 

"Hiro, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?" a robotic voice asks. 

"Just 1," sighs Hiro. "It's not that serious anyway." 

"I will scan you now." 5 seconds passed. "Scan complete. It appears you have sustained epidermal abrasions on your palms." It explains while displaying a visual of Hiro's injury on its chest part. 

"An internal projector, maybe?" Ayanokouji heard Peter say from behind him. "It looks like it's made of some kind of inflatable vinyl–could vinyl be used like a screen?" 

"I recommend using an antibacterial spray." 

"Sure, sure. Here you go. Just do it Baymax." 

"Of course." Then it began treating Hiro's palms; cleaning it first and then spraying it with antibacterial spray from its index finger. 

"It's not everyday you see a robotic nurse in real life, you know," says Ned. "It's so cool! It's making me wish I enrolled here!" 

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Five enormous school buses awaited the students as they disembarked one by one from their respective vehicles. As excessive as it is, Ayanokouji could understand the reason on why it was a necessity. Situated far beyond the mainland, it's only logical that such transportations are needed to reach its very remote location. 

Before they could board the bus, however, they needed to undergo a "screening"—a standard protocol to verify each student's authenticity. 

'Such measures,' thought Ayanokouji, 'but it's to be expected.' 

Ayanokouji silently followed a line, trailing behind a potential classmate. From the corner of his eye, he notices Kushida eagerly dragging a reluctant Akiyama by his left arm. The last time he'd seen them, they were at the gates exchanging heartfelt goodbyes with Nao. 

He watched them for a little while, observing as they settle into a seperate line running parallel to his own. 

'It must be nice,' a sigh, 'having someone see you off.'

It took a while, but slowly and surely, a bustling sense of activity begins to unfold all around him; awkward greetings and hushed conversations turning into loud shouts and warm laughter. This must be where friendships start—companionship between newly established acquaintances. 

Every connection starts with an outsider. Each friendship flourishes from that one initial encounter with a stranger. The question is this—"how does one bridge the gap of unfamiliarity and transform it into genuine bonds?"

There's a person behind Ayanokouji—and he's been grumbling for a while now; all about his supply of brown sugar syrup being 'not enough' and how 'he needs more'. And the longer it goes on, the more his frustration seemed to intensify. 

"Should I just call Toto?" Ayanokouji hears him say. Then a mutter, amazed and a touch bit incredulous. "I got the Toto-thoughts! Huh." 

Then, there's the sound of someone typing. A beep. It rings for approximately 10 seconds, and then—it was picked up. 

"Oh Toto! Ron here. An emergency came up. And no–this isn't a ruseee. It's real emergency! You're still here, are you? Yup? That's good! Buy me, at least–" 

A pause. 

"–a dozen brown sugar syrup!" 

'Isn't that a bit... too much...?'

"Pardon me, excuse me," a soft-spoken voice interjected. "If it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, I'd like to include some donuts to the list. Perhaps even a delectable cake..." the voice trails off, a little bit uncertain. "I've already emptied my supply of sweets, you see."

"And who might you be, stranger?"

"Ryuzaki."

"Did you catch that, Toto? Ryu's got a craving for donuts and cake!" cheers Ron. 

"I'll pay, of course," reassures Ryuzaki. 

"He says he'll pay you, Toto. Now, chop! Chop!" 

There's really nothing else you can do, but be forced to eavesdrop when the people behind you are engaged in a very interesting conversation. 

"Strictly professional, Ryu! It's not everyday you see someone so interesting, you know," says Ron. "And... we could potentially be classmates, after all." 

"Oh?" came Ryuzaki's response, sounding very much intrigued. "And what makes you so certain that we are?" 

"It could be numerous things," vaguely says Ron, but there was amusement in his voice. "But since you fascinate me so much, I'll tell you one thing–codes. They're quite noticeable when you already know of them." A chuckle. "They also have a tendency to stick out like sore thumbs."

A hum. "Can't say you're wrong." Then, a pause. "You're Class 1–E as well then, Ron-kun?" 

"Ron-kun? I'd say you're not that much older than me, Ryu," teased Ron. 

"Who knows?" unamused, Ryuzaki says. "Am I right, then?"

"And how can you be so sure of that, Ryu?" countered Ron. 

"I'd call it a stroke of luck–"

"Oh?"

"–but I have a feeling you'll be skeptical."

"Understatement of the century, isn't it?"

"Is it really?" a contemplating silence. " I suppose one could argue that I simply made some educated guesses, one that is guided by your reactions." 

"Guesses, he says, " repeats Ron and Ayanokouji could hear the smile spreading on his face. "And what does my reaction say?" 

"I can't say... but I'd wager the truth of my claims, perhaps... a hundred percent chance of probability?" 

"I see," laughed Ron. "You should've said yes then, but correct you are, Ryu!" 

"Well done!" 

'Two more Class 1–E students...' 

Ayanokouji had never understood what having a 'heavy heart' meant, but the pang in his chest must surely be something similar. 

'Okay then,' thought Ayanokouji gloomily. 

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"Toto just texted me, says he's here," informs Ron. "Here's the plan! I'll grab them, and you stand by." 

"Sure, sure," came Ryuzaki's half-hearted reply. 

"And, you–" a hand suddenly landed on Ayanokouji's shoulder. "–you've been listening for a while now, have you?" an accusation. 

"Eh?" 

Ayanokouji attempted to reply, but Ron did not spare him the chance. "Make sure no one else steals my spot." 

With a rustle of clothes and the familiar clink of coins, Ron dashed out with a trail of smoke. Ayanokouji merely watched him in poorly hidden bewilderment. 

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"And, I'm back!" 

"Good for you," blandly says Ryuzaki. "My share, please."

"I'd like your school identification card, please."

Wordlessly handing the object, Ayanokouji obediently obliged. 

Meanwhile, the sounds of Ron's slurping and Ryuzaki's munching echoes behind him. Ayanokouji can't help but find it distracting, perhaps even disturbing. 

Ayanokouji frowned. 'I don't think they care though.'

Chapter Text

"Ah," Ayanokouji hears Ryuzaki say the moment he entered the bus, his gaze pointed at a particular occupant near the entrance. 

"Near."

"L," says a boy with white hair and dark, dark abysmal eyes. If Ayanokouji had not already seen such eyes on Ryuzaki, he won't even think it's possible. 

"Ryuzaki," corrects Ryuzaki. 

The boy nods, "Ryuzaki then."

There were two other boys on either side of him, notices Ayanokouji—both seeming just a little bit older than the white-haired boy. However, it's honestly quite perplexing on how they seemed a little bit younger than what's usually appropriate for this kind of grade level. Not that Ayanokouji's judging—his education did start at such a young age too after all. For these boys to have been admitted in this school, they must all be extraordinarily brilliant. 

'How interesting.' 

"What are you three doing here?" asks Ryuzaki. 

"School, of course," scoffs a boy with long blond hair and blue eyes. Ryuzaki rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 

"You know that isn't what I meant, Mello." 

"It's interesting," another boy shrugs—this time with brown hair and slightly darker, blue eyes behind orange tinted glasses. "And besides, we were bored there." 

"I assume it's not as challenging as before then," dryly adds Ryuzaki. 

"Barely," confirms Mello, "Matt's been dying for days." 

"And that's something, isn't it?" chuckled Matt. 

A moment of silence before—"Alright then," sighs Ryuzaki. "It's not like I can stop you when you're already here." 

Near hums. 

Matt grins. 

Mello smirks. 

"Ooohhh," Ron pipes in. "Siblings of yours, Ryu?" 

Ryuzaki frowned. 

"Can't say the resemblance there," Ron whistles jovially, "but I'm sure if you look hard enough, you'll begin to see it." 

"Hah?!" Mello explodes, glowering. "What'd you say, you–!"

"Mello."

Ayanokouji was about to sit down when he notices some kind of blue... sleeping bag??? underneath the bus seat. 

Intelligently, he says—"Huh?"

It wiggles for a bit, 'like a worm,' Ayanokouji's brain unhelpfully supplied—before a mop of white hair appeared, soon followed by a lone blue eye. 

"Yo," the guy says with a cheeky grin on his pale, pale face. "Sore-y for the incon-vein-ience, butt this place's quite taken, yu'ssee." 

From the things left behind on the seat, especially from the nametag pinned on the bag; Ayanokouji could only guess his name was 'Sans'—if it even is his in the first place. "Oh," okay, sure? "I'll just find another seat then." What's with that strange way of speaking anyway?

"Not again with the puns," groans Mahiru from behind, head peeking out exasperatedly. 

"They're grate for a moody bunch, aren't day?" 

"Grating for the ears, you mean," grumbles Mahiru. 

It's getting kind of awkward just standing there being silent. 'Okay, time to go now.'

"You hypocritical delinquent!" A loud cry was heard outside. Ayanokouji slightly sweat-dropped as the person seated in front of him chuckled devilishly. 

"Looks like he finally noticed," the red-haired guy said; self-satisfied. Ayanokouji could swear devil horns were protruding from his temples. 

"... Karma-kun," the person sitting beside the now identified 'Karma' says warily, "did you spend his money again?" 

"Am I that predictable now?" 

"... You've been predictable for a while now though?" 

"Koro-sensei should stop leaving his wallets unattended then, Nagisa-kun." 

Nagisa-kun? Huh. Ayanokouji stares at the strands of blue hair peeking out from the back of the seat. 'How androgynous.' 

Ayanokouji's never one to mingle with the topic of any famous celebrities, however, he does know quite a few that catches his attention; especially the most influential ones in their respective spheres of power. The Gojo clan, for example, were quite cryptic and obscure in their practices—likely preferring to work in the shadows than air everything to light. Although their public footprints did increase due to their latest heir's recent interest in being more daring, but even then, secrecy's quite their specialty.

So, it's honestly quite surprising to see Gojo Satoru in the flesh, here in this school currently being flocked by some of his more rabid fanbase outside. 

"Ara ara~ I know it's a once in a lifetime experience meeting me ev'ry~one~"

"However, this is honestly too much! I'm a verrry~ busy man, you know," Ayanokouji hears him say; dramatically despondent. 

In the chaos of Gojo Satoru fans begging for his signature, security began laying out controls. Which would be a good thing, really. But then, Gojo pushed his sunglasses up, revealing two of his signature otherworldly eyes, and winked. The crowd went wild. 

"Such a shame, really. Such a shame~" 

'This one's an enabler,' Ayanokouji can't help but, think. 

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Moments later, after the initial excitement regarding Gojo Satoru's appearance died down—arrived two other known figures; Kaeya Alberich and Diluc Ragnvindr. Ayanokouji don't know much about them and their reputation, only that they have quite a massive reach in the business world. It's honestly quite impressive, considering the Ragnvindr clan were mostly known for their famous wines; literally wine tycoons with too much power. People could say what they must, but that's certainly impressive. 

Gojo whistled, impressed. "Those are either really good hair dyes or they really are naturals." 

"Says the one with white hair," scoffs Mello. 

"A one of its kind, don't you think?" smirks Gojo. 

"Not if it makes you look like an old man." 

"HAH!" exclaims Gojo, offended. "What a sassy little boy. Tut. Tut." 

"Little boy, you–"

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Gojo Satoru should really practice some self-restraint, Ayanokouji found. But then again, maybe he thrives in the chaos? The thrill? Ayanokouji could speculate and hypothesize, however, Gojo Satoru seemed like the kind of person who mostly does things according to his own amusement. 

"I gotta say," Gojo began. A smirk naturally spreading on his lips. "Those gossips I heard sure aren't lying when they say you look quite exquisite in real life, Master Diluc." Small talk~ small talk~ Ayanokouji heard him sing earlier, it's not everyday you see the famed 'Masters,' you know~

'That doesn't sound like small talk...' thought Ayanokouji as he sweat-dropped. 

Kaeya choked on a strangled laugh, which he then quickly concealed with a poorly disguised cough. Diluc glared, a disgusted expression present on his face. "I suggest you to please keep your thoughts all to yourself," snapped Diluc as he crossed his arms. "I do not have the time nor the interest for this." 

"I see, I see~ Not everyone has the ears for such exquisite words then~" 

Diluc tsks, but otherwise stayed silent. 

It's really taking a lot of time waiting for the bus to fill up, or maybe the screening's just that long and time-consuming. Ayanokouji's getting quite bored, and perhaps a little bit out of place, and lonely. Situated at the far back, he could only really watched his classmates slowly befriending each other. It's not like he doesn't want to at least reach out, it's just the fact that he doesn't know how to. And everyone else's quite occupied with each other to pay him any attention as he broods in the sidelines. 

'At this point, I might become a loner for the rest of the school year,' thought Ayanokouji dejectedly. 

"Hello, can I sit next to you?" someone asks. "Everyone else's quite full, you see." 

Ayanokouji tore his gaze away from the window and was greeted with bright yellow eyes and curly blonde pigtails. The girl smiled serenely, "Tomoe Mami, nice to meet you," she introduces as she sat down next to him. "You don't mind, do you?" 

Ayanokouji blinked, before the question seemed to sink into his mind, "no." Then, "Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, nice to meet you too." 

"Likewise," she nods, smiling still.

And then, silence. 

"It's rather unbidden, but I get the strangest feeling this year's going to be quite thrilling," Mami starts. "Don't you think so?" 

Ayanokouji stares at the rest of his classmates all around him, "it's a lively bunch. That I can say." 

"Isn't it? I must say I look forward to it."