Chapter Text
“What an insipid, idle, pointless waste of valuable time.”
“Oh no, my va~lu~able sulking time,” Jakotsu snarked, “Whatever will I do? Er—mmf.”
Renkotsu’s eyes didn’t meet Jakotsu’s, but his hand did. Let it be known— Renkotsu was not a petty man, nor an impatient one. That didn’t mean that he never wanted his brother to stop talking.
“Quiet, Jakotsu. I can’t think over the sound of your voic— you’re licking my hand, aren’t you?”
Renkotsu sighed, deeply. He had been arching it in a way to try and prevent that very thing, but it seems Jakotsu’s persistence was unmatched. He removed his hand from Jakotsu’s face. Not without wiping Jakotsu’s spit back where it came from, though, as it was the unspoken but well-known consequence of licking-the-hand-that-shushes-you.
“Ew. What did you put on your hands? They’re gross,” Jakotsu said, “Have you heard of soap?”
“Yes, and I’ve also heard of bug spray, which I apply to deter you since you’re such a pest,” Renkotsu replied.
“What? Wow. I can’t believe you could be so cruel to me,” Jakotsu crossed his arms, pouting, “You’re probably just jealous ‘cause I actually have a life,”
“And I’m sure in a past life I took it— seeing as that’s the only explanation for why I’d possibly be punished by having you as my twin brother,” Renkotsu said.
“You only say that ‘cause you’re the ugly twin,” Jakotsu retorted.
Renkotsu rolled his eyes, “I don’t need whatever your definition of beauty is. Frankly, I can’t bring myself to care about something so trivial. I have intelligence, and no time to waste on frivolous events like this.”
The this in question was the school’s annual fund-raising event, an event designed solely to continue the monotonous, absolutely pointless cycle of extracurricular clubs. Funds were required to run the clubs, so the clubs would use their funds to make things they could sell for funds, generally. The ones that couldn’t relied solely on the charity of anyone foolish enough to care.
It may as well have been a bake sale.
Of course, this wasn’t to say that Renkotsu completely despised the concept of school clubs and extracurriculars. He’d been in many clubs, but none of them had anything to offer him other than a place on his permanent record. A stepping stone in the pathway of his college application.
He joined the chess club, hoping to find a place where strategy was appreciated, where his strategic mind could be challenged…
Only to find that most of the students in that extracurricular were there by punishment, including Bankotsu, who infuriatingly won every game for no apparent reason.
He had tried to expand his horizons by joining the literature club, hoping to read and discuss the classics with like-minded people. Instead, he found that it was overrun with hopeless romantics reading the shallowest young adult love stories that one could imagine.
Shortly after he left the club, Jakotsu had joined it after hearing him rant about it— the exact opposite audience he was hoping to find in a club for like-minded intellectuals to discuss classical literature.
Suffice to say, Renkotsu was picky about what extracurricular he actually took part in. Jakotsu was not.
Jakotsu had been in just about every club or on every team that the school had to offer. Too flighty to commit to any one thing, he tried a bit of everything— cheerleading, dance team, soccer, gymnastics, culinary club, the nature club (he couldn’t even keep a succulent alive) and even the club dedicated to chemistry, which Renkotsu suspected he mistook as meaning romantic chemistry.
If there was a club, Jakotsu most likely attended it or loitered in it, usually because Bankotsu took it.
To his surprise, Jakotsu actually managed to commit to gymnastics, the literature club, and musical theatre. Everything else he seemed to attend spontaneously, deciding on a whim on what to make time for.
The sheer chaos of his twin brother’s schedule often left him wondering how they were possibly related at all, let alone twins. Did he lose a bet, once upon a time?
Jakotsu tsk’d, sighed dramatically and walked ahead of Renkotsu, “I can’t believe I have to let my reputation be dragged down by my grumpy brother.”
“For once, we feel similarly,” Renkotsu said.
“Ooh, what’s that?” Jakotsu paused by the bulletin board, the cluttered mess the school liked to call organization. Old posters that weren’t taken down, flyers for every teenager’s poor excuse for a band, and post-it notes with phallic doodles that, no matter how often removed, always came back.
Completely undignified— anyone can doodle on a piece of paper. If you’re going to cause chaos, you might as well commit to it and have the dignity to at least and make it interesting and make a prototype.
These people have no structure.
“I would think you’re familiar with what those are,” Renkotsu said, watching as his brother picked up the pen and gave the penis a moustache.
“Look! He’s French,” Jakotsu pointed, “Hon hon, oui oui. Bifle.”
“Did you stop us here just to do that?” Renkotsu asked, mentally rolling his eyes.
“Huh? Oh, no. I stopped to look at that,” Jakotsu said, pointing at one of the flyers. Before, Renkotsu had considered that flyer as part of the background noise of a cluttered board, but upon closer inspection…
Shikon High: The School of Four Souls - NEW AND IMPROVED METALSHOP CLUB
Teacher: TOTOSAI
Description: Do you desire to build things out of metal? To learn how to forge the future, from magnets to weapons? Perhaps you’d like to dabble in mechanics and learn how to build a car from scratch with a friend? Better yet— turn your friend INTO a car!
Then join Metalshop today!
Disclaimer: Any and all engineering or robotics lessons will be taught by Naraku (who is NOT planning anything) on alternating Fridays and Mondays as a bonus.
THERE IS NOTHING SINISTER ABOUT THIS CLUB.
Metalshop? Interesting.
”Perhaps there’s finally a club worth joining,” Renkotsu mused aloud. He grabbed his notepad and scrawled down the details
“They’re all worth joining if you like life and don’t have a stick up your— mmf.”
“What did I say about you talking?”
Jakotsu pried Renkotsu’s hand off of his face, and said, “You know, it’s good you’re joining Metalshop. You can build yourself a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend—“
“Or I can build you a muzzle, so I don’t have to hear such preposterous things,” Renkotsu replied.
“You’re right. You don’t have enough game, even just to date a hunk of metal,” Jakotsu teased, “But you know, Ren, even if you’re a lost cause, I can teach you how to flirt! My methods do work better on guys, though.”
“Your methods don’t work at all.”
“Hey! I taught Mukotsu how to make a convincing dating profile, and now he has a long-term girlfriend!”
“She’s not his girlfriend, she’s investigating him for fraud!”
“Pish-posh! I could land a boyfriend before you did,” Jakotsu said, poutily— but then perked up, “Ooh! We should make a bet!”
“A bet,” Renkotsu repeated, in disbelief.
“Yeah! Whoever gets a date first wins, um… Something cool.”
“Intriguing offer, but I’ll have to decline on the basis that I don’t care,” Renkotsu said, monotonously, “Perhaps ask me again when I’m in a cheesy rom-com.”
“You’re no fun,” Jakotsu sighed, “What’s the point of high-school if we don’t do hijinks?”
“For the future, and if I’m late to class because of you, you won’t have one,” Renkotsu threatened. Jakotsu rolled his eyes in response.
Sign-ups for Metalshop were after school, so as soon as the bell rang, Renkotsu intended to head out with purpose.
“Hey, Ren!”
Sighing, Renkotsu turned around to see Bankotsu eagerly running up to him. (Truly a rule-breaker, since you weren’t supposed to run in the hallways. What a mundane crime to commit.)
“Renkotsu!” Bankotsu said, “We’re headed to the cafe, you coming?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Renkotsu asked. Signing up for a club didn’t take that long.
“Jakotsu said you had to French a robot, or something,” Bankotsu said. Renkotsu felt the urge to reach out and fix how Bankotsu was wearing his backpack, because he never wore it right— always hanging off of the left shoulder, unbalanced, while Bankotsu held onto its strap like it’d fall otherwise. Didn’t that defeat the purpose of a backpack?
“Did he, now?”
“Hey, no judgement here,” Bankotsu shrugged, “I just need to know if we’re waiting up for you.”
“I’ll be there. Contrary to Jakotsu’s imagination, I’m simply signing up for a club,” Renkotsu said.
“Really? Well, I can’t wait to hear about it at the meeting. I gotta go round up the others, but I’ll see you there!” Bankotsu said, leaving Renkotsu to sign up for his club in peace.
Renkotsu was about to walk into the door, was reaching for the handle, when—
“Don’t… don’t go in there.”
Chills ran up his spine, like a marathon of cold, unsettling athletes creeping up his skeleton.
Renkotsu turned around to see a short albino girl. White hair with flower-clips, pale skin as if she was see-through. She looked out of place; seemed too young for highschool standing at half his height, and looking up at him with a blank expression on her face.
“And why do you say that?” Renkotsu asked,
“The past cannot be ignored,” She said, “If you go in there, I do not think it will end well for you.”
Renkotsu looked towards the door, “Are you seriously threatening me?”
When he glanced back, she was gone.
Renkotsu was certainly at unease with his encounter with the child, but he wouldn’t let some strange, unsupervised, running amok child ruin his chance at a worthy endeavour. If you find something worth your time amidst the mindless drivel, you hold onto it like a lifeline.
And Renkotsu wasn’t going to lose this opportunity— no, he was going to take this lifeline and embed it in his chest like something precious and rare.
It didn’t take long to get to the rundown café that practically served as their home base. Le Café de Mukotsu. It was always almost completely empty, likely because of how shady it was, or the mere fact that the owner naturally repelled all life forms.
His friends were sitting at the counter when he walked in, not yet noticing his presence. Unsurprising, considering the door’s bell remained broken despite Mukotsu’s desperate attempts to fix it without spending money.
Kyoukotsu was piling every piece of food Mukotsu let him have into his mouth eagerly, Suikotsu was texting and Bankotsu watched, amused, as Jakotsu tried to give Mukotsu fashion advice.
Something about the scene felt off, that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something’s missing.
“—and you shave that horrible moustache. It makes you look like a huge pervert—“
“He is a huge pervert,” Suikotsu reminded.
“Yeah, well, most men are,” Jakotsu said, “That doesn’t mean you have to advertise it. And you’re wearing a tank-top with an apron on top, and it has mystery stains! You know what that says, Mukotsu? It says I’m a secret butcher and this restaurant is a front.”
“It’s… it’s not a front,” Mukotsu said, “You don’t think it’s a front, do you?”
Of course he doesn’t, Renkotsu thought, It’s not at all suspicious how much this place smells like perfume, or how red your eyes are. I’m sure the only thing baked in here is the pastries.
“Jeez, did I hit a nerve? I’m just saying— if you dress like a creep, even my match-making skills won’t be enough for you. And at your age, you shouldn’t even be wearing cargo shorts.”
“How old do you think I am?” Mukotsu asked, baffled and possibly offended.
“I dunno. A hundred?”
“Careful, Jakotsu,” Renkotsu piped up, startling his friends he had creeped up behind, “If you don’t watch your mouth, Mukotsu might start charging you.”
“I give him free dating advice. That’s worth more than anything in this place,” Jakotsu replied, “I could charge thousands as a love advisor.”
“Damn it,” Mukotsu muttered.
“No one would pay you for that.”
“I don’t know. I think Jakotsu’s onto something. I mean, Mukotsu already has a long-term internet girlfriend because of him,” Bankotsu said, “Pretty soon they’ll even meet in person.”
“And then she’ll run screaming for the hills,” Suikotsu added, bluntly.
“Yeah! See, Renkotsu? Bankotsu agrees with me,” Jakotsu said, swinging an arm around his best friend, “You wanna hear my first tip? Walk up to the prettiest boy you can find and ask him what his blood type is.”
“Why would you possibly do that?” Renkotsu asked, taking a seat at the end of the counter.
“You gotta check to see if he has the same blood type, and maybe he’ll also think you’re a sexy vampire,” Jakotsu answered, like it was obvious.
“And why does he need to have the same blood type as you?” Renkotsu asked.
“Compatibility,” Jakotsu said, “Also, if it doesn’t work out, you got a new blood donor.“
“That sounds more like you’re looking to sell his blood on the black market,” Suikotsu chuckled.
“Maybe I am.”
“That’s a surefire way to end a relationship,” Renkotsu said.
“It’s okay. It wouldn’t be mine,” Jakotsu said, “I don’t need a blood donor, I have a twin. Though, if a guy ever broke up with me, I think I deserve to keep a little piece of him, don’t you think? I mean, it doesn’t have to be blood, but at least a lock of hair or something, maybe like a tooth. Don’t you think?”
“I think you need to be checked out by a mental hospital,” Renkotsu said.
Bankotsu cleared his throat, effectively ending the old conversation, “So, Renkotsu— what was that club you were gonna join?”
“You went to join a club?” Kyoukotsu asked, interest piqued, “Did you go through with it, or ditch like a coward again?”
“For your information, I did join the club,” Renkotsu said, “It’s Metalshop. I can only hope it’s as dignified as it sounds.”
“Oooh! So that’s why Jakotsu said—“
“They brought back Metalshop?” Mukotsu interrupted, “I thought after what happened last time, it’d be banned for eternity.”
“Eternity? Really?”
“Oh yeah, I thought I heard something about that,” Bankotsu said, “There’s a legend about it at school. Something to do with the old teacher.”
“Kaijinbo.”
They all turned to face Mukotsu, who wore a dark expression upon his face, “I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“Then explain.”
“The story goes,” Mukotsu started, leaning closer, “That a man named Kaijinbo returned to Shikon High to plot his revenge. Discarded, considered second best to his old master— when the old fool retired, that’s when he striked.”
“He became the new Metalshop teacher, but his grudge was intense. They say he killed ten students,” Mukotsu said, “And then— disappeared one day. Shikon High has lived in fear since then, that when the Metalshop returns— so will Kaijinbo.”
“And how much of this is true?” Renkotsu asked, skeptically. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but remember the girl. The one who was there for just a moment, who threatened him. Or was it… a warning?
”I don’t know,” Mukotsu shrugged, “No details were ever revealed about the case. The police were silent, the school was silent… Whatever happened, they’re trying to keep it quiet. I’d watch out if I were you.”
“Oh, don’t tell him that,” Jakotsu said, slapping Mukotsu’s hand, “He’s one step away from wearing a tin foil hat. You’re going to make him paranoid, and then I’m going to have to deal with that.”
“Would you have a little faith in me?” Renkotsu asked, blankly, “I’m not an imbecile. Unless some actual proof turns up, I’m not keen to believe a bunch of nonsensical gossip.”
“You don’t believe it?” Bankotsu asked, “You should talk to that creepy chick Suikotsu likes, then— if you can get a word out of her. She helps the library with the school records, or something.”
“She’s not creepy. She’s mysterious, and thoughtful and elegant—“ Suikotsu interrupted.
“Yeah, and I’m sure she doesn’t collect the souls of the dead, too.”
“That’s just a rumour!”
Renkotsu huffed, “Don’t you think we would’ve heard about it if such a crime happened at our school?”
“Maybe you’re just not paying attention,” Bankotsu said.
//
The unsettling experience that had befallen him was soon forgotten over the course of the week, as he eagerly awaited his first Metalshop class, anticipation steadily growing.
Renkotsu liked his classes, for the most part— even if the teachers seemed reluctant to call on him and often stumbled over their own words. Mr. Myouga was the worst about that, and terrible if any student confronted him about it.
All his complaints were forgotten when he set foot in Metalshop, the smell of metal being welded together and the sound of hammers shaping their creation. It felt like home.
Renkotsu wasn’t the last one there, but he certainly wasn’t the first.
He recognized Taijiya Sango immediately— she was part of that group of goody two-shoes led by Higurashi Kagome and her pet boyfriend, Inuyasha.
Jakotsu was always whining about how ‘cute’ this Inuyasha was, and Bankotsu was always whining about how ‘annoying’ Inuyasha was. It was no surprise their groups had crossed paths more than once.
Apart from her, there was a student that he didn’t recognize. Though he was seated, he seemed quite tall.
He had a nice, strong build— big, muscular arms, vibrant red hair sensibly slicked back with a headband, and a defined jaw, so long as you could look past his headgear.
An eyepatch covered his right eye, and scars were scattered across his arm. He couldn’t help but wonder what stories they told.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up but long, it seemed oversized, a creation of patchwork not unlike the rest of him. His eyes trailed over little details like the loose threats and uneven stitches, or the patch with a messily embroidered butterfly on it.
Renkotsu found his courage in time to walk up to the man, eyes set on the empty seat beside him, “Is this seat taken?”
He looked… surprised that anyone was talking to him. He could tell by the way his eye widened in surprise, pupil dilated.
“No,” He said. His voice seemed raspy, perhaps not used a lot, and fairly deep and masculine.
Renkotsu took that as his invitation to sit beside him, and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Upon further inspection, he noticed that his left hand had a few metal prosthetic fingers. Idly, he wondered if they could do anything special.
“Well, I guess we’re just waiting on the other two,” Totosai said, “I’m going to rest my eyes for a minute. Wake me if they show up.
Uncannily, Totosai was either asleep in seconds or an incredibly good actor.
It did mean that the class portion wasn’t starting yet. Perhaps this was his opportunity to introduce himself to this mysterious new student.
“Hello,” Renkotsu said, turning to face the new student politely, offering his hand to shake, “I don’t seem to have seen you around before. My name is Renkotsu.”
“Ge-sh. I’m… new here. I transferred,” He said, “My name… is Ginkotsu.”
“Ginkotsu, huh? A funny coincidence that I’d run into yet another kotsu,” Renkotsu said.
“Have you.. met a lot?” Ginkotsu asked.
“Oh, yes. Aside from myself and my brother, we have quite the growing collection. Our entire friend group is composed of them. I’m… sure they’d love to meet you, if you’re interested.”
Ginkotsu seemed even more taken aback by that, if possible, but through his headgear seemed to smile, “If you don’t mind… I think I would like that.“
Renkotsu smiled, contentedly. Ginkotsu played with his metal fingers, absentmindedly.
“G…. Is this… your first metalshop class?” Ginkotsu asked, tentatively.
“Yes, it is,” Renkotsu said, “It’s only just recently that they opened it up. Would I be right in assuming your previous school had one?”
Ginkotsu nodded, “Yesh. It… closed down recently, though. That's where… I made these.”
Ginkotsu flexed his prosthetic fingers. Renkotsu gawked.
“You made those yourself? That’s incredible!” Renkotsu said, inadvertently taking Ginkotsu’s hand to examine them closer, “The craftsmanship is astounding!”
And it was true— even if they weren’t the smoothest in appearance, Ginkotsu seemed able to control his metal fingers almost as well as real ones, like an extension of himself.
Ginkotsu chuckled, an odd but endearing noise, “They’re nothing special. Took a few tries to get it right… had lots of practice.”
“They’re fascinating,” Renkotsu said, “Say, have you ever thought about enhancements? I’ve always wondered if technology like this could be used to enhance mankind. I suppose it’d make you a man of the future.”
Ginkotsu smiled, softly, “What… would you add, if you could?”
“Hmm. I’d make as many practical improvements as I could. Perhaps something for self-defense, as well— it could be vital to catch an opponent off guard if it ever came to that. Oh, and if it was me, I’d add a pencil sharpener— my brother is always stealing mine.”
It’s entirely possible that most people would’ve been offended at his question, or put-off by his semi-mad ramblings about improving mankind. But Ginkotsu didn’t seem bothered, taking in every word he spoke as if he actually liked listening to it.
“He doesn’t even use it, if you were wondering,“ Renkotsu said, “At this point, I think he just doesn’t want me to have it.”
“Ge-sh… I think I’d add a pencil sharpener, as well. And… some power tools. It would be nice… to always have them with me.”
Renkotsu smiled, “Hopefully, they’ll cover that in the lessons. Otherwise I’ll have to spend the next six months holed up in the library reading every book on engineering.”
“That’s a good pasttime,” Ginkotsu agreed, “I… spent many hours in the library in my last school.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what sparked your decision to transfer?” Renkotsu asked, curiously.
“I… wasn’t the most popular. I had, had made some enemies, in my time there,” Ginkotsu said, “And Metalshop closed, so I found there was no reason to stay. Not… interested in any of the, the other things.”
“I can certainly understand that. This is by far the most excited I’ve been for an extracurricular in the entirety I’ve attended.“
Ginkotsu nodded in agreement, “I’ve always enjoyed it.”
“Perhaps, if you wouldn’t mind, you can give me some pointers. Seems like it might take forever for the class to actually start.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Ginkotsu said.
Before Renkotsu had the chance to say anything else, Hiten burst through the door, followed by Muso. Totosai snorted and shot up in his chair.
“Eh? All here, then?”
“Of course, Master Totosai, wouldn’t miss it,” Hiten said, sliding in the seat next to Sango, who rolled her eyes and moved a seat over, placing her bag firmly in-between them. Sensible girl.
Totosai coughed, “Alright, students. This is the first metalshop class here, and we’re going to have to move quickly, if we're gonna make enough stock in time for the fundraiser. If you’re not willing to dedicate yourself to this club, then… I’m not sure what you’re doing here.“
“So I’m going to teach you all the basic techniques you need to know for forging, welding, and all that. I’ll even teach you how to make magnets. I hope you can all paint, otherwise it’ll be a lot harder to make cheap knickknacks.”
///
Metalshop was like no class Renkotsu had ever attended. That wasn’t to say that Totosai was the absolute best teacher— truthfully, he was old and potentially senile, and randomly rambled on how he trained a dog to run the bath for him or why there was a law firm after him.
But despite Totosai’s faults, he was clearly an expert in his field, and once you figured out how to get past his old man act, he was very informative.
To Renkotsu’s delight, Totosai even talked at length about the history of metalworking, highlighting different ways of metalworking and their popularity in various eras. Though, Renkotsu would have to fact-check some of the ramblings— Totosai seemed uncertain about some details.
By the end of the class, Renkotsu had made a decision: this was going to be the club he stuck with. By the end of the class, he had also made another decision.
So when Renkotsu left class, he turned to Ginkotsu.
“You should meet us at lunch sometime, if you have time,” Renkotsu suggested.
Was he really inviting a stranger to sit with them, after one short conversation? Had he completely lost his mind? If Jakotsu had done that, he wouldn't have let him hear the end of it.
But, in his defense, Ginkotsu was nothing like any of the people Jakotsu or Bankotsu would invite to their table— the loud, boisterous and disruptive people they were friends with. Ginkotsu was not only a fellow kotsu, but Renkotsu could already tell he was more dignified than anyone his brother knew.
“I’d like that,” Ginkotsu said, “So long as I’m not intruding.”
“In this school? You’d be the only one who’s not.”
When Renkotsu got home that day, he started drawing up schematics for everything he wanted to make, sketching for hours (though he had to improvise sharpening his pencil, since his pencil sharpener was still kidnapped— sorry, ‘borrowed without permission’) of various designs for things he wanted to make.
Go big or go home, right? After all, this would be the first year he’d be participating in the fundraiser— and he wasn’t about to let Metalshop close down again.
(Little did he know: something lurked in the darkness…)