Work Text:
i.
Futon, second-hand. Frayed at the edges, stain on the lower right-hand corner. Washed regularly by hand, left to dry on balcony railing on sunny days.
ii.
Fuurin High uniform jacket, Fuurin High uniform pants. One set each. Washed regularly by hand.
iii.
Phone charger, white. Circular mascot sticker, obtained from a pudding brand’s limited event, on the wall-mount end.
Sakura-chan, here, Kiryuu says, tossing the pudding to you after lunch. You fumble the catch, surprised, but before you can ask, Kiryuu is saying, That one had a duplicate sticker. Tsuge-chan, d’you want one, too?
iv.
Blue and white reusable tote bag, worn at the handles. Small earthenware pot with lid inside, washed and dried. Utensils and towel nestled inside pot.
Thanks, says Kotoha, eyeing you. Looks like you’re feeling better.
v.
Two issues of Shounen Jump magazine. The cover of the newest issue is curled slightly, several pages wrinkled.
Seriously? Anzai asks, the magazine folded back so he can hold it with one hand. He leans forward and you lean back, unnerved. The newest serialization is so good! Hold on, take this one. Oi, Takanashi! Are you done with last week’s issue of Jump?
vi.
Navy folding umbrella, one prong bent at an angle.
“What would we do if you caught another cold, Sakura-san?!” Nirei is practically in tears as he shoves the umbrella into your hands. It was sunny when you arrived at the cafe, but raining heavily by the time you and Nirei finished eating.
It wasn’t that bad, you say, trying to push the umbrella back into Nirei’s hands. A back-and-forth ensues, and heat rises into your face at the attention the two of you are gathering. I’ve had worse.
This time when Nirei shoves the umbrella at you, it’s with enough force that you feel the thin metal warp on one side, enough force that you cede a surprised step back. I don’t want you to have it worse! That’s the point, Sakura-san!
vii.
Two tall plastic cups, clear with green stripes, from the 100-yen store. A bag of assorted candies, also from the 100-yen store.
Suo holds the plastic basket, eyeing the dishware in front of him. It’s a small selection, cheaply made, but Suo examines them like they’re the finest of porcelain. Nirei’s voice carries from the other aisle, debating candy flavors with Kiryuu.
What do you think, Sakura-kun? Suo smiles, holding two cups from the display and tilting them in your direction. Green or blue?
viii.
A bright red resistance band and a spiky black massage ball, arranged carefully atop the overturned crate that serves as a side table.
No training regimen? Tsuge repeats, aghast. He speaks loud enough to draw the attention of the rest of the class, though they quickly turn away when Tsuge launches into a speech on the importance of toning, and stretching, and recovery days, and nutrition.
You aren’t surprised to find that Tsuge carries training equipment instead of school supplies in his bag, but you are surprised when he begins shoving things in your direction. Nirei, notebook temporarily forgotten, picks up the spiky ball with an expression that mirrors yours, when your eyes slide towards each other.
This is…helpful? Nirei asks slowly. You take it from him and frown at the feeling of the spikes digging into your palm.
Of course! Tsuge answers, pumping a fist in the air. He stands, grabbing the ball from you. I’ll show you!
Over his shoulder, across the room, Kakiuchi makes an ‘x’ motion in your direction while Takanashi put his head in his hands. Tsuge grabs you before you can puzzle out the warning, already halfway through an explanation on deep tissue massage.
Admittedly, it does sort of help.
ix.
A brown bag of croquettes, greasy at the bottom. A bright, color-blocked zip-up and a green scarf, speckled with gray, hanging on the hook attached to the back of the door.
Good job today, Enomoto says to the assembled group. He nudges you and Kaji painfully until you both parrot his words at the your respective teams.
Patrols are routine at this point; enjoyable even, if you allowed yourself an adjective. You were beginning to allow yourself all sorts of adjectives for all sorts of things in your life–hectic, where your social life was concerned, group chats pinging regularly, sometimes slow enough for you to actually respond; cluttered, where your limited floorspace was concerned, a stack of floor pillows tilting to one side next to a low table, board games shoved hastily against the narrow bookshelf wedged in one corner.
Comfortable, when you pressed your nose into the borrowed scarf–Suo–and sweatshirt–Kiryuu–and found you believed that they didn’t mind lending their clothes to you. Despite winter’s fast approach, you haven’t mustered up the courage to venture out and get proper clothing for it.
But today’s patrol ended in a brawl near the shopping center, your team–your team, the ones who call you familiarly, who hang over your shoulders and listen to your commands, who trusted you long before you trusted yourself–spilling across the street to help right signage and sweep up glass.
The largest clothing store in the area is at the end of the block, towering over the food stalls nearby. It would take no time at all to shout and let your team know you want to stop by after the roads are cleared, after the last shopkeepers have been talked to.
You think about saying something. You do. But sometimes you still find yourself standing at the edge of the crowd, a stranger to the town and its inhabitants. The scene in front of you warps, abruptly a taunt, a mirage.
You freeze at the corner of the street, uncertain.
You don’t have to hover here, Kaji says around the lollipop in his mouth. He’s looking out at the backs of the rest of the guys, arms across his chest.
You startle slightly, having forgotten he was nearby. What?
Kaji’s nose wrinkles. He’s no good at talking and neither are you, so for a moment silence settles over your corner of the street. The woman at the bakery waves Nirei over, and you know, with that complicated warmth in your chest, that the bag of treats she holds out will end up in your hands, some way or another.
We already had this talk, Kaji says suddenly, abrupt. There’s the sharp snap of the candy breaking under his teeth. None of your guys are going anywhere. They all like you.
Your ears heat, but for once you have enough of a hold over your tongue to stop the defensive, embarrassed protests. It’s been half a year. Not nearly long enough to overtake the specter of the years before then, the turned backs and glaring eyes and the thin, jittery tightrope you once walked. You didn’t think anyone noticed that you still flinched at its shadow.
I know, you say, truthful but sullen. You hunch your shoulders; feel the scarf bunch uncomfortably around your neck. Nirei is flitting around the members of your team, your class, your friends, and you realize abruptly that if you can’t ask Nirei, you can’t ask anyone. Nirei, despite your initial reluctance, is your first friend.
Nirei, you call, but Nirei is already headed your way, looking at the ever-present phone in one hand.
Sakura-san, he says–shouts, even though there’s not that much space between you. We’re almost done here!
He bows at Kaji, gets a nod in return, and turns to you with a beaming smile that flusters you even now. Were you ready to go?
Actually, you start, halting. Your eyes flick towards the shopping center; Nirei follows your gaze, the turns back to you, head tilted to one side. Your face is burning, but you manage to say, Actually, I wanted to buy a coat. Or something. If you wanted to come with me.
Nirei mouth trembles that way it does when he’s excited about something and he pushes the still-warm bag into your hands. Sure! he agrees, and Kaji, unwrapping another lollipop, flashes a smile in your direction.
x.
“Um,” you say. It’s not loud enough to be heard over the chatter in the cafe, your classmates bustling amongst each other and the tables. Training went well, which means everyone looks a little worse for the wear, Kotoha’s first aid kit gutted on the counter.
Suo notices your attempt, though, and raises his voice on your behalf, says Sakura has something to share with us. The noise quiets, the movements still. You falter when everyone’s attention turns toward you, stuttering through your request.
“Could we take a photo?”
For a moment, you think it’s a mistake. Out of character in a terrible way. But then the guys brighten, scrambling to get closer as Mr. Yamano gamely takes the camera from Kotoha so she can slide into the frame as well. The atmosphere threatens to overwhelm you, the noise and the proximity and the fact that at the center of it is you, somehow willingly.
Your walls are bare, at the apartment. You’d never noticed how much space walls encompassed until the apartment was filled with other things, the same way you’d never given notice to the passing of the months until you had people to mark it by.
Nirei crashes into your side, winding an arm through yours as he calls for everyone to face forward, and Suo materializes at your other side, cajoling Sugietsu into the photo. Kotoha yells at someone behind you, threatening violence on the next person to stand on the table, and Kiryuu and Kakiuchi drop into a crouch in front of you, hands in peace signs. Tsuge’s weight settles at your back, his arms curling around you and Nirei as he roars, apparently for no other reason than delight.
You feel–you feel–
“Okay,” Mr. Yamano says, loud enough to be heard over the laughter and noise. “Everyone smile now!”
You do.