Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Isagi Yoichi. In every way, he seemed like the perfect example of a normal Japanese guy. He had just been luckier than some at birth, with loving middle class parents and a pretty average childhood. His decisions were always supported, approved by his family. He had as many friends as he allowed, was not popular but not a loner. He lived a perfectly normal life. That is, until the day he entered some strange university, which sent him a letter instead of the other way around, as if they were begging him to come study there. He had only talked to the orientation councillor about his desired studies, and suddenly, a letter arrived in his mailbox, saying that he had been recommended to attend the most secret elite university in the world, based in his very own country — which told a lot about how secret it was. And before he knew it, it was April, his birthday had passed, and he found himself sat in a lecture theatre, listening to a professor introducing the year’s important themes.

Aokagi University of Japan. Japan, because there is no concrete location to this huge pentagon shaped campus. No one knows whether it is located in the prefecture of Tokyo, Aomori, Shizuoka, Kagoshima… It has been kept secret. And to ensure that the public could not know about its location, the administration had specifically requested that the students were escorted to the campus in buses with tainted windows that did not allow them to look outside during the trip. The students at Aokagi could also not communicate with the outside world, and could only call a selected number of people via their room’s landline, their personal phone not allowed. Talk about secrecy. This University’s system was designed like hell, hyperbolically. Though the professors and administrators did not care about the students’ personal life, they had made sure that nothing could get leaked, and managing to divulge information about Aokagi could get one definitively expelled even if only done once.

How had Isagi discovered that his new life would be much more interesting than the one he had before he entered university, which he had ultimately got bored of? Well, it all started when he placed his foot down onto the bus’s first step, having walked all the way to the closest train station, in front of which it was stationed. The chauffeur had pointed to a box with phones inside, indicating him to take one and go sit down. So he did, stepping inside the bus and walking farther back into the middle aisle, eyeing the already taken seats and his newly acquired phone. He found an empty aisle seat, bowed his head to the occupant of the window seat, and asked him if he did not mind his presence.

“Is this seat taken?” he enquired.

“Not at all! You can sit here,” the cheerful-looking boy smiled, moving the headphones he had left on the seat next to him over and placing them around his neck.

Isagi smiled back at him, though less energetically, it being quite early in the morning. He then put his stuff inside the overhead compartment right above their seats, then sat down beside him, putting the smaller stuff inside the net attached to the seat in front of him, and fastened his seatbelt around his thighs. The next minute, the bus was already in motion, and all he could do was stare ahead, lost in his thoughts, imagining what such private university could look like. He wondered who created it and why, tried to understand the logic behind its systems, or at least the ones he was already aware of. Why was it so secretive? What was the goal behind all this secrecy? What if his parents had opened the envelope before him? What if they had forgotten to write “FOR ISAGI YOICHI, DO NOT OPEN.” in plain red letters on the envelope? Maybe then Aokagi would be heard of, told about by mothers who had their children studying there. They would talk to their neighbours, saying “Oh, well my son studies at Aokagi University, I’ve never heard about it, but it must be a prestigious university, since he got a personal invitation letter! I’m so proud of him!”.

Though, as already five minutes had passed since he had sat down and started pondering, getting lost in his thoughts and scenarios, he could not be left in peace. Of course, his eyes dropped and locked onto the mysterious phone he had received upon entering the bus, inside the net attached to the seat in front of him, and it seemed to stir his curiosity. So he bent forward to get it, and observed it closely, flipping it over and analysing the pentagonal logo printed on the blue surface, the Aokagi University brand, probably there to remind the students that it was not just any University which they were studying at. He ran a finger over the volume buttons, looked for any strange functionality, and upon realising that it was just a normal phone, his eyes ceasing to squint at it, let his finger hover over the switch-on button.

“Are you searching for a hidden treasure inside that phone?” the guy beside him interrupted the movement of his finger as he was about to press that button, amusedly giggling at the way he was observing the phone. “Don’t worry, I’ve checked, and besides, it was written in the letter too, you know. They said something like ‘you can put photos in it but can’t talk to anyone outside campus’ or something like that, but didn’t mention anything else.”

Isagi turned to look at his seat mate, his gaze quite refusing to completely detach from the strange phone, and an awkward twitch to his lips. “Oh, um… I was checking for anomalies. You know, better safe than sorry…”

“Haha, I get it. What’s your name, by the way? I’m Bachira Meguru!” the other exclaimed with a grin, extending his hand to him.

“Oh, uh, Isagi Yoichi, nice to meet you,” he smiled in return, though it was more reserved and polite, before he realised the gesture that this Bachira had made towards him, and stared at his hand, a little surprised, before realising he had to take it, then finally doing so.

That day, Isagi unknowingly met his soon-to-be best friend, Bachira Meguru, with his bicolour hair and his bubbly personality. After getting off the bus, along with what seemed like hundreds of other first year students registered for different disciplines, they stepped through the entrance gates together, observing the campus around with curious eyes, though they could only see part of it. In fact, rather than “campus”, “small city” would be a preferable description of the immensity that surrounded them. They were immediately taken to a huge lecture theatre, where they waited for a good thirty minutes, the time needed for everyone to be here.

“Hey, Isagi,” Bachira elbowed him as he was watching all the students settling into the room and observing the place. “Which specialisation have you chosen?”

“Ehh, psychology. But I’m specifically interested in typology, though it’s only a specialised course included in the psychology curriculum. I mean I like helping, of course, but you know, clinical psychology isn’t my thing, I’d want to become a researcher in typology and behavioural psychology,” Isagi began to explain, though this level of detail was not necessary, but he liked developing on his own interests.

“Yeah, you’ll ace it. It suits you perfectly!” Bachira tilted his head slightly to the side, giving Isagi a strange smirk, though seemingly harmless and without malice.

“And you, Bachira?”

“Arts, obviously!” the guy answered, the corners of his lips stretching a bit more. “You know, my mom is an artist too, but I didn’t choose arts because of her. There’s a monster who’s always been by my side, and he’s my inspiration. Sometimes, he hugs me, and when he does, my mind starts materialising shapes and colours…” he continued, his eyes oddly unfocused by the time he was done talking. Though the next second, his expression was back to normal, and he was staring at Isagi, or rather straight through him, as if he could see the structure of his brain just by focusing on his face hard enough.

“Erm…” Isagi let out, confused.

“Say, Isagi, what got you interested in typology?” he got cut off by the bee-looking boy.

“I don’t really know actually,” he began, after taking a few seconds to think. “I‘ve never truly been exceptional in anything, so I’m ruling out competency. I think it was an instinctive decision, I sort of always was super aware of my environment, and I don’t know, maybe that influenced me. I haven’t really thought about it, it’s like I was cut for it, but at the same time I don’t really like that, saying it like it was predetermined…”

“It’s like you predicted what you could be good at in the future, right? Like you knew what you’d be capable of in advance despite not using your full potential and maybe not even knowing you had it in the first place.”

“How did you… I don’t even know, I mean, I can’t really tell—“

“I see familiar colours in you, Isagi. Bright green like fluorescent highlighters, deep blue like your eyes, bright whites… and shapes too, but that’s strange! You’re a funny one!” his sentence was suddenly cut, and he had to listen to Bachira saying what sounded like nonsense to him. “Do you like puzzles by any chance, Isagi?”

“Huh?”

Isagi’s confused expression seemed to relax as his attention diverted on something else that was happening in the room. Bachira noticed Isagi’s inattention and turned his head towards the object of his newfound curiosity. In fact, someone had taken place behind the lectern on the podium in the middle of the lecture theatre. It was a kind-looking woman with reddish hair and a bright face. She seemed to play an important role in the University’s administration. As she cleared her throat to get everyone to listen, through the microphones installed on each side of the lectern, the room suddenly got quiet and everyone stopped their conversation to pay attention to her.

“Thank you and good morning, students! Welcome to Aokagi University,” she began. “As you have probably read on the letter each of you received or guessed, I am the director of Aokagi, Teieri Anri. You’ve all been gathered here for further information about the functioning of this campus. To put it simple…”

By the time the director was finished speaking, an hour had already passed. The students left the lecture theatre, and headed to their designated residential building, after checking the message on their new phone. The dormitories were usually assigned by year. There were several buildings with fifty rooms each, usually housing two to three students.  Isagi roomed in the second first year’s building, which somehow had a name: “Lock 1b”. He was surprised when he discovered, back in the lecture theatre, that Bachira and him shared the same room. And so they both walked across the campus, trying not to get lost alongside the other students, towards their building. They claimed their keys at the entrance, before getting to the fifth floor, where their room was. Though as they reach the door, they were quite perplexed upon discovering that it was already open. They stepped inside, and their eyes immediately landed on another boy, sitting on the small living room’s sofa, fixing his bright red hair with meticulous care. As the duo approached the door, their other roommate lifted his gaze towards them. A second passed as they stared at each other, Isagi attempting to give him a smile to be polite. But then, before things had the time to become awkward, Bachira exclaimed, entering the room, dropping his bag down and moving around the room, assessing the place they would reside in for as long as they were studying in this University. He then turned to the redhead, and sat on the other side of the sofa, directly talking to him.

“Hey, I’m Bachira Meguru, he’s Isagi Yoichi. Nice to meet you! You’ll be our roommate right? What’s your name?” he introduced himself and Isagi, energetically.

“Eh, nice to meet you I guess. I’m Chigiri Hyouma.” the third guy answered, before looking at Isagi, who seemed to have held in an intervention at Bachira’s suddenness.

Isagi stared right back at him, unperturbed by the sudden change in the redhead’s object of attention, before looking around him, noticing the absence of any luggage or stuff. He looked back at Chigiri and enquired about this. “Did you already put your stuff in the bedroom?”

“Hm, yeah. Sorry, by the way, I took the separate bed. You’ll see for yourself how it’s organised,” he explained. “Oh, and, the toilet is in the bathroom, so we have to take turns in there.”

Isagi’s eyes twitched a little, as if hesitating between smiling and widening. He ended up letting out an awkward laugh, before fully entering the dormitory and closing the door behind him. He then went to check the bedroom, while Bachira seemed to have a conversation with Chigiri.

The three of them got along well together, sharing a dormitory room helped them acquire a shared organisation, while still keeping their own. In the span of three months, they were already accustomed to their new way of living. They also grew to be good friends, though at first, Chigiri was a bit distant. He came back to the room right after eating with them at the cafeteria for dinner, not staying to talk and went to bed early. It took time for him to warm up to them. He also seemed to avoid conversations that strayed from their initial subject. It intrigued Isagi. Though what retained his attention the most, was Chigiri’s immediate dismissal of any question concerning university specialisations. The changes in his mood each time this subject was brought up, the slight frown on his face, the distant look in his eyes, Isagi had not missed these details. And he felt powerless faced with this issue. He knew that Chigiri’s problems had nothing to do with him, that he should not worry about them. But living with their consequences on his roommate’s behaviour was unbearable. He had to talk to him, and so he did, choosing a calm moment, when he could not make any excuses nor flee, and without Bachira, because his intense curiosity and directness would only make things worse, Isagi figured.

“Hey Chigiri, can I talk to you for a bit?” he asked, sitting down on the ground across the small table in front of the sofa at which the redhead was seated.

“Ehhh, sure? Did I spread my stuff around too much in the bathroom, or anything?” the latter spoke back in a slow manner, visibly hesitant and confused, with one eyebrow raised and a slightly wavering gaze.

“No, no. Though you really should pay attention to the state you leave the sink in…” Isagi replied with a genuine chuckle, half-jokingly pointing out the messiness of his roommate. “But like, we’re friends already, no? I don’t see why you’re distancing yourself so much. If you don’t wanna talk about something, just tell us and we won’t insist. Or if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Because, you know, I know something’s up with you. It’s… kind of obvious...” he continued, dead serious.

Upon hearing that, Chigiri’s first instinct was to flee, aggress, or shut himself completely. His gaze lowered automatically towards the coffee table, his face tensing up. He nipped at the inside of his cheek with the tip of his teeth. He stared down at the wooden surface, looking at it like it had did something wrong to him, to keep himself from looking the same way at Isagi and hurting him instead. His right hand moved underneath the table to one rest against his knee, as a way to ground himself and be more aware of the situation.

“It’s not that simple, Isagi,” he began, his voice deeper and crisper. “This is just a matter of pride and shame, not something you can fix with a few months of studying psychology.”

Silence fell over the both of them, as a way of remaining calm and focused on the issue at hand. Of course, this straightforward remark had left Isagi feeling a little bitter. He knew he had to be patient, but he could not control how he felt.

“I don’t want to fix your problems, that’s not my job. I’m just trying to get you to join us more often so we can have fun, instead of… whatever’s happening with you. I just figured out that simply asking you to act differently wasn’t the right way to do it.” Isagi sighed, explaining his intentions to the best of his ability.

Chigiri listened to Isagi talk, but he still was not entirely convinced. He was ashamed of his choices, of his bad luck. He wanted to hide to avoid being discovered. After all, his situation was sort of ironic. He did not fear others’ remarks, what he despised overall would be them pitying him, or acknowledging how pitiful he was. Chigiri had a strong sense of pride, and the thought of being seen the same way he saw himself after his fall, weak and pathetic, was making him ashamed of himself for being so hopeful even though he could not allow himself to in his state.

“In high school, I was part of a track club…” he finally began, judging that as his friend, maybe, just maybe Isagi would try to understand how he felt. “I was fast. The fastest in all Rakosute. And one day, as I was running, my right knee suddenly twisted sideways. Results: ACL tear, my knee couldn’t be used to run anymore. I had to have crutches for months, could only get back to slowly reeducating my knee after that, and I couldn’t run as fast as before. Even now, I still have to be careful. The doctor said that if I hurt myself again, I would never be able to run again…” he paused, his jaw clenched tight. “And like an idiot, I believed I would be able to run normally again by now, and you know what specialisation I chose? Sports. Fucking sports.”

He still remembered having passed girls in the hallways, and although usually they seemed to admire his genius-level speed and performance, as he walked by, one leaned towards her friend, a hand on the side of her mouth and a judgmental look in her eyes.

“Hey, you still watch the track team’s performances?” she whispered into her friend’s ear.

“Uh, yes, why?” the latter answered.

“You were a fan of Chigiri Hyouma, right? Well, I heard after his knee injury that he can’t run as fast anymore. I also heard there’s people who still favour him… but let’s be honest, he’s nothing without his speed, isn’t he?”

The memory still brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Back then, he had really wondered if his speed was all there was to him. But that could not be, right? There had to be something else! It was after this moment resurfaced in his mind that Chigiri finally gathered the courage to look at Isagi in the eyes. He carried in his eyes the look of someone who had just lain himself bare, abandoned part of his pride.

“Do you think hopefulness is wrong, Chigiri?” Isagi asked after a long silence, and waited for an answer, though it never came. “Knowing that what already happened could happen again made you scared about the future, alright, that’s what’s keeping you from pushing forward. But then you’ll just be way too careful and never get to enjoy running again? I’m asking you this. Would you rather have a straight goal in mind which you will do whatever it takes to complete before it’s too late, or do nothing as long as you’re comfortable, and die before having done anything significant?”

Isagi received no further answer, and seeing that the redhead looked like he was about to completely refuse his advice, he realised that he might have gone back to old habits and to avoid further trouble, he frowned, both at himself and at Chigiri, at the situation itself, and sighed. He would rather avoid conflict, especially since they both seemed to be stubborn. And so he got up.

“I’m not forcing you to listen to me, if you’re fine with the way things are, then ignore this. But please think about it,” he let out, before going to their shared bedroom to get something he needed to take with him, as he planned to head out right afterwards.

Over time, their friendship tightened. Chigiri finally managed to let go of his fear, supported by both his roommates, and somehow, a guy he had met in his field of specialisation. Their friend circle expanded as they met new people from other buildings. Everything seemed fine, and in his first year, Isagi almost lived a normal university life. Key word is almost. Because perfection never comes without an exception. And that exception had a name. A name that left a bitter taste in Isagi’s mouth every time he pronounced it.

Chapter Text

Isagi Yoichi in his entirety. His successes, his luck, his everything. Michael Kaiser hated all of it. In a world where survival depended on the score you would get in exams, in this University, which selected the Japanese high schoolers with the most potential, and the best of international students, though only with a recommendation, a Japanese prototype to elevate the world to a higher level of intelligence, he had no choice but to be the best. He had learnt upon observing others that meritocracy reigns upon every school system ever, whether intentional or not. Being refused instruction from a young age, he had learnt to accept that in this world he could not be apart of, in which he would be forced to participate in order to have a future and live, he was worth nothing. Being uneducated was the worst thing that could happen to a student. He knew that better than anyone.

It all began when he was eight years old. His mother, Alice Love, was already close to becoming a worldwide celebrity, known for her bewitching beauty — Michael thought she was a witch, indeed, but not for the same reasons, because indeed, if she married his father, Frederick Kaiser, a theatre director, when she was still an aspiring actress, it was not for the sole sake of love. Together, they had Michael. Though it seemed to have been a mistake, for Alice did not take well care of her son, and eight years later, they got divorced. Frederick did not seem to recover from this separation, and therefore, stopped taking care of Michael. So it was at nine years old, after Christmas holiday, that he stopped going to school. Days are home were horrible. Michael was not even allowed books in his room to pass time.

One day, though, as his father kicked him out of the house to go steal some food for them — mainly Frederick — he found a small public bookcase in the street. Strange. Since when was it there? He did not remember having seen it the last time he walked by. He told himself he had to get food as soon as possible, otherwise his father would be mad — and he did not like it when his father was mad. He needed to be quick, he could not waste his time on a simple bookcase. He shook his head, looking ahead. He had to go buy food. He put his hands in his pockets, anchoring himself in the feel of the fabric against his fingertips. He walked away from the spot.

But then, a few metres later, he brutally stopped, pouting and furrowing his eyebrows, restless and preoccupied. His hands fidgeted with the insides of his pockets, rubbing the fabric together. His eyes wandered between the pavement underneath his feet and the street. He looked around, spotting the bookcase he had left. If he brought a book home, he would suffer the consequences. His father did not want any book. Not even if he said they were free. He would not believe him, or say “Go put it back where you found it! If you keep it you’ll forget to return it and then I’ll be in trouble because of you again!”. But if he managed to hide it, maybe… no, he could not hide it. How would he even hide an object that big? Ah, but his father must have drank since he left. He might not even notice…

Michael shook his head again. No. He had to focus on the task at hand. He would get food, right now. He started speed walking. He wanted to escape his own curiosity, escape that bookcase, which seemed to call his name like the devil would. He gritted his teeth, his pace bordering on running. It was a mistake going this way to get to the supermarket. He had to steal some food and come back home quickly.

On his way back from the supermarket, though, his feet found the way to this bookcase again. Was it a sign from God? No, Michael did not believe in God. He did not believe in him, because he had hoped for so many time for a miracle to happen. And it never came. Michael did not believe in him, because his father was Christian. Religions were supposed to make people be good, no? But his father was not a good person. He did bad things to Michael.

He shook off the idea of it being a sign. He sighed. If he was attracted to this bookcase so much, might as well take a look. He approached the glass doors of the case, and looked through them. He was trying to spot a book that interested him. But then, he remembered that he did not really know many books. After a moment, he opened the glass doors and looked at the books closer. These were all grown up books, it seemed. He checked the smaller ones, since he could not bring a big one home (as if he had already made up his mind and wanted one). Their titles were not appealing to him. He spotted ones like Der Fänger im Roggen, or Der große Gatsby. None of them actually sounded like something he would be interested in. But then again, what did he know about books, or even what interested him? So he ran his hand over the spines of all those books, and closed his eyes. He made one fast circle over them, then slowed down, before stopping on a spine that felt short enough to be of a paperback. He grabbed the book as he opened his eyes. He took it without even looking at the cover, and stuffed it as best as he could inside his clothes, trying to make it seem like there was nothing. He then closed the glass doors of the bookcase, and left, making a mental note of where it was located.

At home, he bypassed his father, and headed straight to his “room”, as usual. Nobody wanted him elsewhere, anyway. He took the book out of his clothes and stared down at the stack of paper between his hands, not even caring to sit down. He inspected it. He read the cover first. Die Traumdeutung. Sigmund Freud. Michael slightly frowned. What could this possibly be about? This did not sound like a story, that is for sure. He flipped the book over, though there was no further information on the back. So he opened the book, skimmed through the first pages until he spotted the key words that he needed in order to understand what the book was about. This did not seem to be very entertaining for a kid his age, but well, he only had this to entertain himself or learn. So he sat down on his bed — if you could even call it a bed — and began reading with more attention. He went through the preface, and slowly started actually reading the essay.

This was Michael’s first book. And it surprisingly did not take him long to grasp the basics of Freudian theories, even at his age and with his level of education. He reread it over time, having not found any more similar psychological essays. And as a year went by, he could understand it well. He kept it well hidden under the piles of clothes that sat on the floor surrounding the place where he usually slept, near the window, even as he stopped reading it.

Though the day the police suddenly came to arrest him for a crime he did not commit, and requested to search the house, finding the book, Michael realised just how much it meant to him, oddly. It was just a book about the thing he hated the most, people. But as his father angrily took it upon discovering that it was hidden in his “room” and brought home without his permission, anger boiled inside his veins. He immediately reacted, through the only method he knew and had observed all this time: violence. What could fifteen years old Michael do against a grown man at least twice his weight? Well, a lot, apparently. Because next thing he knew, blinded by rage, he kicked his father’s head hard, which threw him off his balance and down to the ground. The policemen tried to stop him, but they were facing a hurt boy, whose life had been nothing but a living hell, and who had his only consolation almost destroyed, with deep rage consuming him as he blamed the right culprit for all the things that went wrong in his life.

The next month, he was visited in jail by a mysterious old man who called himself Ray Dark — his name did not even sound German. That same man proposed to bail him out, if and only if he accepted to go to school and become the best student, to then attend a prestigious university and make him a next generation prodigy. Michael accepted. He wanted — no, needed — to read more and explore the themes that psychology encompassed. And he needed to understand. He wanted to know why his father had reacted to his mother’s departure by hating and abusing their son for eight years. And most of all… he wanted to feel human. Because shitty leftovers like him should not exist in this world. But he existed. And he wanted to remain. Maybe this could help.

Ray Dark arranged for him to be enrolled in a private school, where he could study hard and become an elite student. It was a rather small-looking high school in Munich, but the teachings were strict. Students had to work non-stop for seven hours a day, only perfection was allowed. Those who fell behind were not regarded anymore. If one wished for recognition, they had to obtain it through academic efforts. This looked like hell. He was not used to academic stuff, he was rather all about survival. But a high school like that still allowed friendships. And this was where he met Alexis Ness, his first ever friend.

It was his first day in class. The students had to sit through a back to school test, to evaluate their knowledge on different subjects. Alexis stared at the paper on his desk, so hard he might burn a hole into it. Perhaps doing that would help him understand literature better. Perhaps he could even get through English with that technique. Or maybe history, who knows? He had already answered all the mathematics, physics and chemistry questions. It was all too easy for him, his parents being scientists with an awfully strict pedagogy when it came to teaching their field of work. He decided to move onto biology, something that he could manage as well, instead on staring at the paper sheet like it had offended him. He looked around, flipping the stapled pages, trying to estimate the time they had left. Though as he did that, he spotted a boy with striking blonde hair and an intriguing blue rose tattoo on the left side of his neck, sitting crossed-legged, his back against the chair, pen in mouth and a relaxed air to him. He seemed to have finished his test. How strangely fast. Everyone else was still writing answers desperately. Alexis tried to not pay him too much attention and decided to go back to his own test.

In the end, Alexis managed to answer almost all questions. After the test, at lunch, he got up from his seat to go find that interesting guy he had seen during the test, but as he looked towards his seat, his content smile quickly vanished and left a look of confusion on his face. Where had he gone so quickly? Alexis bit his lip for a second, thinking whether he wanted to chase him or wait until the next time he saw him. But he was too curious and restless to simply go on with his day. He needed to talk to him. So he set out to find him through the building’s hallways, practically sprinting between the students, until he finally reached the boy with the long messy blonde hair and the very obvious blue rose tattoo. He did not go unnoticed, that was for sure. Alexis did not know his name. In fact he did not know anything about him excepted that he was probably about the same age as him.

Alexis caught up to the boy, who walked awfully fast, and lightly grabbed his shoulder, panting as the blonde stop and turned half of his upper body around with an intense questioning look that bordered on a glare.

“Wait! What’s your name?” he asked with a light stutter as he was catching his breath.

“Tell me yours first. And why you look so desperate to talk to me, while you’re at it,” the other answered dryly.

“Oh. Du bist ein Berliner, ja?” Alexis recognised the accent. “And, um… I’m Alexis, nice to meet you!” he continued with a polite smile.

The blonde looked the other up and down, his expression a little bitter. Then he turned back to the hallways ahead, and stepped forward. He could not stay in the middle of the hallway. He was hungry. It was up to the guy who called himself Alexis to follow him if he really wished to talk to him, but it did not matter anyway.

“So, um, what brought you to this school? You don’t seem like the type who’d like such environment…” the latter did as expected, hurrying by his side as soon as he noticed that the blonde had already begun walking.

“Didn’t have a choice.” he answered with a shrug, his attention wandering to the windows they passed.

“Ah… me neither, actually. I don’t really see anyone who’d wanna come here without something to push them to,” Alexis began. “But, um, were you finished early with the test? I noticed you while we were in class and you looked like you were finished, so I thought it was kinda amazing, because everyone was still writing…”

“Oh, that,” the blonde let out, putting his hands in his pockets as he seemed to think about what he should say. “I put the answers I knew first and then I wrote random things.”

“What? But unless you’re a genius you’ll fail if you put random things! How many random answers are we talking exactly?” Alexis exclaimed, his eyebrows raised and eyes even bigger.

“Two thirds of the test, I’d say.”

“Wow… good luck... The teachers here are strict as hell…” he warned.

“It doesn’t matter. This is only a back to school test. What’s more important is what is yet to come.”

Alexis stared at the tall blonde. He only knew the boy for a few minutes, but he could feel the weight of those words. He could sense that there was something personal about that reasoning, something deeper, which made him think that maybe he himself was overreacting, he figured. Maybe this test was in fact not determinative of his academic level. This guy seemed to think that starting off as a loser was not a big deal, if you managed to get from the bottom to the top. And Alexis could not help but find a new kind of truth in his words.

A few minutes later, they were sitting at a canteen table, across from each other. They were eating silently. Alexis sensed that the boy in front of him did not like to be talked to very much. So he lifted his eyes from his plate from time to time, observing the slight frown on his face as he seemed to be deep in thought, munching on a piece of bread. His eyes lowered down to his plate as he felt his lips slightly stretch in a barely noticeable smile. This guy intrigued him. Even as he ate, he carried a certain presence to him.

“Michael,” he suddenly blurted out, interrupting Alexis’s train of thoughts.

“Huh?” he lifted his head to look at Michael.

“That’s my name. Michael,” the other repeated.

“Oh! Nice to meet you then, Michael!” he smiled softly, quite satisfied with finally getting his name.

From there, the atmosphere became less distant between them. They quickly got along, and in a week they were already each other’s company of choice. Though what really got them closer was the result announcement of the back to school test. Alexis had received a 2.3, and Michael a 2.9. When they got to talk to each other, Alexis hurried towards Michael and showed him his paper.

“What have you got? I got a 2.3,” he asked.

“2.9,” Michael answered.

“Eh? Really?” he let out, his eyebrows rising. “Wow, how did you manage? You said you put a majority of random answers, though.”

“Doesn’t matter, I passed, no? Watch me get a 1 next time, when I actually know the answers.”

Alexis stared at him for a moment, like in a daze. How could he not admire such confidence? He pressed his lips together, his gawping gaze taking in all the details of the blonde’s arrogant inexpressiveness. He was all that Alexis was not. How was he so sure of himself? What if he did not get the best mark next time? Did he even consider that? There was no certainty that what he said would come true, so why…

Ah. Could it be…?

His heartbeat began accelerating a little, though he did not seem to notice. He was almost sure of it. Michael knew how to make things happen. He was confident in his own abilities, because he knew the formula to guarantee success. And this sent a shiver down his spine, his throat going dry.

“I’ll be sure to pay attention, then,” he let out, his voice slightly wavering, choked up.

And he did, stayed by his side. And by the time they had finished high school, they both had funny faces upon learning that the school had recommended them to an unknown “elite” university in Japan, though upon reflection, Michael remembered Ray Dark talking about something similar when he met him.

And so, the next April, they found themselves flying to Japan, leaving their homeland to go study in a completely foreign place, without knowing what might be waiting for them there. The only certainty: their efforts had paid off. The strangest thing about this sudden departure though, was the stuff they had brought with them. No suitcase, only a backpack each with the essentials. They could not be the only ones who found this suspicious, right?

As they arrived at the airport, they found the blue bus they were supposed to take to get to the campus. They got in, were given phones, and took seat at the back, the bus yet empty. During the first minutes of the trip, everything was quiet. Michael frowned at the tainted glass of the windows, then at the weird device in his hands. How this University was talked about seemed abnormal in itself, but he certainly did not expect whatever this was. He lifted his left hand to the level of his face, holding the branded phone by the corner in front of him. He looked at it for a second, before discarding it inside the net of the seat in front of him with a scoff, then looking “out” the window. Alexis, however, seated beside him, was less relaxed. His fingers were tense, fidgeting with the fabric of his tracksuit. His gaze was fixed ahead. He would be entering an elite university, with Michael. How exciting was this? Yet he could not help but feel tense. This was all so new to him, having been used to a rather comfortable lifestyle in Hamburg. He sort of already missed the smell of chemicals in his parents’ s lab, going to school by train and never trusting their schedule, the taste of authentic German pretzels. He sure had to get out of his comfort zone for good, this time.

Some time later, after what seemed like hours, they finally arrived at the campus, as Alexis was giving Michael tips on understanding how to use this strange phone. They got out of the bus, along with some other students that had got on in the meantime. There was beginning their university life. And although anyone would have hoped to adapt quickly and blend in, this was not their first preoccupation.

Survival was the essence of Aokagi. And that, Michael had already understood upon seeing the look in the director’s eyes as she gave her welcome speech. It was like a sixth sense, he had felt something akin to danger looming over him. Though he had not flinched, brushing this feeling off as a simple moment of weakness. And he was right. As soon as he had stepped inside this lecture theatre, the tall slim man behind the desk had laid the rules plain and simple.

It was discipline which had led Michael to this point, the blue rose on his neck a painful reminder that consistency was the key to success. And it was no different now. It was easier to climb the ladders while having nothing to lose, and that, Michael had. It was with good effort that he managed to come out on top by the end of his first year, something rarely witnessed within the records of the psychology specialisation at Aokagi.

He had then doubled his efforts in his second year, each notion more complex than the other, theory sharpening and getting harder to fully grasp the concepts. But Michael was not one to let himself fall behind, and spent his days and nights studying, until he finally found the perfect technique to fully understand his lessons without having to work overtime everyday.

After having carefully crafted himself a well-deserved place at the very top of his promotion, he entered his third year, ever so confident that this year too, he would not risk losing his spot. After all, if being the best was his power, then what was he without it?

Well, he could not know that. Even as he overheard rumours about some “promising first year” or something like that, that did not change anything about his university life. Or did it? Because as he passed more and more students from all years talking about this same guy, he began to feel his jaw tightening each time he heard the same topic over and over. This was an eye-twitching situation. Because why the hell was he now paying attention to their conversations? He even caught himself mentally making notes of information that circulated.

He was not stupid, though. He recognised curiosity. Though he did not like this a bit. He did not like caring about others, but he also knew that he could not ignore this guy anyway, because he was talked about, so might as well do something out of that curiosity. After all, he did sort of need actual competition, someone who made him look better than the best, which would make him obtain the recognition of the teachers and the qualifications to pursue his studies. He had to check out the guy they were all talking about, see if he could work with that.

Though he did not really need to do anything to meet said guy, and not because there was something so eye-catching to him, but because he had passed him multiple times in the hallways without paying attention. But that was not even a possibility to Michael. Because his eyes were sharp, and he was able to see the potential in others. And yet…

This time, he needed to head to one of his professors’ office to give him a thesis paper in psychopathology due the next Monday. He was confident in his work, and so there was no reason for him to do this, but as he walked, index finger slightly tapping on the back of the stapled paper sheets, he could not help briefly reviewing the information he had gathered in there, wondering if they truly made sense. Though his reflection suddenly got interrupted.

“Isagi-san! Isagi-san!” a voice coming from a lecture theatre shouted, sounding like this person was running after someone.

Isagi? He had heard that name before. And he knew that it was somehow someone that caught his attention, though he still had to pause in his tracks to think. Ah. That Isagi. He let out a scoff, a corner of his mouth raised a little. So this was it, huh? He was going to meet him after all. He looked in the direction of the lecture theatre’s doors as he stood to the side in the hallway, his eyes sharp, as if trying to figure out the entirety of this guy’s complexity as soon as he would exit the room. But he did none of that. Because instead of a smirk, it was a grimace that appeared on his face as he saw who exactly other students were talking about.

A dark haired guy suddenly appeared through the doors. He looked… perfectly normal, in fact. And here Michael thought that the “promising” first year everyone was talking about would have some kind of presence to him, could be noticed immediately and at least looked promising. But no, he looked awfully average to Michael. He could not even truly sense a special talent in him, because he could perfectly see that this guy here was not a prodigy like he thought he would be. Disappointment washed over Michael. He had been interested in someone like that? What a joke.

Yes, a joke.

A pathetic joke, which was oh so laughable, for that precise reason. Because it was pathetic for someone like Michael to have been interested in someone who turned out to be as basic as Isagi Yoichi. But then again, he was not pathetic. He was Michael Kaiser, for fuck’s sake. It was clear who was, between him and the first year. Yoichi was pathetically normal. Though, since he seemed to be regarded as more than average by most, Michael figured he could work with that. All he needed to do was be better than him in all ways, make him the fool of his story, the one who almost reached greatness, then fell from his pedestal upon realising that there was someone whose level he would never reach, made to amuse him with his vain attempts.

He was about to leave, but he changed his mind. Instead, he approached the blue eyed guy, aiming to make it more likely that he would never surpass him. He approached him, his paper in one hand, while he suddenly wrapped his other arm around the shorter one’s shoulders.

“Halo! Yoichi, was it? I’ve heard sooo much about you, that one ‘promising’ first year,” he exclaimed, a smirk on his face and a lingering sarcastic tone to his voice, as he slightly tilted the face of the startled first year towards him with one finger pushing his cheek towards the other side.

Isagi flinched at the sudden physical contact from a total stranger. He turned his head towards whoever that was and was met with a tall blonde with an awful smile, blue hair tips and a blue rose tattoo that was quite hard to miss.

“Who the hell are you? And get off of me…” Isagi asked, trying to push the blonde’s arm away with a sudden shrug of the shoulder.

“Well, I’m Michael Kaiser, the one who’s going to give a purpose to your miserable life,” he explained, as if he was selling miraculous products. “What role will you be playing? I wonder…”

Isagi frowned, his mind desperately trying to make sense of what was happening, though he would rather it was blank. What was this eccentric blue weirdo talking about? He did not want a role?? He did not want anything from him in fact. He wanted to be in peace. And why was nobody trying to help him? He was speaking to a classmate, but it seemed they just vanished into thin air!

“Ah! I know. How about you be my jester, hm? Scratch that, I’m actually not asking for your opinion. You will be the fool, and I will be the emperor with all the prestige. You’ve seen how it is, Yoichi. Only one can be the best here, and only the best are gratified. I’m aiming for this university’s research academy, after getting my PhD. I can’t afford a single mistake, you understand?” the insufferable blonde continued, with a hypocritical tone to his voice and a condescending attitude.

“What the hell…”

“Great!” the taller one cut him off. “Then I’ll be watching you struggle from the top, Yoichi.”

He removed his arm from Isagi’s shoulders and walked away towards his professor’s office, leaving Isagi confused and frustrated in the middle of the hallway.

What the hell just happened? Isagi asked himself. Who the hell was this weirdo? He had just been randomly talked to by one of his senior, most likely, who completely ignored him and labelled him as a fool in front of everyone, and then just left. How totally absurd! Isagi did not understand everything, but what he sure got was that this Kaiser guy was most certainly full of himself, devaluing him to value himself.

And since their first encounter, Michael never ceased to approach Isagi and check on his progress. So at some point, Isagi began to consider him as a rival to surpass, wanting to prove him wrong, that the “fool” could even overthrow the emperor. He was not one to let himself get walked all over.

Chapter Text

“New year, new me.” Or so did most affirm as they entered a new calendar year and made new resolutions, claiming, mostly in delusion, that they would try to become a new, better person. Isagi knew that these were mostly just vain words. But actions speak louder than words, right? Isagi believed that he was able to act upon his words. And so when he said it, he meant it. He would become a different person upon beginning this new year at Aokagi University.

What reason pushed him to want to change, though? Well, he had spent his first year offering his help to the students around him, hoping that everyone would make it to second year without getting expelled for bad marks. But it was not enough.

“Lock off,” he remembered professor Ego, of behavioural psychology and typology, suddenly letting out. “Hasn’t it got into your thick skulls yet, what happens to those who end up last?”

The slender man began listing names, the last thirty names of the first years in psychology.

“All of you. See for yourself. The risks you face, ending up last in this university, will take a toll on your career.”

The man put down the list of students he had in his hands onto the lectern in front of him, then rested his hands onto it. He let out a short sigh, his head dropping forward a little. Then, he stood straight again, pushing his glasses up against the bridge of his nose, a chilling look in his eerily big dark eyes.

“Now, my unpolished diamonds, have you finally understood what the stakes are for you?” he asked, rhetorically speaking. “Starting from next year, you all better give your all to be qualified for third year. Your future is at risk in this place. Make the right choices, and become the best of the best. Research institutes only want the most insightful of you young people.”

Back then, a chill had run down Isagi’s spine. This professor was scaring off most students at Aokagi, even in other buildings. He had a way of carrying himself which inevitably left a few thoughts in the minds of those who crossed his path. He was awfully slender, almost lanky, and his eyes were empty and black, big like those of a tarsier, he always spoke with that serious tone, like every word he said was a threat and an advice at once. But despite his reputation and his intimidating demeanour, the chill that had run down Isagi’s spine had been a chill of excitement. That was odd, right? Why did he have such a reaction, when professor Ego was clearly threatening them with expelling them if they did not act up to his expectations? He himself could not tell for sure. But in that very moment, he had suddenly realised that he had to become the best if he wanted to keep studying psychology here. A surge of motivation had led him to study during the short holidays between his first and second year, do his best to not fall behind. He had learnt from his mistakes, having ended up halfway through the rankings in first year, despite being deemed as “promising” by most of his classmates — he thought that was because he had raised his hand more and more throughout the year, asking questions and giving insights on the lessons. He had visibly mistaken the rules of this strange university. He had helped around too much and focused on his own marks too little.

And so it was why he was standing in front of the lecture theatre’s doors, having went through his first lecture of the semester, his eyes lost in the contemplation of the tiles in the hallway.

This seems about right… he thought. Yes, I’ll review this more thoroughly tonight.

He was just about to move from his spot, back to reality, when he suddenly felt a hand drop on his head. He flinched, already knowing which parasite (because there was only one) had come to bother him on the very first day.

“Halo, Yoichi~” a detestable voice spoke behind him as he turned towards its origin, slapping that hand away from his head. “Aw, don’t be so dramatic.”

“What do you want?” he retorted, not having time for this.

“Hm? Nothing in particular. Just checking on you from time to time, you know… to make sure you’re not falling behind and making a fool of me for trusting you with a role in my story.”

Isagi let out a quiet groan of annoyance at the blonde’s arrogant airs. It was hard not to be annoyed at him, in fact. Since they first met, he had been pestering him about this scenario thing, that he wanted to be the best and see Isagi fall or something like that. Isagi did not quite remember even after hearing it a million times. It had just never caught his attention. But now he realised, Michael was his senior. He had understood this place’s system before him. He sort of regretted not trying harder to prove him that he was not a fool, and not understanding that in here, being the best was the only way of securing your future — and also shutting that pestering blue rose’s mouth.

“If that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave, thank you”, Isagi dismissed any attempt to interact further, evident sarcasm in his voice.

Then he turned back to where he was headed and left, intentionally walking a little faster to increase his chances of escaping the bastard. He soon exited the psychology department and headed outside to a café-restaurant inside this giant campus. He was supposed to meet Bachira and Chigiri there, maybe a few other people if they wanted to join.

He crossed campus, following the central garden’s gravelled pathways to get to his destination. He took his Aokagi branded phone out of the pocket of his cardigan to message Bachira. He started typing, though as his fingers hit the letters on the small screen which he only held in one hand. Though he knew it was not the best idea. He gripped it hard enough, he figured. But he still found out that he was wrong, his foot inadvertently hitting a pointy rock which protruded from the ground. He let out a surprised gasp upon feeling himself almost falling and his phone slipping out of his hand. He caught it just in time, then himself with his dominant leg.

“Watch your steps,” he heard a voice grumbling from his side, then a click of the tongue, as he felt his shoulder accidentally bump against someone.

“Ah, sorry!” he turned, swiftly bowing his head at the person whom he bumped into, only to find an icy glare staring back at him. He seemed to hesitate for a second before continuing, his face still frozen in a puzzled way. “I didn’t mean to bump into you…” he added, awkwardly smiling, trying to be polite.

But the icy turquoise eyes he was met with upon lifting his chin a little did not flinch, and he did not hear any more sound, before the guy suddenly turned with a scoff and walked away, as if nothing had just happened.

Huh? Isagi usually thought himself to remember faces quite well. He had seen this one before. Or did he really? Was it just a lookalike? He would have remembered it if he ever met someone with the same face as the “pride” of the mathematics department, the hot talk in Aokagi from the very first day that Isagi entered university, and even before that, as he had heard. It was obvious this was not Itoshi Sae. This one was taller, it seemed. His hair was dark, his eyes were sharper. The vibe he carried was entirely different, far from the numbers genius’s calmer and more impassive demeanour. A relative, maybe, Isagi figured. If he were to meet him once again, he would ask him. But for the time being, he had a place to be. And so he suddenly got taken out of his thoughts by a notification from Chigiri, saying that they were already at a table. Isagi’s eyebrows shot up, before realising that he had been thinking for too long. He immediately began walking towards the place of rendezvous, with a brisk pace.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late,” Isagi apologised upon sitting at his friends’ table.

“Did that senior bother you again? Is that why you’re, like, twenty minutes late?” Chigiri casually asked him, although there was a bit of his usual irony behind his words.

Isagi rolled his eyes at his tone.

“Well yes and no. He came to bother me but I got away before he could get too annoying,” he began. “But like, does Itoshi Sae have any relatives that you know of?” he then asked them, changing the subject.

“Ehhh, no, not to my knowledge,” the redhead answered. “Why?”

“On my way, I bumped into a guy who had almost the same face, just taller and with dark green hair.”

“Really?—“ Chigiri reacted, but was cut off by an amused voice.

Bachira, in the meantime, had been silently listening to his roommates exchange a few words, his gaze going from one to another. However, his head perked up as he heard the latest news.

“Oh. That’s just Rin-chan,” he chimed in. “He’s Itoshi Sae’s little brother.”

Isagi turned towards him as he said this, looking perplexed and surprised at the same time.

“You know him, Bachira?” he enquired, incredulously.

“Mhm. Or maybe knowing is a bit too far-stretched, but my senior brought him to the arts building once,” the bicolour haired explained.

“Which one? The eccentric one who can’t keep away from my hair or the other eccentric one with a… special perception of things?” Chigiri asked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a slight grimace upon remembering that tall longer haired guy touching his hair without his consent.

“The second one, Shidou. He said Rin-chan would come here after he finished high school and he wanted to show him the arts building ‘just in case’”.

“Itoshi Rin, then…” Isagi tested the name, staring down at the table as his eyebrows slightly lowered. “Do you know his specialisation, Bachira?”

He could not deny that this Rin guy now intrigued him. He had never heard of Itoshi Sae having a brother. He let the encounter replay in his mind, trying to accurately picture his junior’s demeanour. He recalled having noticed a kind of determination in that guy’s gait, his posture straight, that icy gaze fixed ahead, and jaw tight like it was permanently locked in place. And as a psychology student, of course, Isagi could not ignore such a behaviour. Or was it because this concerned the hot topic of Aokagi’s little brother? He could not say for sure, did not quite find a justification for the interest he suddenly had in Itoshi Rin. He was just intriguing. That was all. He carried that same inexplicable energy as his brother — people like them attracted others like magnets, for some reason. And despite the not-so-pleasant interaction between them, the visible tension the other carried, Isagi still could not help wondering about him.

“Ehhh… I don’t know, it’s his first day here so I haven’t seen him today. But maybe he listened to Shidou and chose arts!” Bachira supposed. “But Rin-chan doesn’t seem to like him very much so I don’t know.”

“I mean, I can understand, sometimes Shidou’s a bit…” Isagi hinted at his eccentricity. “Errr, you know. And Rin doesn’t look like the type of person you want to mess with.”

“I’m guessing it’s cause he’s close to his brother, am I right?” Chigiri intervened.

“Mhm. He calls Rin his ‘future in-law’, haha!” Bachira confirmed, finding that nickname funny.

“Wow. That much, huh?” the redhead raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips slightly stretching into some sort of smirk.

Their conversation suddenly got interrupted by a loud exclamation of surprise coming from the entrance of the café. This immediately got the attention of the group. The three of them turned to the origin of the noise, only to find out that there was nobody. But that was only because a guy with a white and green hair suddenly appeared behind Chigiri’s chair and held its backrest as he leaned closer, phone in hand.

“‘Sup, pretty. You got a number? Wanna hang out sometime?” he suddenly asked with a completely straight face, though it was clear he was trying to flirt (?!) with Chigiri.

“Err, I’m a guy,” the latter clarified, cringing at the other’s advances.

“Otoya, stop going ‘round flirting, will ya?” another guy with a strange haircut and a recognisable accent intervened and pulled the other by the back of his collar.

“Come find me if you’re interested,” the white haired still let out before standing next to his friend, ignoring both of their interventions altogether.

“Sorry if he bothered ya. I’m Karasu Tabito, he’s Otoya Eita, nice to meet ya,” the latter introduced them both. A crow, huh? they all thought.

“Oh, wait. You’re the guy Reo was with the other day, right? I’m Chigiri Hyouma, nice to meet you,” he gestured with his head.

And with that, the triangle haircut guy and the redhead began having a full-on conversation, and therefore left Isagi and Bachira alone with their thoughts. Though knowing the hyperactive boy, it was impossible for Isagi to dive into a complex reflection.

“Hey Isagi,” Bachira suddenly spoke to him, his voice carrying a strange tone to it, and the blue eyed one could practically hear the idea that appeared to him. “Wanna leave them be and go do something interesting?”

“Bachira, it’s not really—“ he started, ignoring his internal curiosity, though his best friend did not seem to even try to listen to him.

“Hey, Chigiri, Isagi and I will come back, I have something to show him!” he informed their roommate, who just nodded, used to this sort of things.

Bachira then proceeded to get up, leaving his already finished drink down on the table— drinks which they ordered before Isagi arrived. He then grabbed Isagi’s arm and dragged him away from the café’s terrace.

“Where are you taking me?!” Isagi asked, surprised by the sudden dragging.

“Well, you seemed wayyy too interested in Rin-chan for me to not do anything,” his best friend did not elaborate.

“Huh?”

In a flash, they were standing in front of the arts building. There, multitudes of original looking students gathered in all directions, often with instruments, portfolios, or other objects which served their specialisation. It was a bustling place with lots of diversity.

Bachira guided Isagi through the building, or rather the facility, with how huge this one was. He knew that the current lectures would end soon, and was waiting for that especially. They both walked through the hallways, before the bicolour haired suddenly stopped. In fact, he recalled having heard Shidou mentioning Rin’s knack for abstract art, which apparently left a bittersweet feeling in Bachira’s senior, him being in that precise specialisation and yet sort of proud of Rin for having a natural talent. Which was why they were currently standing in front of a lecture theatre, with on the door written in a quirky font the name of the course taught in there.

A short while later, the doors opened and the first students began walking out in the hallway. They waited, but did not spot the dark green haired boy amongst them. Had he not specialised in arts, in the end? But right as they were about to leave, a familiar face suddenly showed up, exiting this same lecture hall but way after the rest. Bachira did not waste any time. He grabbed Isagi’s wrist and went after their tall junior.

“Rin-chan! Wait for us!” he called out.

“Ugh, great…” said guy mumbled, shooting a bored glare at Bachira.

“Remember me? I was there a few months ago when you came to visit,” the latter asked him.

“What do you want?” The taller one ignored his question and asked one himself, his tone dry and direct.

“To see if you really took arts, and you did. How come you actually listened to Shidou?” Bachira grinned at him, amused by the contradiction between his first opinion on coming to the arts department and his final decision.

“That’s none of your business,” Rin frowned.

Then his eyes landed on the blue eyed beside Bachira, having noticed him too as he was called out to, but not actually paid attention to him. Rin’s pupils briefly dropped, before settling back on his face, sharp and unreadable. What he was doing was obvious to Isagi. But instead of being bothered by that, he gestured with his head.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Isagi Yoichi,” he introduced himself. “I’m Bachira’s friend.”

Rin did not say anything. He briefly nodded, before beginning to walk away. Though the other two followed after him. After a bit, they both caught up to him, and the three of them exited the hallway to walk down the stairs.

“You know, Rin-chan, Isagi was interested in you,” Bachira began.

“Yeah no, you’re twisting things there. I barely asked,” Isagi cut him off, clarifying things. “I was just curious. When I bumped into you earlier I thought your face was familiar, but I would never have guessed that he had a brother,” he continued, turning to Rin.

Though as his gaze settled onto the taller’s face, all it was met with was a nasty glare and a visibly bitter frown. One look at him was enough to understand that this was his cue to shut up. He deduced that his relationship with his brother was a delicate matter. And with this, as they got to the lower floor, Rin’s pace quickened, and both Isagi and Bachira had to do the same to keep up.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Isagi apologised to Rin.

“Both of you fuck off and go bother someone else. I don’t have time for pointless conversations,” he got cut off by the latter’s sharp words.

Isagi looked over at his best friend. Given the mood of the green haired, it would be better not to press on and just leave him alone. He tried to communicate his thoughts with an expressive glance — this was usually enough for them — but failed to keep the bicolour haired from continuing to bother Rin.

“Hey, you know you’re going the wrong way, right?” he let out, even though to Isagi’s knowledge, they were going the right way.

Rin’s eye twitched for a second. How embarrassing would it be if he had in fact taken the wrong turn at some point. Though this was the second which spoiled everything for him, if it was not already a bad day. His day was just about to get worse, as this short hesitation was enough to keep him from getting spotted by a certain nuisance.

“Heyyy, look what we have here,” a guy with spiky blond hair with pink tips and an oddly tanned skin (for a Japanese) suddenly chimed in with a smug voice and a curious expression on his face. “In the end, you followed my advice, huh? Looks like I’ll have a rival this year.”

Rin froze in place. Great. Just great. He thought. As if his day was not tiring enough yet, even though he was not even halfway through it. He tried to ignore the guy, but then again, who the hell could ignore the pestering insect that was Shidou Ryuusei?

“Hm, you got new friends, Rin-Rin?” Shidou’s eyebrows shot up and his lips curled into a teasing smirk, neon pink eyes settling onto the two new faces. “Bee boy and…?”

Bee boy? Isagi thought. Was that how Bachira’s other friends called him? But then he realised. Of course it was about his name, how could he have not known? And if you asked him, even his hair made him look like a bee. He then switched his attention back towards the tanned guy.

“Isagi Yoichi,” he said, with a sign of the head. “From the psychology building.”

“Psychology, huh?” the other let out, before continuing with a louder voice. “Well, nice to meet you, friend of bee boy. Sooo~, y’all here for what exactly?”

“Isagi was interested in Rin-chan,” Bachira answered, wrapping his arm around Isagi’s shoulder.

“Hey, I told you to stop twisting my—“ the blue eyed boy complained, slightly flinching upon suddenly feeling an arm drop behind his nape.

“Ohhh, I see! Then why don’t we all grab some food together? I’m sure Rin-Rin doesn’t have anything better to do anyway, right, lower lashes?” he then leaned closer to Rin, ignoring his personal space.

“Anything would be better than hanging out with you,” the youngest of them retorted.

“Great! Let’s go then!” Shidou grinned, not taking no for an answer.

Without any warning, he grabbed Rin by the shoulder and led him to the entrance of the building, the two others following suit. Isagi was beginning to get why Rin looked on edge around this Shidou guy. He himself preferred peace and quiet sometimes.

“Hey, Isagi, we forgot Chigiri,” Bachira suddenly let out.

Chapter Text

It seemed that the circumstances — hell, even the whole universe! — had agreed to make this day as annoying as possible for Itoshi Rin. If you asked him, of course he would rather stop by the campus’s 7/11 and grab something to eat before returning to his dorm room. Even his roommate was more tolerable than all these hyperactive idiots. At least said guy was quiet and both of them had their own systems that would not clash with each other, from what he had deduced, after all they had only spent little time in their dorm. But no. He was currently sitting at a restaurant table with six nobodies and their annoying blabbering. He knew he could technically just leave. But that would mean being the centre of attention, because there was no way that they would let him, and that he did not like a bit. If anything, he preferred staying quiet and making himself unnoticed, so that they would leave him alone.

Actually, curse him for wanting peace. He had forgotten who he was with. Because even though the others were busy chatting loudly and making his eardrums suffer, someone still noticed him. Curse the pair of deep blue eyes which almost drilled a hole through his head by staring at him so hard. He hated this already. He tried ignoring the glances that the psychology student was giving him after Rin shot him a glare and he stopped staring, but who could truly be unbothered while sensing that they are being observed from time to time?

“What?” he finally let out, though not too loud.

Isagi’s eyes slightly widened as he realised that he had been looking too much, too curious. He glanced at the rest of the group, a little embarrassed of having got caught. But then, he discreetly moved a little closer to Rin.

“Sorry, I was lost in thoughts…” he explained.

Rin’s eyes sharpened as Isagi spoke. By the way those blue eyes were locked on his face during this time, it was obvious. He had mentioned not knowing that Itoshi Sae had a brother, and he seemingly was not finished with associating him with that shitty older brother of his. It pissed him off, that everyone just seemed to put them together, or worse, compare them, just because of a surname and a physical similarity. They were completely distinct persons, for fuck’s sake! Why reduce him to a shitty status such as “Itoshi Sae’s little brother”?

“Cut it out,” he muttered, a frown appearing on his face.

Isagi seemed confused at first, but then put two and two together and shut his mouth. Rin had probably guessed what he was thinking about. He must have been used to this, to automatically know when someone was indeed associating the two Itoshi. Isagi immediately understood that he needed to change the subject.

“So… Why did you choose to study arts here?” he asked, though he quickly realised that his question only made things worse.

Indeed, Rin was shooting a piercing glare at Isagi. That question, with this infuriatingly ignorant and genuinely curious tone, only left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“None of your business,” he crisply retorted.

He remembered it clearly, three months before Sae entered Aokagi. It was cold outside, and inside the Itoshi household, all were reunited around a kotatsu, their legs warm under this small table’s built-in covers. It was dinner time, but as usual, despite the atmosphere being proper for a cosy family moment, everyone was silent. That is, until the father brought up a letter intended for Sae.

“Sae, it seems you’ve received a letter today. Your mother and I think that it comes from a university, given the logo on the back of the envelope,” he announced.

He then got up and went to fetch the letter, to then give it to his older son before sitting back down. Sae immediately took the envelope, not looking particularly surprised. He silently opened it, under the expectant eyes of his parents and Rin. He unfolded the paper and read its contents.

“It says I’ve been invited to attend an elite university,” he stated.

His mother’s lips could not resist curling into a relieved — or perhaps proud — smile. Neither Sae nor Rin could tell which one it was. She moved to where her older son was sitting and took his hands in hers, holding them together between the both of them.

“That’s a great thing you’ve achieved, Sae. Your father and I are proud of your accomplishments,” she said.

Ah, so it was pride. Both sons thought at the same time. Though as Rin looked at his older brother, he could not help but notice a strange expression on his face. His eyes were unusually empty. This caused a sting inside Rin’s chest. Their parents expected Sae to continue doing what he was best at: mathematics. But Rin knew. Sae had once revealed his secret to him. In fact, he hated the subject.

A month later, after dinner, as Rin was about to head upstairs to shower, he overheard his brother as he was showing something to their parents. He stepped down the few steps he had climbed and stood at the entrance of the kitchen to hear better.

“We have to sign the documents for your choice of specialisation in university, is that right?” he heard their mother ask.

He could only vaguely hear the quiet hum that Sae let out as an answer.

“Okay, let me take a look then.”

Silence.

“Alright, done,” she began. “We’re truly proud of your choice, Sae…” she added, her voice soft.

Rin froze, his eyes wide and fists slowly clenching at his sides. What? He thought. Why didn’t she say anything?! Because indeed, his brother was supposed to have chosen physical education. That was what he told him he would choose. Had he been lying all this time? Rin’s mind became a total mess. His heartbeat quickened. Was he angry? The muscles around his eyes were twitching, and his vision was oddly blurry. Was he sad? The tumult of emotions messed with his senses. After hearing this conversation, he rushed upstairs to his room, not even bothering yet with the shower. He was not in the mood for this.

Rin had known back then that choosing to avoid mathematics together was only a delusion. All the time spent together, the secrets they shared, all gone in a single night, like the snowflakes falling outside, swept away by the wind. And for that precise reason, because he could no longer follow his brother in whatever he did, he had to walk his own lonely path. Stumbling upon an old empty canvas from his childhood and half-dried paint had been enough for his hand to express what he had struggled to, and then with a mysterious coincidence, he had visited an art building at a university.

But a complete stranger did not need to know all of that. Rin would hate it if even a member of his family learnt what happened. Therefore, thank the deities who made Isagi actually shut up after that. Rin felt like he would lash out at him if he asked one more personal question.

Though after some time, he figured that he would never get rid of that annoying idiot. They were now two months in, and despite knowing that people like Shidou or even Bachira would bother him, he did not expect that guy to keep talking to him. Most people usually avoided him after witnessing his rude behaviour, after all. But that Isagi Yoichi was not “most people”, right? Since he would come to bother him anyway, desperately trying to get his attention. Rin thought this was ridiculous. Isagi Yoichi was just a larvae in his way. Yet he found no interest in stepping on it, he always avoided it and went on ahead. But it kept coming back.

And this time, it was no different. Isagi had come to get Bachira and go hang out after his lectures, but the bee boy was not finished yet with his own. So he wandered through the arts building, having gotten there too early and a bit uncomfortable, alone in another building. This evening, these usually bustling hallways were almost empty. It was a rare occurrence. Isagi’s eyes wandered around, landing on the coloured walls, which had been painted by the students. It looked like a giant fresco, each element seemingly telling the story of a student, the art style completely different from one to another. He stopped in front of a strangely shaped dolphin. His head tilted sideways, an eyebrow raised. The contours were composed of different thin brushstrokes and random shapes, fading inwards to reveal a blueish grey splashed in some places with vibrant neon colours. The dolphin had pointy teeth which looked that they were drawn by a child, but its eye, it looked more realistic than any detail of the mural painting. It was almost unsettling, how it was staring at him unwaveringly. He stepped closer, squinting at the bottom of its tail. Ah, no wonder. It was Bachira’s painting. Isagi chuckled to himself, recognising indeed his best friend’s work. It was so fitting. After lingering for a second more, he went back to sauntering across the hallway. The mural kept going, the pieces of art on the wall got scarcer, making room for an elegant mix of light blue, turquoise and white, like a wave, a stream of water flowing down the hallway, meandering between the smaller paintings around it. Isagi followed that string of blue. He followed it, until it turned dark, these smooth ondulations spreading across the wall like spilled watercolour, the tints of turquoise turning teal and forest green, blended together with black in some spots, the shapes inside a pitch black trail, fading as it reached an ajar door.

This was the longest mural painting in this hallway. The smooth elegance of it all, like a string of water floating and flowing mid air, twirling around in a flawless strand, then suddenly becoming dark and extensive, spreading like moss on a tree, fascinated him, in a way. It seemed to stir in him a feeling of serenity, letting his eyes follow the blue stream, until they got lost in the vast darkness in which it faded.

Out of curiosity, he approached the door, swearing to himself that he was just taking a peek inside. He did not dare get too close, scared he might accidentally push the door open and alert whoever was inside. Instead, he stood where he could just see what was happening past that door. But as he did, he did not expect stumbling upon such a strange scene. In the centre of the room, barely illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun, stood a 120x120cm canvas. Around it, on the plastic-covered floor, were scattered several gouache tubes, watercolours, and even spray paint bottles. There was paint everywhere, the studio was chaotic, and the painting was no different. The shapes could barely be made out, and in the partial darkness, it was even harder to see. Isagi could recognise dark colours such as greyish blue, dark green, teal, blood red, and surprisingly, unsaturated magenta. Though there were barely any discernible shapes: a dark background, a mess of dark green, teal brushstrokes here and there, and a fading scribble of magenta, barely even noticeable from far away. Isagi slightly moved to try and see what was happening. He found a hand hovering into the air, firmly holding a dripping paintbrush. He did not have time to ask himself whose hand it was, because it let dark red paint drops splatter onto the canvas with a sharp movement in front of it.

Isagi moved a bit more to the side, finally catching a glimpse of the artist who was painting this strange canvas. He was standing there, staring at his work like there was nothing else in the world. His eyes were wide open, pupils turning with quick movements towards the colours which he had scattered around the room. He abruptly grabbed a gouache tube and stared at it, before discarding it and choosing another colour. Isagi had never seen him like that. He had never known that Rin would look like this when painting, the tip of his tongue continuously running over the side of his lower lip. He looked so focused on his task.

For some reason, Isagi found himself unable to take his eyes off of him. It was an intriguing sight, Rin being so passionate, so concentrated. His instinctive techniques, the anarchy in his brushstrokes — hell, even his way of moving — it was all so unexpectedly beautiful. Is this what Rin’s art looks like? Isagi thought, though he obviously could see it with his own two eyes. He pressed his agape lips together, trying to re-centre himself and rather be able to think clearly. Rin’s canvas was so much of a mess that he was surprised by this odd style. The younger one generally carried a proud, elegant attitude, putting aside the frown which occasionally showed up on his face, and his retorts. Isagi knew that if you asked the students at Aokagi, they would deem him fit to be a model, even, given the looks he had already seen people give Rin. He could honestly not disagree, despite knowing the behaviour of his junior.

But as he witnessed the scene, his eyes scanning the painting, he realised. He somehow managed to trace the dark colours, and especially the little bit of magenta, back to the aggressive reactions he usually got whenever he spoke about Sae to Rin. Were those truly linked? He supposed, knowing Rin. The turquoise-eyed usually did things with calculated precision, Isagi had observed that already, from the steps he took to the stillness of his body when he got irritated. But this? This was messy, sloppy, unpredictable. But Isagi could guess that much, he knew that art was a form of therapy, that it could bring out one’s inner turmoil. And Rin’s artwork truly looked like the transposition of a tumultuous inner state. For the first time, Rin made complete sense to Isagi. Of course, the only way he would freely express his resentment toward his brother would be through art. And he had somehow been lucky enough to witness this moment.

After a minute, Isagi decided that it would be better if he left. Bachira would be finished with his lecture any moment now. He had better head to the second floor to wait for him. But as soon as he turned to walk away the door behind him suddenly swung open, and he found himself facing a glaring Rin.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the taller one scowled.

“Ah… maybe I shouldn’t have been curious,” Isagi muttered. “Look, I’m sorry okay? I was just passing by and happened to see you, that’s all.”

Rin’s eyes narrowed, before he closed the door behind him, making sure that nobody else had seen what was happening in the studio. Then he stepped closer and leaned forward. A shame that his hands were covered with paint.

“Not a word to anyone. You understand?” he spat out.

“Yes, yes, I won’t spill,” Isagi replied, biting the inside of his cheek as he saw the splashes of paint on Rin’s face. “You know you have paint of your face, though. Right?”

“It’s not funny,” he clicked his tongue, seeing how Isagi was holding back his laughter.

Rin glared at him for a few seconds, before stepping backwards and turning his back to him. How the hell could Isagi act so… normal, after seeing him in this state? Could he not be more shocked? At least for Rin’s sanity. Because how could he just ignore the elephant in the room and casually address something completely insignificant instead? But he could not complain about this. At least he did not comment on his weird technique, nor on the face he made, and even less on the painting itself. Because Rin was not an idiot. He knew that Isagi was smart enough to interpret an artwork, especially if it was made so passionately, lay his raw self out for the world to see. He also knew that Isagi would make the link. His eyes always looked like they were seeing invisible connections. It pissed him off.

“Aren’t you gonna wash that off, though?” Isagi asked, following a soft sigh.

Rin only responded with a quiet groan. Isagi’s lips faintly stretched in an amused way, before he oriented his body towards the hallway, in direction of the toilets. He was about to accompany Rin there, but before he could open his mouth, the latter swiftly passed him and headed down the hallway before he could even move from his spot. He followed quickly after him, faintly rolling his eyes as he caught up with his pace.

Both then entered the toilets, and Isagi stood by the sink while Rin turned on the water, first washing his hands, then trying to remove some of the paint with his wet hands. He then pushed back his hair which bothered him, before rubbing his cheeks quite hard, even tried to scratch the dried substance off, but quickly gave up and ended up using soap. For his face. But Isagi did not dare intervene. He had no better option to offer anyway. Unless Rin was finished with his activity and accepted to come with him to his dorm room, because there were face products in the bathrooms of each dorm and he knew that it would not bother Bachira if he went quickly, and Chigiri was out with Kunigami (the guy from his building). So he let Rin wash the paint off with the hand soap of the toilets, grimacing at not being able to do anything to prevent him from doing that.

To think about it, Isagi found it very unusual to see both of Rin’s eyes. He had actually never seen them so clearly before, with his hair always covering the majority of the right side of his face. His gaze found itself lingering there a moment too long, through the mirror. He liked seeing new things about the people around him, like details which revealed so much about them. Why did he hide his eye? He thought Rin looked better with his face showing almost entirely, and was sure he would not be the only one to have that opinion. Was there even a specific reason for him to do that? Knowing Rin, it was likely. Spending two months hanging out rather often with him, or in groups — which the turquoise eyed absolutely despised being part of — had given him the opportunity to figure his junior out, and the latter usually never did anything without a reason.

Rin had finished washing the paint off before Isagi even realised that a few minutes had already passed. It brought him out of his thoughts and his attention shifted to Rin’s hand as he reached for his personal handkerchief* and dried his face with it. Isagi found that his junior’s face looked less tense now. Maybe a splash of water had made him feel better. Or he had just forgotten about Isagi having seen him paint. In any case, as Isagi’s eyes roamed across his face…

Oh.

“Wait, Rin,” he let out as he was about to put the handkerchief back in his pocket. “You still have some paint here,” Isagi then pointed to his jawline.

“Here?” Rin asked, his finger trying to locate the spot, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

Isagi shook his head, before glancing at the mirror, and then back at Rin. He knew that the latter would probably kill him for this, but he still stepped closer and moved Rin’s finger to the trace of paint that was left behind his jawline, right below his ear.

Rin did glare at him, and even thought of slapping his hand away. But the act was too quick for him to have time to react. His brain was like short-circuiting, he was not used to being approached without the intent of simply annoying him, or being “friendly”, which he did not need or want. Because of that, he had to pretend not needing his intervention, that he could have found the rest of paint himself by trying harder. Admitting needing the help of someone was admitting to being dependent. But he was eighteen, and promised himself not to depend on anyone ever again.

Rin huffed and washed the last bit of paint, dried it, before really stuffing his handkerchief in his pocket and simply leaving the toilets. This blue eyed idiot was infuriating. So fucking annoying. Why could he not just make unwanted comments or pity him like before? That way, Rin could have reasons to hate him! But no. Why did he even expect a psychology student not to learn to understand boundaries and adapt his behaviour over time? This was ridiculous. Ridiculous how he let himself be affected by the change in how Isagi Yoichi, of all people, treated him. He should not care. But then again, he felt like spending too much time with other people had impacted him in a negative way.

Chapter Text

How oddly sweet were summers in Aokagi… especially in July, Isagi figured. Because in mid July, before the summer holiday period, the university always liked to organise a huge exhibition covering two to three days in all buildings. It was a bit like a convention, an official event. Each building had its own unique style of exhibition, each year had an entire section dedicated specifically for their work. The administration had even accepted food stalls on the campus, different from the one in their usual restaurants.

This time, Isagi had submitted a request to be part of the organising committee for the event, in addition to having to make his own project to display. He had been accepted, since the former representative of the psychology department had graduated. And therefore, here he was, in the big lecture theatre in which every first year had to listen to a welcome speech, wondering if this university even had normal meeting rooms. Or anything normal to it, in fact. Professor Ego, and not Ms. Teieri, was standing in front of the lectern, watching students take place in the lecture theatre. He looked bored out of his mind, with prominent dark circles under his eyes and a relaxed posture that only screamed “I want to go home”.

“Well, good morning, organising committee members,” he began after everyone was there, audibly rushing his introduction. “I’ll be straight to the point here, dear students. This year, we have decided not to impose any general theme. You’re all free to present whatever you want, as long as it’s appropriate.”

The tall man paused, watching the students’ reactions, his gaze sharp and observant.

“Anyway, as you know, this committee will be in charge of helping the professors and administrators who are in charge of organising this event. You will have two meetings a week, to discuss exhibition activities, reserved spots, et cetera. Good luck,” he ended his short speech, leaving.

Professor Ego was more invested when it came to teaching, Isagi observed. He did not seem to like administrative topics. Poor director would have to do administrative tasks all by herself, given the amount of professors who acted just like him when it came to this. Suddenly, someone cleared their throat in the room. A new person was standing behind the lectern.

“For new faces here, I’m the committee president, Itoshi Sae,” the pink haired man informed, more out of obligation than anything. “I suggest we just keep last year’s organisation. Any objections?”

His turquoise eyes calmly scanned the room, looking for any raised hand. Meanwhile, Isagi was left perplexed. He was new to this committee, and was sure there were other new members as well. So why did Sae not explain last year’s organisation? Surely he did not think that everyone already knew it beforehand, right? He said himself that there were new people here. Isagi found this odd and quite unfair. Therefore, as Sae was about to continue, he raised his hand.

“Excuse me, shouldn’t we new members at least have an explanation on the functioning of this system?”

“I was about to tackle this issue,” the president let out, his voice dry as if Isagi was purposely wasting his time. “We usually give each year their usual respective floors. In this place, there’s a general exhibition featuring social life here. And in the gardens and bordering the pathways, there are food stalls. Hope I answered your question.”

“Are interactive booths a thing? I haven’t seen any last year,” Isagi continued.

“You went to the wrong places.”

“Then what about a general end of exhibition event?”

“Elaborate on your idea,” Sae raised an eyebrow.

“How about a contest? Something with multiple categories, specific to each building… like ‘best athletic performance’, ‘most convincing debate subject’, ‘most ingenious experiment’, et cetera. Something fun yet realistic, with objective categories,” Isagi suggested, his eyes wandering and hands moving to mime some words, as he was thinking while speaking.

Sae simply stared at him, his expression ever so serious. His eyes then went over the different members of the committee. Maybe this was not the best idea for a serious university exhibition, but it was true that since he had been part of the committee, things had always been the same, and as he had heard from his seniors, before he came to Aokagi too. He hummed, deep in thought. Maybe someone in this room was not as much of a sheep as the rest, after all. This guy seemed to take initiatives, although hesitantly at first, and innovate… as well as quickly adjust his suggestions. This seemed objectively useful in office jobs. Never mind — he was a psychology student, and in research, it was even more essential. To Sae, a researcher who was not resourceful enough, did not adapt to whichever situation or topic he encountered, or even have the courage to try new ideas and methods, suggest them and defend them, did not have what it takes to be one.

“Isagi Yoichi, was it?” he asked. “How do I make sure that this original project of yours won’t cause any issues during the event?”

“Well,” the blue eyed began. “If you’re willing to consider my suggestion, then I propose we make a bet. Since this is new for everyone here, and as the president of the committee, you’re best fitted for finding any logistical and technical mistakes, I’d say the most efficient way to ensure the functioning of this project would be for you to work on it with me, and leave the usual organisation to the rest of the committee. If you’re so concerned about the smooth running of this event, then be the official supervisor of my project. That way, with your experience and my ideas, we will be able to work this through smoothly. What do you say?”

Sae’s eyebrows imperceptibly furrowed as he stared straight at his junior. The silence that followed was long, tense. Isagi swore that he could see the president’s brain working through his eyes, as they were fixed on him.

A challenge? Sae thought. He could hear it in his tone of voice, and had read between the lines — it was obvious, he was challenging his competency as the president of the committee. What he had really heard was “If you’re so worried, then help me. You must be capable of it, no?”. Would his junior be a trustworthy employee? Or even a project manager? He had to recognise that his determination was a positive asset that was necessary to go through with any project. He could give him a chance.

“So, a partnership?” he sought to clarify.

“Yes,” Isagi answered, his expression not losing its seriousness. “And if it fails, I’ll quit the committee.”

Sae raised an eyebrow. Another silence followed, this time less tense and more anticipatory, everyone listening intently for the president’s decision.

“Has anyone got anything to say against this project?” the Itoshi finally let out, inviting the members of the committee to join the discussion.

Various people in the room looked at each other. Others took a thinking air, trying to come up with an issue to signal. But in the end, the room remained pretty quiet, apart from a few whispers. Nobody raised their hand to contest anything. And seeing this, Sae closed the debate.

“Alright, then. If this is settled, I will play along with your suggestion.”

The project had been approved by the committee, and therefore could begin. Therefore, during the next week came daily meetings, briefings, and group discussions. The organisation committee got together a few times, certainly. But the heart of the organisation of this event was the work that Isagi and Itoshi Sae did together. This had Isagi’s friends complain a little about how he never ate lunch with them anymore, since this was the time he usually met Sae. Though there was only one person who did absolutely not like this.

It was however in a fit of unluckiness that Rin had decided to go to the campus’s restaurant on this first Tuesday of July. Far from tolerating the crowd and noise of the place, he had been surviving solely on food from the 7/11. This was not as convenient as it seemed, though. His palate was used to the same types of food everyday, but even his beloved habits had limits. He had enough of snacks, he needed an actual meal.

So he left the art building after his morning lectures, his stomach empty and his head hurting from the humid heat which only felt worse in closed spaces. He passed through the fully bloomed and blossomed gardens, glancing down at the pink flowers scattered across the bushes, and up at the vibrant green sakura trees — theirs having already wilted and fallen since April, letting the leaves grow instead. He frowned. This bright and scorching sun was going to burn him down if he did not get to the restaurant fast enough. He crossed the fountain plaza, weaving through the groups of students who had gathered to enjoy the warmth of summer together. He found that this plaza was always crowded, to his utmost displeasure. As he finally reached the pathway across the garden, he clicked his tongue, having slightly shoved some students as he was trying to make way to get out of this mess.

As he arrived to the restaurant, Rin was grimacing, his face a bit sweaty and his shirt slightly sticking to his skin. He despised the sensation. To try and distract himself, he attempted to spot a vacant table, preferably one with some shade. Though instead of a table, something else caught his attention.

Nii— Shitty brother?

His eyes landed on a familiar pink head, sitting across from someone, visibly explaining something to his interlocutor, who was in fact none other than…

Isagi? Why the hell was he talking to his brother?

Rin’s jaw tightened. He hated how casual the whole situation looked. Why did they seem to know each other well? Why was Isagi listening without interrupting, his eyes so focused and interested? Why did his brother talk so much? Why did he not act this way with him?!

Before he knew it, Rin’s thoughts began spiralling out of control. It was not like him to act this way. Stop this. He had to calm down. He was not being rational. You’re being pathetic. Emotions are weakness. He did not even realise that his expression was scaring off people around him, who were giving him weird glances and sidling away. He did not realise how his fists were clenching, his nails digging small crescent marks into the palms of his hands.

After a while of being frozen in place, the intensity of his emotions paralysing him, he finally decided to turn away and leave the restaurant. He could not bring himself to see this. He knew that this was probably for a project anyway. He recalled Isagi having told him that he had entered the event organising committee, of which his brother was the president. He knew that they were probably just discussing logistics. But this felt so frustrating to Rin. He could not understand why his brother would be so casual with a random such as Isagi.

This had ruined his appetite. In the end, he went straight back to the art building, not even bothering to go buy himself something else to eat. He would skip lunch today. Hunger did not matter anymore.

What mattered, however, was that he had to stop thinking about this. Because even though he knew that this was just committee work, he couldn’t help himself from brooding about the scene he had seen, and that for the next two days. The mere mention around him of this committee his brother and Isagi were part of was enough to make his stomach upset. He always looked so grumpy that everyone avoided him, and even Bachira had backed off as he was met with one of Rin’s worst glares.

Thursday’s lectures had passed with him not able to fully concentrate. Parasitic thoughts were always interrupting his reflections. Therefore he exited the art building with a yawn, worn out by the exhausting battle he had with his own mind. He walked down the pathway from his building, running a hand through his hair to get them out of his face. After all, they kept his right eye warm and with the heat of July, this made him sweat a little. It felt satisfying to finally feel the cool air on the right side of his face at sunset. This almost swept all his troubles away. And it would have, if not for the fact that uncovering his eye gave him more visibility, and therefore made him notice movement as he was about to take a turn left, towards the fountain plaza and farther so, the dormitory buildings.

In front of him, a little to the left, between the trees bordering the pathway and past it, his eyes spotted two silhouettes, standing outside a building — he could not see the name of it, but he knew exactly which one it was, for having been dragged there quite a number of times by Bachira. Isagi and his brother.

Again?! Just as he thought that what happened last time would only happen once.

This time, however, it was worse. Because as he continued walking, slower, the both of them stepped onto the secondary pathway, and it was as they reached the main one that he saw it, standing a good five metres away. Isagi was talking, exposing ideas about a “category” of some sort, as Rin overheard. He was doing gestures with his hands, focused in his explanation while looking at Sae like he was nothing less than a friend. And Itoshi Sae seemed to listen intently, ready to cut him any moment to expose any inconsistency. But this was not what made Rin completely freeze in place, his eyes wide and his blood beginning to boil and pump inside his ears, cutting the environmental noises out. No. If anyone else could see through Rin’s eyes, they would immediately understand:

Acknowledgment.

Sae, his older brother, was acknowledging the competency of someone else. Someone who was not Rin. It was not evident to recognise in his expression, given that it always either looked neutral or negative. But Rin knew. Rin had known him since birth. He was his dear brother, the most important person in his life. How could he not see the difference?

Are you fucking kidding me?! How dare you?! Rin could not believe his eyes. The muscles of his face tightened so much that he figured his skin might tear. I’m the one you should look at like that! Not that insignificant bastard! What did he find interesting in him anyway? It was not like he was exceptional. What did his brother see in Isagi that he could not see in him?

Blinded by rage and frustration, Rin stormed off, going back to the art building, before either of them could notice him. Why would they anyway? They were so busy with whatever. If they did, they would look right through him.

His eyes felt warm by the time he entered the building. Were they watering up? No, crying would be pathetic. He narrowed them and glared ahead, and figured that his feet were unconsciously taking him to the studio he was authorised to use for his private artworks. Upon reaching that door, the water stream mural which he had painted guiding him there, he hesitated. Why was he going there anyway? Though he still unlocked the door, entered and slammed it shut. There he was. The studio looked just like he had left it the last time he had gone to finish the painting Isagi had caught him creating. He stood in place, his eyes landing on that same canvas, protected by a white cloth. He glared at it for a while, his breathing heavy and his head reeling from the overwhelming amount of brooding thoughts that were going through it at once. His body tensed up. He could feel it, this tickling inside the muscles of his arms, the stabbing sensation deep in his core. He was holding his body back. Everything in him was leaning towards violence, but he had to calm down. He could not let his emotions get ahead of him again.

But this shitty painting was bothering him. Fuck. He could not control his frustration. He walked towards it, and stood in front of it. He brusquely removed the cloth from it, unveiling the dark colours and the pink details of the painting. His eyes immediately locked in on this very pink. Sae. His dear brother — the one who had betrayed him again. His hands curled into fists. He gritted his teeth, his muscles so tight that his arms were beginning to slightly tremble.

Crash!

Within seconds, the canvas and the easel that held it came clattering down on the plastic-covered floor, into the gouache tubes and aquarelles. Reason had been useless. He needed to break, to damage, to destroy everything which fuelled his rage. Out of sudden disgust for the creation he had painted himself, which featured Sae and had been seen by Isagi, the same people who had made him lose it, he violently stepped onto it. The fabric got slightly torn off the wooden frame, and the dried paint faded and faintly cracked under his foot. He kicked the canvas away and watched it hit the wall, panting a little from having partially exteriorised his emotions. His eyes then landed on the paint tubes which were scattered all over the room. Out of a sudden, he stepped towards one particular tube, and bent down to pick it up. He stared at the coloured plastic in his hand for a while, before glancing at a wall. Except it was not just a wall.

A while ago, Rin had asked professor Lavinho, whom he knew was “chill” enough to accept, for a specific canvas. The next day, Shidou had miraculously found out about this and came to help him move it into his studio. It was a 150x200cm piece, a bit hard to get inside a room alone, since he could not unlock the door himself. He had immediately applied a prime coat, though he had not touched this canvas anymore. Now, it was placed on a sturdy easel which could hold it up for him to be at ease when paining, near the wall.

This was perfect.

Without giving it a second thought, he opened the paint tube. He approached the blank canvas, observing it. Then he began.

Squish! Splash! Scratch!

Rin splattered paint everywhere on his canvas, then with a brush, his hands, even a spray bottle, he gave the painting a shape, a meaning. It was only him and his art, in this room. He did not see anything else, did not need to. His eyes, his mind, his movements were all focused on a single point: this big rectangle surface. With his eyes wide open and his lips parted, he moved around, spreading his frustration on the formerly white fabric. It almost looked like a dance, if not for the sheer violence and brutality of his technique. It was a battlefield, a fight scene, in which he was the beast, the monster that fought with all its might.