Chapter Text
He was the son of a former serial killer, the only male firstborn in a long line of female firstborns. He was an anomaly in that sense, but it was the only thing that set him apart as far as anyone else was concerned. He was just as apathetic as they all were, but there was something different about him. Something that Ryoba could never quite pinpoint. It was likely a good thing that he wasn't aware of his peculiar circumstances.
"Good morning," Ayato greets, his dull eyes meeting his mother's shining grey ones.
"Good morning, my dear!" Ryoba returns cheerfully, setting the now-empty pan in the sink for cleaning. Ryoba Aishi was dressed in a plain purple shirt and sky-blue jeans. She wore a frilly pink apron, and a bright smile was plastered on her face.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, as it usually was when his father was away. Ayato looked up to gaze at his mother, watching her happily humming to herself, and he couldn't understand why she was so cheerful. Had something happened? He shook his head. It didn't matter; his mother would tell him if he needed to know.
Ayato was quick to stand to wash his dish, drying his hands on the hung rag. Slinging his bookbag over his shoulder, he made his way toward the door. He sat at the step of their genkan and slipped his shoes on.
"Have a good day at school, dear," Ryoba sang, waving a hand in her son’s direction.
Ayato simply nodded, letting the danger that lurked in her tone wash over him as he stepped out. The walk to his school wasn't particularly long, but it wasn't short by any means. Ayato wasn't in any hurry; his leisurely pace would get him to school on time. He was anything if not punctual.
It had only been a week since the year started up again, and as far as Ayato could see, it would be just as his first and second years were. Perhaps he was being far too lenient in his search. Perhaps he needed to put in more effort, but there was a lingering hope. A ghost of a feeling that never got to form. His mother found his father in high school, and Ayato had a little less than a year to meet his soulmate. He sighed, his downcast gaze preventing him from seeing the person standing on the street, impatiently tapping their foot on the sidewalk, brow furrowed in clear irritation. Ayato bumped right into them, his bag almost slipping right off his shoulder. The mystery person whipped around to scowl at him.
"Ah," Ayato rubbed his nose in faux injury, "I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." he apologized, his cloudy eyes rising from the ground to look at the person standing before him. He wore a uniform mirroring Ayato’s own; they were tall, and the paleness of their skin contrasted sharply against the dark colors of their school uniform. Neatly combed orange hair sat atop his head; his matching tangerine eyes were wide with surprise, and the irritation from a moment ago was gone.
Ayato stood there waiting for a response, but he didn't receive one. Confusion brewed in him at the shocked gaze of the student. A shy pink dusting colored the stranger’s pale countenance, and his lips opened and closed, but no reply was managed.
Ayato stood still, waiting, but the silence reigned. The silence stretched, and when it seemed like he wouldn’t receive a response, he spoke up, "I should get going-"
"Osano!" Came a wheezy call. The male in front of him spun around to the source of the voice. His surprise quickly morphed to pure annoyance.
"Took you long enough!" 'Osano’ yelled, his stunned face gone, and settled on a scowl instead. He stepped toward the other student who arrived, bent over with his hands resting on his bent knees, struggling to catch his breath. Ayato looked towards the pair and recognized Taro Yamada. They had a few classes together last year, and they'd spoken a handful of times, but their relationship go past friendly acquaintances. Ayato mentally shrugged and moved to continue his walk, but it seemed his movement attracted the attention of Yamada.
"Ah, Aishi-kun!" Yamada called out, "Good morning!"
Ayato turned and nodded, offering his own greeting in turn. He moved to turn away again, but a hesitant call had him pausing.
"Would you like to join us? We could walk together." Yamada suggested, "We're all going the same way anyway." He added hurriedly when Osano seemed like he was going to protest. Ayato slipped his phone from his pocket and checked the time. It wouldn't make a difference, he concluded and acquiesced. He waited for the pair to walk up to him and turned to fall into step with them, silently making the rest of the way to school.
Ayato kept his gaze forward, while the other two bickered at his side. Osano Najimi, Ayato, discovered to be the orange-haired male's full name, was apparently close friends with Yamada and a year their junior. Ayato spared them a glance and caught the painfully pitiful look of longing in Najimi's eyes, but what should have been something painfully honeyed in his gaze looked worn and fatigued. Ayato looked away; it wasn't any of his business, and he wouldn't get involved in the messy tangle of unrequited interests.
Ayato bid them goodbye at the entrance doors and found his locker to slip on his school shoes. He didn't expect to see Najimi again, considering the difference in school years, but it was a surprise to find Yamada in the same class as him again. He was aware of Yamada's lacking school grades and nonexistent ambition, but Ayato didn't share the same underachieving ideals. He was raised to be the best he could be to appeal to his soulmate, and Ayato used it to drive him to be above others in his grade, advanced classes, and extracurricular activities. He wasn't sure what club to join this year, but he had a pleasant time in the art club in his second year. He had no interest in the obnoxious martial arts club, and he’s sure they won’t have anything to teach him that his years in private lessons haven’t already. He joined the cooking club in his first year, and he wasn't all too interested in the clubs that remained. The science club, perhaps, but the students in that club were careless and unsurprisingly socially inept. A blend of loud and obnoxious and borderline mute that led to many miscommunications.
He had time to decide; club applications weren’t open yet, and he’d settle on something before they did.
Ayato closed his notebook and slid it back into his schoolbag, which hung on the side of his desk. He sat at the back of the class, closest to the back door of the classroom. He was the first to slip from class as soon as the period ended. Ayato sat in the more advanced classes and rarely mingled with his classmates, not that they'd have the time for it. He couldn’t help but wonder, as he’d taken his seat earlier, what Yamada was doing there. They only shared a class for just short of a term last year before he’d been moved up. They'd run into each other in the halls, and Yamada would be the first to greet him. He would have slipped from Ayato's mind if not for the constant engagement, but he didn't quite understand why Yamada would want to be remembered by him. There had to be a reason why he didn't just continue on with his day, instead of greeting a passing classmate he barely knew. Ayato didn't see Yamada doing so with any of their other classmates who also moved classes.
Ayato usually ate lunch alone on the school rooftop in a secluded corner overlooking the structures behind the school. He was headed up to the roof from the cafeteria when he heard a call of his name. He turned around and was met with the soft grey of Yamada's eyes. Standing next to him was his irritable friend, Najimi.
"Yamada-kun?"
Yamada looked sheepish, almost hesitant, as the rose spread across his cheeks. His anxious shifting didn't escape Ayato's eyes.
"Would you like to join us for lunch?" He asked suddenly, "I know we don't really know each other. I wanted to get to know you better last year, but you were moved up so quickly.”
Ayato blinked his surprise, an echo of a feeling in his never-ending void of being. Yamada had wanted to be friends? He didn’t understand or reciprocate the desire, but it wouldn't hurt to make connections, he thought to himself. It would help to have people vouch for his good character.
"Sure," Ayato answered, standing back to allow them to step up to meet him on the stairwell. He turned his gaze to look at the pair, "Najimi-kun, was it?"
The orange-haired male startled and his pale face flushing slightly, "Yeah, that's me." Najimi refused to meet his gaze, "You're Aishi-s-senpai, right?"
Ayato nodded, overly aware of Yamada's gaze on them, "It's nice to meet you." Ayato says as amiable as his dull tone can manage.
Najimi huffs and meets his gaze only for a moment before his eyes darted away, "Y-Yeah, I guess."
Yamada smiles encouragingly, and Ayato simply nods. He pushes the doors to the rooftop open and steps through. The rooftop held a few scattered students; the Basu siblings sat in the same place they sat last year, among a few familiar faces, but no one he spoke with.
Ayato followed Yamada and Najimi to a bench by a wall, and was made to sit by Yamada, but he was motioned to sit between the two instead. He didn't argue and took a seat. He placed his bento on his legs and carefully took off the cap. Usually, he'd make his own food, but his mother had decided to cook for him today. The thought alone made dread pool in his stomach.
Their lunchtime was spent in companionable conversation. Najimi's personality wasn't one many would find agreeable, but at the very least, he was easy to read. The bell pulled them from their conversation, but Yamada and Najimi didn’t appear upset at having their conversation cut short; instead, they were rather pleased by what it’d garnered, looking at him like they'd discovered something grand. Ayato could only wonder why.
The walk back to class was short. Ayato and Yamada slipped into their classroom, bidding Najimi goodbye. Ayato inclined his head at Yamada before he took his seat, letting the murmurs of conversation in the room settle over him, while they waited for the teacher to arrive.
As if on cue, the front door of the classroom slid open and in stepped a man who wasn't provocatively dressed, but still made it feel like he was. His red silken shirt was partially unbuttoned, and his black dress pants hung loosely around his ankles. Ayato could feel the girls' appreciation of the display, and Ayato doubted that it was only them. Some of the males in the class looked disgruntled, but they stewed silently in their discontent.
"Good morning, students. I'll be your English teacher from here on out." The Teacher started, something sensual lurking in his tone, "Your previous English teacher has chosen to expand her family and has moved away to a different district.”
Ayato could see the students giving each other glances and a few whispering to each other. Ayato isn't surprised by the news. He had noticed their sensei's change in demeanor before their summer break and the subtle swelling of her middle. She had always seemed discontented at the academy, so it was only a matter of time before she chose to leave.
The teacher turned his back to them and wrote with a piece of chalk on the board, "My name is Mido Rana, you little ones may call me Rana-sensei or simply sensei."
A hand suddenly shot up, and Ayato recognized the person the hand belonged to as Budo Masuta, the Martial Arts Club Leader.
"Oh, a question?" Hummed Rana, "Ask away, dear."
"Uhm," Masuta looked sheepish despite having raised his hand with tactless enthusiasm, "It's just you look a little young, Rana-sensei."
Rana smiled and looked down at the clipboard he held, "Masuta-kun, right?" Budo nodded, and Rana continued, "That's a rather sudden question, but to answer it... Well, I'm not that much older than you kids here, I'm in my mid-twenties."
Budo nodded his gaze to the ground in embarrassment. The class whispering only grew, and Ayato caught sight of some of the girls looking up at the teachers through their eyelashes, intently.
Ayato let the sudden noise roll like waves right past him and looked up at the teacher, catching his maroon eyes from where he sat by accident. The teacher smiled at him, something dark dancing in his half-lidded eyes. It set him on edge, his stomach twisting with unfamiliar discomfort.
Ayato was starting to believe maybe his last year wouldn't be the same as his last two. He almost wished it was.