NXYZ Community Christmas Fic Exchange
Title: pinnacle of perfection
Written for: highlighters
Special Message: ...this prompt. I spent so, so long trying to make sense of it in my head and I honestly couldn't, for the life of me, understand it and so this was the end result. I BET YOU DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS ME HUH, YUUKI. YOU MADE ME SUFFER DID YOU KNOW. YOU CAN ASK FROGGY, I WAS CRYING AND COMPLAINING AND EVERYTHING but you know, I love you, so it all balances out. XD I hope you like this odd piece of writing I came out with! I was seriously so dkjfbknf about this because I know you expect greatness and ugh YOU MAKE ME NERVOUS OKAY. I LOVE YOU.
Pairings/Genres/Rating: Friendship!YukimuraOC / Friendship/Humour / K+
Beta: Froggycow
A/N: Much much much thanks to my beta, Froggy, who spent majority of his day to tolerate my complaints and to poke me into finishing this piece of writing and making me feel better by telling me exactly what was wrong with how I wrote things. JUST. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I LOVE YOU, BRO. Seriously, I am so glad you're able to deal with my insanity, I think it's an amazing skill. ALSO this fic took me ages to put together and I have no idea how it was brought into this world only that now it exists and it's still terrible because I am still so not used to writing things that are not angsty and just dkfjkjfn if I don't stop now I'll just keep going on, forever. So enjoy :'D
pinnacle of perfection;
When Miyamoto Aya was thirteen years old, she had brilliant grades and a shelf at home dedicated to all the awards and medals that had somehow—actually, she knew exactly how, but whatever—accumulated. At the time, she remembered thinking that it had all meant something, a sign that would eventually spiral her into the future, mature and intelligent and pretty, with a walk as elegant as a gazelle and refined beauty in her features. She had her entire life all planned out; after graduating from middle school, she'd make it into a prestigious high school, skip a few grades, surpass her sister in every way, shape, and form, and have three kids with the love of her life, who would look as though he'd just stepped out of the cover of Hot Men Weekly (if there existed such a thing in the first place).
Then—and it happened unintentionally—but when she was still thirteen, she met a boy named Yukimura Seichii, four years her senior, in the same school and year as her sister. The top of the bunch, she'd been told, in both appearance and intellect. She'd been introduced to him as Nao's 'adorable little sister', and Yukimura Seichii had smiled and held a hand out and greeted her as though he'd been speaking to a child still in elementary school.
One day, Aya will get older, and she will remember little of her giddy excitement from getting accepted into high school, little of those days when awards piled on her shelf. She will no longer remember those days where her naive determination had once promised her the best of the best in the country. Too many years will have passed, and Aya knows that time has a way of wearing down childhood. She wouldn't remember that first step she took to achieving her goals.
However, she would remember the first time she met Yukimura Seichii.
The look on his face when had he reached his hand out, smiled angelically, and said to her, "Nice to meet you, Aya-chan," and the smooth curve of his smile as he'd laughed to her sister, "She's so cute, so smart—she'll grow up to be just like you, Miyamoto-san," and "So she's the top in her class too, huh? I guess the two of us have something in common, then."
The fluid way he'd turned around and walked right away from Aya. The way his pride came along and brushed her off like an irritating bug that had landed on his shoulder. Aya would remember how she felt then—humiliation, embarrassment, and mostly anger, directed right at him. The four-year gap between them dissipated, like it had never existed in the first place.
And as far as life-changing moments in one's history go, this one Aya would keep with her till the grave.
.
The first she heard of Yukimura Seichii was from her sister. Her sister, who spent every morning grooming her hair and applying lip gloss, as well as the occasional mascara. Her sister, who was tall and pretty and mature.
"You don't know who Yukimura Seichii is," her sister had asked, though it had sounded more like a statement than a question.
"I don't know who Yukimura Seichii is," Aya had repeated, confirming it.
"I can't believe you! I thought everyone knew him in this town! He's one of our high school's top students, Aya! I'm always getting at least a second place ranking, but he's always first!"
Aya's eyes widened. "Always? First?"
"Always first," Nao had nodded. "He's really, really smart. And also really, really cute."
"I'm always, always first," Aya pointed out. "In school, I'm always first."
Nao had snorted. "Yukimura-kun is older than you! Your 'always first' is different from his! You can't compare that, Aya! You'd have to be on the same level as him."
"I could be," Aya told her, frowning. "I could! I'm smart! I could do it!"
Nao had rolled her eyes. "No way," she'd said.
"I could," Aya had insisted. She'd make it happen. She would.
And then she actually met Yukimura Seichii, and everything went downhill from there.
.
Aya didn't like the word 'kill'. She'd rather use the words 'get rid of' for the lack of that bad taste lingering on her tongue. And she certainly wasn't homicidal by any means; the list she had burrowed at the bottom of her schoolbag entitled 'Ways to Get Rid of Yukimura Seichii' was nothing but a simple, cheap and easy method to deal with stress.
1. Slowly convince her sister that no, she was not in love with Yukimura Seichii, and yes, she'd do anything for her little sister. Then order her sister to slip some poison in one of those energy drinks he always kept around with him. And then record the moment he falls over.
2. Trick Yukimura Seichii into thinking that one of his friends was being kidnapped—that Sanada guy, for example; he was big and lean and wore a cap all the freaking time and didn't look at all the type of person to be kidnapped but what the heck, did Yukimura Seichii even have real friends and if he did, then why was it that this Sanada person was always at his shoulder?—and push him off some cliff when he wasn't paying attention.
3. Steal his favourite tennis racquet and hurl it off a bridge during a thunderstorm. At night. Tied to a 100kg weight. Yukimura Seichii looked frail and weak and also kind of gullible and innocent. He'd dive right in after his racquet and never come back up again.
And obviously, anyway, none of these ideas would be carried out. It wasn't like Aya could get her hands on poison easily, or that Yukimura Seichii was stupid enough to fall for an old, measly trick that a middle school student could pull, and where exactly would she find a 100kg weight anyway? One of the most irritating things about Yukimura Seichii is that he didn't look like an idiot, and he wasn't an idiot, and he'd probably figure everything out anyway. Oh, and something had to be said about Aya not really wanting Yukimura Seichii to die, either. She just liked imagining it.
"You're a terrible person," her sister said to her, giggling when she finished reading her list to her. "What has Yukimura-kun even doneto you?"
Aya frowned. Obviously Nao still thought this was some sort of joke. And while it was somewhat of a joke, it was a very serious joke that Aya took very, very seriously. "I'm not joking," she protested. "You'll help me, right?"
"What kind of a person do you think Yukimuta-kun is, anyway, Aya? For someone so smart, you really can't see what kind of person he is?"
"In my head he's a giant wimpy monster, too perfect for his own good and frail and wimpy and always hiding in his caves. His only companion is that Sanada guy who follows him around and is secretly in love with the dude. I don't care what kind of person he is. I hate him."
"Aya!" her sister slapped her shoulder. "You've got it all wrong! Yukimura-kun, he's really, really nice! And he and Sanada-kun are just friends, okay? Friends that have lasted since middle school. They were in the tennis club together, did you know? Yukimura-kun was captain. And he was a little bit soft-spoken, but he was really, really strong!"
"Wait," Aya said suddenly. "How do you know all this? He told you?"
"No, of course not! It's on their website!"
Aya blinked. "They have a website?"
"Yes! You browse through it sort of like Wikipedia, and you can find information on every single one of them! Every high school host club has one nowadays, didn't you know?"
"Oh. Wait. What?"
"Host club, you dummy! Yukimura-kun's in the host club!"
"Oh. Wait. What?"
.
And it was true.
Aya did some research overnight, found the website—pink and purple and blue, screaming FANCY at her in giant, bright neon letters—and stared at Yukimura Seichii's revolting face for the next half an hour. When her sister came over to ask what she was doing and could she please have the computer back, she had homework to do, Aya whipped around and snarled at her, baring all her teeth, before turning back to the computer screen.
Yukimura Seichii, the website flashed at her.
Aya almost flipped a table.
The next time she saw Yukimura Seichii was when she barged into the host club, flung her bag to the ground, and declared war on him.
"Yukimura Seichii," she said loudly. "I hate you."
"Oh, Aya-chan." Yukimura came out from the storage room, wiping his hands with a small, green cloth in his hands. "Were you looking for your sister? The school is big, isn't it? It's easy to get lost in."
"I hate you."
"She's right over there. Next time you come, I should give you directions."
"THIS IS WAR," she said to him, pointing a finger. "I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU TO A PULP."
"Tea?" he offered, holding out a teapot.
"KFBJHFBNJGBHN," said Aya.
Yukimura poured a cup for her anyway. "You look like you need it," he told her.
She glared at him.
.
Aya soon found herself visiting her sister's high school host club pretty well every day of the week. There was no real reason to do so, and often, her excuse was that she was waiting for her sister so they could go home together.
"I'm guessing you have fun here," Yukimura commented to her, looking at her empty teacup.
"No," she spat, crouched over her homework.
"Oh? You keep visiting, though."
"I'm waiting for my sister, dumbo. It's not like I want to visit. It's just that she's got this unhealthy infatuation with you, and so now I've got to suffer at home by listening to her rattle on and on and on." She slammed her hands on the table and looked right into Yukimura's eyes. "I know what you are, Yukimura Seichii. You can't fool me. You're a pathetic nerd with no friends, wasting your days away at a club like this because there's nothing more to your life than your success and your grades."
Yukimura looked at her for a while. Then he shrugged, and smiled his usual irritating smile. "Sounds a lot to me like you're describing yourself," he said offhandedly, and collected her teacup before walking over to the next table.
Aya's eyes widened. Then she closed her eyes, fisted the tablecloth. Clench, unclench. Her fingers felt numb. Silence slipped into being, and suddenly, the clatter of glass and the noisy metropolis surrounding her felt too empty to hold her anymore.
.
"Do you think mom and dad would file for a restraining order for me?" Aya asked her sister one evening.
Nao's eyes widened. "Why? What? Aya, is someone stalking you?"
"Report him for paedophilia, too."
"Aya! Who is this person? Is he in your class? Why didn't you tell this to me before? Aya!"
"IT'S TERRIBLE," she wailed, flopping on her bed. "I SEE HIM WHEREVER I GO. Someone just... put him in jail already!"
"Do I know him?"
"If I say his name, I'll die in seven days."
"Aya."
"I'm being serious."
Nao sighed. "Aya, just tell me. Just—tell me!"
Aya hissed his name out, venom dripping with every syllable she pronounced.
"Yukimura Seichii."
.
It wasn't like she started hating Yukimura Seichii. Aya didn't start of hating people right off the bat; she just didn't like them. And it wasn't only because of that wishy-washy first impression he gave her. Her hatred for Yukimura had circulated around a myriad of things.
Yukimura Seichii had status.
It wasn't status in the way Atobe Corp was, or other prestigious families seemed to be. It wasn't that sort of status where everyone had a certain ranking nor was it social status, either. And while Aya wasn't sure of what kind of status it was that Yukimura Seichii had, she was sure that it was that kind of status that she would never be able to attain. Yukimura Seichii's level seemed to rise above others in a way she would never be able to reach. He glowed with perfection, and it was that kind of perfection Aya had been searching for all her life. Yukimura—Yukimura Seichii just had it, and it was disgusting.
"You're still here," he said. It was a statement directed more at himself than at her.
Aya could hear the hint of surprise in his voice. She raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"
"No, not really." He smiled at her. The girls behind him swooned. Aya rolled her eyes and closed her maths textbook. Yukimura pulled out a seat and sat himself down. "I thought you'd have run off crying after what I said to you last. I was a little bit harsh, wasn't I? I apologize for that."
"It's not like I can avoid coming here," she bit back, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I do have to wait for my sister. And I figured if I let myself be affected by anything you said to me, the world might explode within the next few seconds."
"You're going to ignore what I said to you?"
"It's true, so I can't ignore it. Being in denial doesn't really help anything at all, so I've decided to abandon it altogether." She stopped, crinkling her nose. "Why am I talking to you?"
He smiled, genuinely this time. Aya was tough and stubborn, in the best way he'd seen in a long time. "This is a host club, Aya-chan. I think we're supposed to talk."
"Curse you, Yukimura Seichii."
Yukimura chuckled, amused. "I think this is the longest we've ever held a proper conversation."
"Woe is me."
"Does this mean we're friends now?"
Aya took one look at him, stared at his sparkling hair and into his green eyes. Then she grabbed her books and fled the room. Yukimura stood up, surprised, as she ran out of the room. A few seconds she came back and pointed her finger, eyes narrowed.
"A POX ON YOU, YUKIMURA SEICHII. GO BURY YOURSELF IN A HOLE."
Yukimura watched her retreating back and sighed to himself. "You'd think she'd be a little more polite when she talks to an upperclassman."
.
The day Aya didn't go to the host club was the day she got her English test back. Yukimura happened upon her by accident in the library, where Aya had her papers still clutched firmly in her hands.
"Hello," he said to her. There is no response. Yukimura peered over her shoulder.
"DON'T LOOK," she suddenly screeched at him, standing up and swivelling around, almost whacking him in the nose. Yukimura stepped back, surprised. The librarian jumped, startled, and glared for a full ten seconds before returning to her work.
"I... I'm sorry," he said finally, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding in.
Aya opened her mouth to say something, but closed it instead and shook her head. Her face was pink in embarrassment, and her hair looked messier than it usually was. Yukimura suspected that the outburst wasn't the only thing that had elicited her reaction. Aya took in a deep breath and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt.
"Why are you here? This is the middle school, and the last time I checked, you haven't dropped three years of school," she hissed at him.
"I just had to drop something off for my sister," he explained. "She forgot her lunch at home and I'm having a hard time finding her."
"Good luck," Aya snorted. "Now leave me alone, I've got better things to do."
"Are you like this to everyone around you?" he asked, frowning. "Because I'm starting to see why you don't have many friends at school."
"I don't like it when people poke into my business," she said. "People never really care anyway, so what's the point?"
Yukimura watched her. "Your sister's not going to be around forever, you know," he said quietly. Aya flinched. "She's going to move out one day, and you'll be lonely."
"She'll be lonely too, without me."
"She will, but she'll have made new friends. She won't stay lonely."
Aya glared at her papers. Yukimura picked them up and skimmed them over slowly.
"These aren't hard questions," he observed. "For someone of your intelligence."
"I'm not intelligent," she whispered, and Yukimura could hear in her voice that she was on the verge of tears. "I skipped that one question by accident and didn't even notice, and now all the answers I've written after that one were wrong. I hate multiple choice. I hate it. If I'd been smart enough, I wouldn't have missed that question and everything would have been fine."
"Then next time, just make sure you haven't done it," Yukimura said. "If you have time after you've finished, check over your answers."
Aya lifted her head to look at him. "I don't understand," she sniffed. "How do you always do it?"
"Hm?"
"Keep your grades up. How do you always have that effect on people?" It was only meant to be one question, but Aya couldn't and didn't know how to stop, now that she was this far. It all comes rushing through, like the climax point of a tidal wave, crashing its way to shore. "How do you treat everything like it's nothing and do everything so genuinely? How are you always smiling at others, how do you—how—"
Aya stops; her voice cracks and her face scrunches up, tears blurring her vision. "How in the world are you so damn perfect?"
He looked at her for a long time. Aya had dropped her head down and pulled her knees up, sniffling quietly into her sleeves. Yukimura closed his eyes, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a plain, yellow handkerchief, placed it on the table in front of her.
He took a breath.
"In middle school," he began, quietly, his voice sounding distant, recalling an old but fond memory. "In middle school, I was in the tennis club. And you know, Aya-chan, they called me the Child of God."
It was the chuckle he forced out that made Aya finally look up at him. He smiled bitterly at her and nudged the handkerchief closer so that the embroidered folds touched her fingertips.
"It's not all it's cracked up to be."
.
The next test Aya had was in the middle of the week.
"Begin!"
Aya flipped her paper over and printed her name neatly at the top right corner of the page. She folded her hands and stared at her page, toying with her pencil in her right hand.
It was hard to understand; not the questions, not the test itself, but the words Yukimura had used the day before to describe what it was that he had. Yukimura would never be able to explain to Aya the ambition that fueled her blood than to explain to a blind person what it was like to see a rainbow. He would never be able to fully function, would never be able to fully identify what it was inside her that prompted success.
He was not her.
Aya breathed; sat up. She wouldn't envy Yukimura Seichii for what he had.
She finished her test, turning it back over with the tiniest of smiles, hinting at the corners of her lips.
(The test came back with a mark of one hundred and the sense of accomplishment that came with it.)
.
Nao's face lit up when she saw Aya walk through the door of the host club the next day. "Aya, you came back! It's been a while since you've visited, hasn't it? Missed everyone here?"
Aya snorted and shot a glare in Yukimura's direction. "No," she spat out. "I came here to wait for you and do my homework, like always." She strode quickly to the other side of the room and sat down at her usual table, reaching for her bag and pulling her homework pages out.
"Welcome, Aya-chan."
Aya didn't spare him a glance. Yukimura smiled anyway.
"Would you like some tea? Or some cake?"
"Earl Gray," she quipped. "No cake."
Yukimura kept on smiling. "Anything else I can get you?"
"Shut up and go away," Aya snapped, scowling. "I'm busy! No!"
Yukimura hesitated. "...Shall we go for ice cream later, then?"
"No!" Aya said. "...Maybe."
Yukimura chuckled, pleasantly surprised. "Vanilla or chocolate?"
"YUKIMURA SEICHII, I AM NOT A CHILD, DAMN IT."
He patted her head fondly. "I know, I know. I get it."
"KFSJHNKDJNGKFJN," she griped, swatting at his hand.
He chuckled in response.
And as he walked off, humming a familiar tune under his breath, Aya looked down at her papers and realized that there was no longer a need for that restraining order.
Owari
2011.12.12